Fighting Silence (On the Ropes #1)(18)

As I walked to the window, I ran through every possible excuse why I shouldn’t open it. Perhaps I should have gone back to bed and sent away him without another a backward glance. I wouldn’t though. Regardless that he had rejected me? I found myself absolutely unable to return the favor. Unfortunately, I was transparent because Till Page obviously knew that too.

“Doodle, open up,” he whispered from the other side of the glass.

“Till, it’s late. Go home,” I urged, knowing I wouldn’t be able to resist opening it for much longer.

“I, um . . .” His words caught with uncharacteristic emotion.

“Till?”

“Please, Doodle.” His voice cracked, which shattered whatever imaginary resolve I was holding on to.

I threw back the curtains and pried the window open. Based on the way he sounded, I was fearful of what I would find on the other side. My suspicions were confirmed when I caught sight of his blood-soaked T-shirt.

“Oh my God, Till. Are you all right? Is that your blood?”

“No,” was his only response. My eyes raced over his body, looking for any possible injury, but with the exception of split knuckles, there wasn’t a mark on him.

“Get in here.” I stepped away to allow him room to crawl inside.

“No,” he repeated with glazed over eyes. He leaned in only far enough to grab my hips and drag me out the window.

“What the hell are you doing?” I cried out as he carried me to a beat-up pickup truck.

He didn’t answer as he placed me on the seat and slammed the door closed behind me. Till might have been there physically, but his mind was lost somewhere else.

Just as he slid behind the wheel, his empty eyes swung to mine.

“What’s going on?” I whispered.

“I need you,” he said desperately.

“Then I’m here.” I reached over to squeeze his arm, but it did nothing to relax his tense, straining body. “Whose blood is that?”

He swallowed hard then shook his head in response.

It wasn’t enough though. “Please. You have to give me something here. I haven’t seen you in six months, and tonight, you showed up at my window covered in blood. I’m scared,” I said quietly, so as not to spook him. This wasn’t my rock, Till. This was a virtually unrecognizable, nervous boy.

“I’ll tell you at the apartment,” he muttered, and a pang of guilt stole my breath.

“No. Tell me here,” I demanded. “I’m not leaving.”

“At the apartment,” he repeated.

“There was nothing in that apartment but me and you. So we’re already there. Close your eyes.” I reached over and folded my hand over his.

He immediately opened his hand and intertwined our fingers. “I just want to go home, Doodle.” His voice broke as he leaned over, resting his head in my lap like he had done so many times before.

I went to work running my fingers through his hair, scratching his head in the way I knew would soothe him—but it didn’t this time. His huge body crawled even closer, wrapping both arms around me to hug my legs.

“Talk to me,” I urged again.

“No. You talk. I want to hear you while I still can.”

While I still can.

His words began to ricochet through my ears like a stray bullet fired from an unknown gun. They had been intended to be innocent, but they were deadly to me. They showed me that he wasn’t planning to stay this time either. This was but a brief stop for Till. Claiming whatever he needed at the moment before casting me aside yet again. My pulse began to race. I needed to be there for him, but who was going to be there for me when he walked away all over again? Where was he when I needed him?

“You’re the one who left, Till. I wouldn’t have gone anywhere.” I swung the door open and climbed out of his grasp. Then I hurried back to my apartment, wishing this were all just a nightmare and that he had stayed gone.

I heard his footsteps on the sidewalk behind me.

“Doodle! Please!”

I ignored him and kept moving toward my front door—my only refuge from the painful world without Till.

“Please,” he continued to beg behind me, and that single syllable destroyed me. “I just need to go home tonight.”

Funny, I wanted to go home too. I’d wanted that for a long f*cking time though.

My temper slipped and tears sprung to my eyes. I spun around to face him, and he stilled just two steps away.

“There is no apartment, Till. I called the city and told them people were squatting in it. They cleared it out, gutted it, and then boarded it up tight. I sat in the parking lot and watched them do it. It’s f*cking gone!” I took great pleasure in watching the words hit him like physical blows.

Yeah, kicking him while he was so obviously down shouldn’t have felt good, but it eased the pain I had been living with. It was about time that someone else lived with that shit. I was exhausted.

“No. No, no, no, no, no.” He stumbled backward before rushing forward. “Why would you do that?” he breathed before repeating it on a roar. “Why would you do that!”

“I needed it to disappear!” I screamed through my tears. “Just like you did.” I sobbed, reliving the morning of waking up without him all over again.

“That wasn’t yours to take away!” he exploded into the otherwise silent night. His words echoed off the surrounding buildings, each wave slicing me to the quick all over again. “That was our place. Not yours.” His voice cracked right alongside my heart.