Fighting to Breathe(61)

When we pull up to the house, I get out and go around to her side and lift her out of the truck to carry her slight weight in my arms up the stairs. Her teeth are still chattering, and tears are still falling from her eyes as I get the sliding door open then closed, taking her up the stairs through the bedroom, into the bathroom. I set her on her feet so I can start up the bath. When I turn around, she’s watching me closely, looking unsure of what to do.

Pulling my shirt over her head, I toss it toward the laundry basket then do the same with her sweats, bra, and underwear. When I help her into the warm bath, tears are still falling from her eyes. I didn’t know one person could produce so many tears. Helping her lean back in the water then grab her shampoo and conditioner from the shower stall. Once I have her hair washed and begin using the conditioner, her eyes close and her teeth stop chattering.

“You can’t leave me again, Lea,” I rumble, feeling my throat go tight with emotions. I can handle a lot, but being without her ever again is something I don’t ever want to face.

“I’m so sorry,” she sobs, leaning over the side of the tub, soaking my shirt with her tears and water as her arms wrap around my shoulders. Kissing her hair, I unwrap her arms and use one of the bars of soap to wash her off quickly before grabbing a towel and picking her up from the tub. Carrying her into the bedroom I lay her on the bed. Then, pull off my clothes and get in with her.

“Did you ever talk to anyone when you left home? Ever talk to anyone about your dad’s death?” I ask her once I have her body almost completely under mine, where I know she won’t be able to get away again.

“No, I didn’t want to think about it.” She squeezes her eyes closed.

“Did you talk to your mom about it, and how his death affected you?” I ask softly.

“No, I told her I had to leave, and she made it possible for me to do it. We never talked about him, not really until I came home.”

“Yeah.” I shake my head, looking out at the view as the dark clouds are replaced by blue skies.

“I know what she did,” she whispers, and I frown, tilting my head down to look at her. Her eyes open slowly and meet mine.

“What who did?”

“My mom…I-I got a letter from her today.” I nod and she pulls her bottom lip into her mouth. “She lied.”

“She did,” I agree, holding her a little closer.

“I don’t want to be mad at her.” She closes her eyes.

“Baby,” I say softly as tears stream down her cheeks.

“I told her I wanted to come home. She told me there was nothing for me here, that you had moved on.”

Fuck! “I never moved on, Lea. I didn’t know it, but I have always been waiting for you to come home to me.”

“You’re my home,” she says, gutting me wide open. “I don’t know how to get rid of this fear, but I know I want to. I don’t want to be without you.”

“We’ll find you someone to talk to.” I assure her.

“I can’t be without you,” she reiterates.

“Then you’ll come on the boat with me. We’ll find a way to make it work until you’re strong enough,” I reassure her, running my fingers through her hair. “But you never leave me again without talking to me. The only times I have ever been afraid in my life have been the times I’ve been forced to think of a future without you.” I need her to understand that my fear is the same as hers.

“You don’t deserve that.”

“I don’t and neither do you, baby. That’s part of what you need to understand; you deserve happiness, just as much as anyone else. We deserve to be happy, Lea, to start a life together, to have babies, to watch them grow. We both deserve that,” I whisper the last part, and her body shakes against mine as new tears fall from her eyes. “The tears are killing me,” I tell her, kissing her forehead.

“I haven’t stopped crying. I don’t know what’s wr-wrong w-with me.”

“You have a lot you need to let go of. You can cry as long as you need to,” I reply, resting my hand over her stomach.

An hour later, when the tears haven’t died down and she still hasn’t slept, I kiss her forehead and move away from her. “Be right back, baby,” I whisper to her. She nods, curling into a ball and hugging my pillow against her chest. Grabbing a pair of sweats, I pull them on then find my phone and take it with me downstairs, where I call Keith and ask him if he can get me something that will help her sleep. When I get back upstairs, she’s still crying while staring out the window.

“Is everything okay?” she asks as I hand her a bottle of water.