Fall (VIP #3)(59)

His eyes are over-bright when he opens them and looks at me. The pain in them takes my breath.

“I do,” he rasps. “I need …”

I open my arms to him. Shaking, he leans into me, his head resting on the slope of my breast, his arm wrapping low around my waist and tugging me against him. Our legs tangle as we move to get closer. John sighs, his body melding into mine. And I run my hands through his hair, making nonsensical noises under my breath.

“Fuck, Stella … It hurts, and I don’t know how …” His body clenches as if he’s mentally willing himself to keep it together.

“I know, honey.” I stroke the curve where his neck meets his shoulder. Tight muscles feel like steel under the silk of his skin.

He swallows audibly. “It comes and goes. I’m on top of the world, then suddenly I’m not.” The warmth of his breath gusts over my breasts. “My therapist warned me. She said it’s an endurance race. You endure. You keep moving forward. But some days, Stella … Some days I get so fucking tired.”

“Then rest,” I whisper. “Rest with me. Let me be where you lay your head for a while.”

He stills, his cheek pressed against my chest. “I don’t want your pity.”

No, he wants reassurance. I get that. “You don’t have my pity. It’s what you do for the people you care about.”

I wish I had better words for him, a better way to comfort, but he is the poet, not me. I can only hold him and hope it helps.

The stiffness in his body eases but he remains completely still. “You care?”

“Of course I do.” A blush runs over my cheeks. We’ve been at each other’s throats for so long, talk of feelings is awkward. “I’d like to think we’re friends now, aren’t we?”

“Friends,” he repeats under his breath. But when I twitch, completely embarrassed by his lack of enthusiasm, he holds me fast. “We’re friends, Stella. We’ve always been, even when you didn’t realize it.”

There’s no missing the rebuke in his tone; it only makes me smile. “Okay then.”

“Okay,” he agrees.

We fall into a tentative silence. I play with his hair, running my fingers through it, and he slowly relaxes against me. The knowledge that I helped him feel even a little better is gratifying. But I can’t stop thinking about the state I found him in. “John?”

“Hmm?” He’s loose-limbed and warm now.

I hate that I might ruin that, but I have to ask the question. “It’s Tuesday.” Instantly, he tenses. Guilt pricks at my neck. I keep stroking his hair, fearing he’ll withdraw. “You see Dr. Allen on Tuesdays, don’t you?”

John tucks his head further into the crook of my shoulder. “I forgot.”

“John—”

“I swear I did,” he says, stronger now. His long fingers curl around the curve of my hip and hold tight. “I know it sounds like utter bullshit, but I forget things. Especially when I get low.”

“I believe you,” I say softly. “But isn’t when you’re feeling low the most important time to remember your appointments?”

I can’t see his face, but somehow I know he’s scowling. It’s there in the bend of his neck and the clench of his hands.

“I’m supposed to write lists,” he grumbles against my chest, then laughs shortly and without humor. “Kind of hard to do when I forget to write the bloody lists as well.”

“True.” I bite back a fond smile. “I could help, you know. Remind you to—”

“No,” he cuts in, soft but vehement. “I don’t want that from you, Button. I don’t want you to see me that way. As someone who needs minding. Someone to fix.”

“I do not see you that way,” I retort.

This time, it’s John who soothes, rubbing slow circles on my hip. “I know, love. But there are some things I need to learn to do on my own. Please.”

All the fight leaves me. He’s right, and pride is a powerful thing. Sometimes, it’s all you have left. I can only do as he asks. “All right. But please promise me that you’ll call Dr. Allen.”

There’s a small smile in his voice when he answers, “I will.”

He nudges my hand with the crown of his head. Subtle, he is not. But since I love playing with his silky hair, I happily take up running my fingers through the strands once more.

When he speaks, his voice is a ghost of sound. “Killian was so pissed at me. When I tried. I mean, I get it—”

“I’m sorry,” I cut in sharper than I intend, “but Killian can go fuck himself.”

John’s shoulders jerk. “Jesus, Stells,” he says with a husky laugh, “don’t hold back.”

“I know he’s your friend. But I’m serious. He can fuck right off with that.”

I feel him smile against me as his grip tightens. “It scared him, Button. Scared them all. It changed all of us in a way I didn’t think about. We were like spoiled children before that. Then suddenly, life got too real.”

I can practically feel the weight of that change sitting on John’s shoulders. I press my lips to the top of his head. “When I was five, I ran out into traffic and almost got hit by a car. The second my mom got to me, she slapped me on the butt and screamed at me for being careless. She’d been scared to death and her reaction was to lash out.” My fingers trail through John’s hair. “And I get that’s why your friends acted the way they did. But the initial scare is long over, John, and yet it still bugs you. You’re still trying to protect their feelings.”