“Sure, honey. I’ll be home all day so you come over when you’re ready,” I answered her with a smile and watched her leave. When I heard the front door close, I turned back to Scott with hesitation. I wasn’t sure I was ready for whatever he wanted to discuss. “How was your day?” I asked as my heart beat a little faster in my chest.
His eyes stayed trained on mine as he took a step closer to me. “I don’t want to talk about my day, Harlow,” he said. His voice caused my tummy to swirl with nerves – after months of him giving me space, his tone now told me he was done with that; it told me he was going to push me into a corner I didn’t think I wanted to go to.
“Well I’m interested to hear about it, Scott,” I replied while I busied myself with the cake batter. Scraping it off the beaters and down the side of the bowl seemed extremely important at that moment. It also gave me the opportunity to avoid his stare.
He closed the distance between us and placed his hand on mine, stilling it. His other hand tilted my chin to bring my eyes back to his, and I swallowed my nerves as he did that.
I’m not ready for this.
Ignoring my request to hear about his day, he said, “You’re coming to the party tomorrow, yeah?” It may have been posed as a question, but it was anything but a question. Scott Cole didn’t tend to give options when he didn’t want you to have any.
Taking a deep breath, I said softly, “I don’t think I can.”
A pin drop could have been heard in the moment that followed. Scott’s thoughts may have been silent, but they filled the room regardless, and from instinct alone, I took a step away from him. However, his instincts were always on high alert and his hand flicked out to curl around my waist and pull me back to him. When he had me where he wanted me, body to body, face close to mine, arm around me, he said, “Sweetheart, I’ve been tiptoeing around this for months, giving you space and time to work through your feelings. You’ve done a good job of avoiding me through all that, and I’ve let that go even though it damn near killed me to do it. You’ve also shut down and avoided your friends and your mother. I know you’re hurting and I know you’re grieving, but so am I.” He paused for a moment, his stare growing fiercer before adding, “I hate watching you go through this, but what I hate the most is watching you go through it alone. Let me in, baby; let me be there for you.”
One of my hands moved to the kitchen counter and I gripped it hard. Scott’s words floated in the air between us, and while I was processing those, the thing I couldn’t help but focus on was the way his voice had almost cracked on his last plea for me to let him help.
He’s hurting too.
Oh God…. Oh God, I don’t want to think about this.
Make it stop.
The room began to spin as the hurt choked me.
As my body crumbled, Scott’s strong arms scooped me up and he carried me into the living room. He placed me gently on the couch and I vaguely noticed him striding out of the room. I’d thought I would pass out but I hadn’t, and I clung to consciousness as I fought the overwhelming desire to close my eyes and run from the pain. I didn’t want to do this now, but some part of me obviously did, because that part was forcing me to stay in this moment with Scott.
A few moments later, he pressed a cold washer to my face as he gently pushed my hair out of my eyes. The tenderness in his touch reminded me of his love and that I’d avoided him for too long. His hands, his lips, his skin – I hadn’t felt them for months, and while I tried to want them, I struggled to force something I just wasn’t feeling. But I didn’t have to force my feelings of love for this man. My love hadn’t faltered; I still loved and wanted Scott as much as I’d ever loved and wanted him. I only hoped he could last the distance of my grief.
I looked up at his concerned face and placed my hand on his stubbled cheek. “Thank you,” I whispered.
If I thought the cracking of his voice earlier had upset me, the look he bestowed on me now, threatened to kill me. It was the kind of look a man wore when they were almost destroyed, but you’d given them a small sliver of hope.
My heart missed a beat and my first tear fell.
And then the avalanche began.
And my man didn’t let me down.
His arms came around me as he pulled me close, and his embrace reassured me that maybe, just maybe, I’d survive this. That we’d survive this.
He held me for a long time while I cried. As much as I tried, I couldn’t stop the tears, and after awhile, I gave up trying. I simply let them fall. Scott’s ability to be patient with me, something he didn’t seem to have for anyone else, allowed me to breathe through this moment without feeling like I had to hurry myself along. When my tears finally subsided, I wiped my face and lifted my head. “Thank you,” I said, the same two words I’d said to him earlier. Two words that didn’t seem enough to convey everything I was feeling for him in this moment.