Not Broken: The Happily Ever After(79)

I turned away. His words caused tendrils of shame to slither through me. Any excuse I would have tried to give shriveled up, too afraid to be voiced and meet his scrutiny. Truth or silence; my only options.

Mustering up some courage, and doing my best to ignore the overwhelmed feeling that was gaining speed, I turned back to meet his gaze. “I don’t need...I just…” I paused and let out a forced breath. “It helps sometimes. To cope or deal, whatever. Sometimes I just need something.”

The look on his face changed to that same sad expression he’d had yesterday morning. Not exactly the look I’d expected. I thought he’d be angry, or even show concern, but he looked hurt.

Malcolm tucked my bangs behind my ear. His fingers trailed down my jaw, coming to stop on my chin. He tilted my head up to meet his lips. I was given a feather-light kiss before he stepped away.

“First, your panic attacks return. Now, you’re drinking to cope. This. Me. It’s not good for you. The more I hear you struggle to deal, the more I kick myself for, as you said, ambushing you into this relationship.”

“What? No, Malcolm...that’s not…” I took a breath. Truth. “Malcolm, I’ve been drinking since the first night I had to stay alone in this house. It was just me and Shawn, my parents moved into their house. He’d been crying nonstop, because my mom had been the one to take care of him. I…I hadn’t wanted to.”

I dropped my gaze to the floor at that admission. When no judgement came, I continued. “After I’d finally gotten him down, I couldn’t sleep. This house. The memories. I…I just needed something. So, I drank, and it worked. The next time I got stressed...you get the point.”

I dropped down onto the couch, covering my face with my hands. It was one thing to know these things in your head. It was easier to justify and ignore them that way, but saying them out loud stripped that all away. God, what was it about Malcolm that turned me into this leaking faucet of information, spewing all my secrets as if my life depended on him knowing?

The cushion dipped under his weight. His warm hands wrapped around my wrists, removing my hands from my face.

I looked down, thankful my hair was almost long enough to shield my face. “Your girlfriend is an anxiety-ridden, borderline alcoholic.”

“Your boyfriend is an asshole that adds to your anxiety and makes you want to drink.”

I looked over at him and smiled. “At least you’re cute.”

Malcolm returned my smile. “Well, glad I have something going for me.” He leaned forward, resting his forehead on mine. He started to stroke my cheek with his thumb. “In all seriousness though, if this is too much for you…”

I reached out to caress his face. The coarse hairs of his beard tickled my palm. “I’m okay, Malcolm. I feel like I’m coming unhinged, but you aren’t detrimental to my health.”

I could tell from the look on his face he was ready to protest my statement.

“Yes, I realize that sounds like a contradiction, but it’s not. I’m well aware of the fact that I’ve kept my head buried in the sand, and now I’m being forced to deal with all of things I’ve spent a lot of time trying to forget.”

Malcolm shifted us so that we sat back against the couch. I curled up beside him, resting my head on his shoulder. Our fingers intertwined in his lap.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

His thumb stroked my knuckles. “The day you passed out and fell down the stairs—”

“Yes, I’d had a panic attack.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Now who apologizes too much?”

His grip tightened around my fingers, then relaxed. I tilted my head up so I could see him. His head rested back against the couch with his eyes closed. His long, light-brown lashes gave me a surge of envy. Men always lucked out with gorgeous lashes, and most couldn’t care less about them. His tongue darted out to moisten his bottom lip. I bit my own as I fought the desperate urge to kiss him. I turned away and repositioned myself against his chest.

We settled into a comfortable silence. The quiet usually wasn’t my friend. It allowed memories to seep out and play over and over in my head. Sitting in silence with Seth had always made me nervous. I’d have the urge to talk, usually to explain whatever I’d been accused of at the moment.

I didn’t have that with Malcolm. No increase in anxiety. No nervous urge to ramble. I sat. I held his hand. I took comfort in simply being in the peacefulness of the moment.

My eyes opened just as Malcolm was headed out of my room. My room? “Wait.”

He turned and looked back. “Get some rest. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

I sat up on the bed, embarrassed I’d fallen asleep on him. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

I got up and walked over to him. Taking his hand, I pulled him back into the room. I wrapped my arms around his waist, missing the security of his embrace. “Stay.”

“I don’t think I should.”

“Please. I sleep better with you around.”

He gave a low laugh. “You make it really hard to say no.”

I hugged him tighter. “You aren’t supposed to tell me no.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that. Thanks for telling me.”