Page 67 of Unraveling with You

I’ve kept my back straight and chin high, but when I peek at Remington still sitting beside me, his eyes are wide.

But they’re filled with hope. That eight-year-old boy sits beside me through his adult body, begging someone to come rescue him.

I steel my jaw, puffing my chest. Truthfully, I’m terrified, but I want to be strong for him. I will. I am.

A sudden calm washes over Remington’s eyes.

His mother leaps from her seat. “Remi, please! Don’t do this to your mother.”

Remington doesn’t spare her a glance. He stands, facing me, and softly smiles. Not his half-up smile, but the gentle one that reaches his eyes. “Sorry, Ma. You heard my girl; we’re leaving.”

Wrapping his arm over my shoulder, Remington chuckles as we stride for the door. His family calls after us, but we keep our eyes locked, smiling wider the further we step away.

“God, you’re such a badass. I’m so proud of you for speaking up so strongly, baby.” Remington kisses my cheek. “Thank you so much for being there for me.”

I smile, ducking my head. It’s been a long time since I stood up to someone I initially wanted to impress like that. I’m a little shy to admit I feel proud of myself too, but I’m especially proud of Remington; as we speed walk down the sidewalk to the car, he lifts his head to the night sky, closing his eyes with a tremendous sigh - as if we just set him free.

But once we settle into our drive home, Remington remains quieter than usual. We’re holding hands over the center console, and I drive as smoothly as possible, hoping he can relax.

About thirty minutes in, he mutters, “Thank you. I’m okay, just tired.”

I bite my lip. I don’t know exactly how to say what I want to say, but I want to try.

“Rem, I’m here for you, always. But it’s okay to still be upset. I know leaving early or me having your back doesn't take away all the awful things they said to you.”

He sighs, kissing my knuckles. “Sweet girl, it’s really okay. I was in a bad place, so I lost my cool, but I have a high tolerance. They’ve said and done far worse. That was nothing.”

Stopping at a red light, I hunch into the steering wheel, breathing through the tremendous ache his words created in my heart. Remington strokes my hair, ready to soothe me, but I grab his hand, holding it to my chest.

My voice comes out fragile. “They’ve done worse to you, baby? I’m so,sosorry. You didn’t deserve that. Any of it.”

Remington bites his lip, dropping his head. The light turns green, so I grab his hand, refocusing on the road. But he pulls our hands into his lap.

“You’re a sweetheart,” he breathes. I can tell he’s trying to hide it, but the wetness in his voice is apparent.

I pull my hand from his, focusing on the road as I stroke his head beside me. He settles into my touch, breathing through soft sniffles as we drive in silence. I continue to rub him the best I can: down his back, across his shoulders, and soft scratches over his scalp.

After watching him be hurt by his family, it kills me to hear him hurting without being able to hold him. I want to be there for him. I want to be his hero too.

But I can also see why it might feel too vulnerable for him to be the one being saved. Showing weakness felt deadly under that roof.

Just like it feels around Dad.

“Can I give you a bath when we get home?” I mutter.

I can’t help it. Maybe it’s selfish, but I want to be the one who’s there for Remington, anyway.

He blows out a whistling breath. “Sure. Thank you.”

With Remington in the bath, my heart softens a little; at last, he’s safe. Dragging a washcloth down his beautiful arms, I smile as Remington closes his eyes, allowing his limbs to nestle limp in my hands. I give every inch of his shoulder, bicep, forearm, palm, and fingertips a rolling massage, loving the way it parts his lips in pleasure. My heart feels nurtured just watching him enjoy himself, allowing himself to be gently jiggled back and forth - his muscles loose as I rub soap over his broad chest.

“I think you’ve fought more than two dragons,” I blurt out.

Remington’s eyebrows crease as if my words were both shocking and confusing.

“It’s not your fault what they’ve done and are continuing to do,” I say.

He’s silent for a while as I trickle warm water over his chest, massaging him between delicately tracing the dark black line down his sternum.

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