Page 63 of Homestead

He makes a hoarse sound and pulls me closer, letting me cry frantically into his shirt.

I have no idea where it’s all even coming from, but I can’t seem to stop.

After a few minutes, he starts to murmur, “It’s okay. I’ve got you. You can let go. Let it all out. I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

It’s exactly what I need to hear, and it makes me cry even more. This isn’t like me at all. I’ve totally fallen apart.

It takes a long time, but I eventually work through the worst of the tears. I’m still clinging to him, completely naked and still whimpering and sniffing. He’s still holding me tight. I can’t stand the thought of him letting go.

When I’ve finally fallen still and silent other than a few last snuffles, he strokes my back. Moves his hand up to cup the back of my head. “Seems like you needed that pretty bad.”

“I… I don’t know why.”

“’Cause you’ve been upset and kept pretendin’ you weren’t.”

“I—”

“Don’t try to argue with me about that. I’m not totally clueless, you know.”

I lie against him, exhausted. Boneless. “I didn’t want you to get mad at me again.”

“I wasn’t mad at you, Chloe. I was mad at the situation.”

“It seemed like you were mad at me. Like you didn’t want to hear what I was trying to say. Like you just wanted me to shut up and let you make all the decisions.”

I’m not sure where I get the courage to admit that so bluntly. It’s such a huge risk.

He breathes thickly a few times. “I did hear you.”

“But you?—”

“I know what I did. I’m real sorry about that. I was… I’m scared shitless, baby. I keep tryin’ to move past it, but it keeps comin’ back to me. How it felt when I heard you screamin’ and came runnin’ only to see that… that monster on top of you. I thought… I was sure I’d… lost you.”

He’s opening up in a real way. A way he almost never does. I straighten up and pull back enough to see his face. “I understand. I get why that’s hard to get over.”

“But see, I know I’m makin’ it about me when you’re the one who was…” His face twists painfully. “I know it’s my problem. But I’m still not sure I got it in me to leave you by yourself and vulnerable again.”

I nod, feeling better than I have since Sunday morning. “I really do understand.”

“But I’m gonna work on it. I think I can get there. I heard you about treatin’ you like a child. I’m not gonna do that. I know if I expect you to trust me, I got to work on trusting you too.”

Blowing out a long exhale, I brush away a few new tears. “I’m going to keep practicing with the gun. I’ll practice real hard. I can get better. I’m sure I can.”

“I know you can.” He strokes down my ponytail very lightly. “I can help you. And I’ll keep working on my own issues. It might take a little time, but I’m sure I can get there. I know it’s ludicrous to think we can make this work if I’m never able to leave you alone. You were right about all that. I was wrong. I was stubborn and stupidly possessive and irrational and just plain wrong. Not sure I can do it right away, but I’m gonna work on getting to the point where I can.”

I wrap my arms around his neck and hug him, rubbing my cheek against his shoulder. “Thank you.”

“Might not happen this week,” he murmurs, an edge of dry humor in his tone.

I giggle. “That’s okay. I can live with that.”

He wraps his arms around me, and we stay in the needy embrace for a few more minutes.

Then I’m finally able to get up, get dressed, and get on with my life, starting with fixing dinner.

But I feel better. Entirely better.

Like a new world has opened up for me. One that might keep getting better.

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