Page 64 of Unraveling with You

He gives a low hum. “Tired.”

After parking, I rush to help Remington from the car. But he’s already out, heading for the parking lot elevators. Dashing after him, my stomach drops. I knew his heart was heavy, but his dragging, clodding footsteps tell me his body carries an equally unbearable burden. I’ve never seen anything hit Remington so hard.

We lay together in the pitch-black darkness. I snuggle up to Remington in his bed, doing my best to be a grounding force, but he’s far from relaxed. His heart races beneath my palm, just as stressed as his heavy breath. His eyes are closed, and he hasn’t said a word since we got home. He said what he needed was to be alone with me, but I still feel helpless; all I can do is lay here with him as he rides out his anxiety.

It takes an hour for him to speak again. His voice is rough with exhaustion. “L.L.B.?”

“Yes?”

“I didn’t ever explain to you why I got into kink and BDSM, and I’m sorry about that. It’s just not something I like going over.”

“Okay. Do you feel like you want to share it? I don’t want you to feel like you have to.”

He hums. “Baby girl, you’re too good to me.”

I prop myself on my elbow to face him in the total darkness, running my hand down the thickness of his torso that I can only feel rising beside me, not see. “You’ve done the exact same. I really want to be there for you, so I’m sorry I’m not too good at it.”

“You are,” he whispers. Remington’s swallow is followed by a deep hum, but it’s not as soothing as usual; there’s a dash of stress in his strained voice. “I wouldn’t have done any of this with you if I didn’t feel safe around you.”

I smile, even though my heart still aches for him. Leaning over his chest, I dip to plant a soft, smooth kiss over Remington’s lips. He breathes into me, dragging a heavy hand across my back in slow sweeps. Goosebumps trickle down my spine, easing my body against him. Remington adjusts himself to face me, and I adjust with him until we lay nose-to-nose in the pure darkness.

“I don’t know how to say this to anyone. It’s weird to just say on a whim,” Remington whispers.

I smooth my hand down his neck before planting a small kiss on his jaw. “Maybe you might need to just say it, even if it comes out wrong - like you have to say to me.”

He chuckles. “Maybe. Then, first off, I have diagnosed PTSD from this, and my ex made it worse.”

My heart flips. Of course I know what PTSD is, but I don’t know-know its symptoms. I’ll have to research it later.

Remington sucks in a sharp breath, then holds it.

I rub his chest. “K-keep breathing.”

His exhale shatters as it exits, tearing at my heart. Flipping onto his back again, he grips my hand to his chest. “We used to have the whole family stay over on Christmas Eve, especially with my cousins. Almost everyone would get wasted after the kids went to bed - or before, to be honest. But either way, there’s one time–” He huffs. “One time in particular was extra bad.”

I cling to Remington tighter. I’d be afraid of where this was going even if I didn’t know him, but since I do, the pieces are falling into place in the worst way.

“Y-you’re doing so well,” I whisper.

He blows out a long breath. “Sweet girl. I don’t want to make you listen to this.”

“What if I want to?”

My heart pounds almost as hard as Remington’s beneath our clasped palms. He shuffles beside me as if he’s itching in his own skin.

Until finally, he whispers, “My uncle got blackout drunk every year. And there wasn’t enough room for all of us, so my sister and I slept in the same bed, which was fine since I was eight and she was only ten. But my uncle came in to–” I wince, and Remington clears his throat. When he speaks again, his voice is unusually flat. “He came in to touch Natalia, or who knows what else. Anyway, I stopped him, and he didn’t like that, so I offered to take her place, which– Which was not something I wanted, but all that I knew to do to keep her safe. I played the fucking hero and fucked myself up for life. But I don’t know if it was even worth it. I can’t decide if Natalia would’ve felt worse having it done to her or if she feels worse now from the guilt of trading places with her baby brother and having to hide in the corner to watch us.”

I can hardly breathe. I’m so horrified for Remington that I don’t know what to say. He hums again, rubbing my back.

“You okay, baby girl? I know you have your own dragons–”

I choke out a heavy breath. “Remington, no– I’m so sorry you were subjected to this. I just hate that he did that to you so much that I don’t know how to put it into words, I just–”

Remington hums, pulling me into a hug. “It’s okay.”

But I straighten in his arms, cupping his cheek. “No, Rem. It’s not. It never was, and it’s not your fault, even if your sister has trauma now too. It’s all his fault– And I wish I could help you.”

My voice waters beyond my control. I don’t want to take away from him, but Remington’s sweet brushing over my head holds so much more meaning now. He’s not playing the hero because he was unsuccessful at rescuing someone; he’s playing the hero because that little eight-year-old hero needed rescuing too, but no one came to save him.

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