Page 147 of You're The One
I tilt my head when needed, but he works in silence, rinsing the suds away.
He finger-combs conditioner through my hair, tender and slow. I should be embarrassed by how intimate this all feels, how exposed I am in every possible way. But I don’t. Somehow, with him, I just feel cared for. Safe.
While the conditioner soaks, he wraps his arms around my shoulders and pulls me against him. His chest is a solid wall against my spine, his breath tickles my cheek when he says, “Baby, talk to me.”
The worry in his voice makes me fold forward, face buried in my hands.
His arms tighten, like he’s holding pieces of me together. “Don’t hide from me.”
I exhale, but my breath hitches. I want to tell him everything. But the words sit in my throat, too tight to pull free. What if he sees the worst parts of me and decides I’m too much? What if he already has and it’s too late?
He turns me so I’m facing him, straddling his hips. The water laps between us, and he takes my hands, squeezing them gently. I fixate on the way his tattooed fingers cradle mine, the roughness of his calluses against my soft palms, giving me another sensation to focus on.
When my eyes lift, he’s looking at me with such open concern and longing, it makes the tears spill over, the ones I’ve been refusing to let fall since I ended up on a plane back to Chicago.
“I’m sorry. These past few days have been… rough.” I hiccup. “I don’t even know why I’m crying.”
“It’s okay to cry,” he soothes.
“I hate feeling like this. I hate people seeing me like this.Youseeing me…”
“Mia,la mia fiamma.” He waits until my eyes connect with his to continue. “What’s going on? Talk to me.” This time it comes out as more of a plea than a request.
“I didn’t leave that room”—my voice rises as I gesture toward Ryan’s house, my numbness turning into frustration—“for days, Dom.Days.”
I pause to catch my breath. “I try to avoid these feelings. I hate feeling so weak?—”
“Hey. You are not weak. You’re one of the strongest people I know.”
“I’ve never needed anyone before. And now?—”
“Baby, it’s okay to need people. Everyone does. The right people will be there for you… when you struggle, and when you succeed.”
My face stays wet no matter how hard I try to hide it, tears mixing with the bathwater on my fingers. Maybe there’s something poetic in that, but right now, all I feel is the sting of soap in my eyes.
“I don’t want to be a burden… a complication… for people. For you.” I struggle to get the words out through uneven breaths.
“You are neither of those. Not to me. Not to Ryan, your parents, your friends, or anyone who actually knows you. You’re afuckinggift.”
I shake my head. “I thought you were done… done with me?—”
He grips my forearms, grounding me. “I’m sorry I let you go after our argument. I shouldn’t have?—”
“Ishouldn’t have left,” I interrupt, because I know it’s true.
“I knew why you did. Deep down, I knew. But I let my own past cloud everything I’ve learned about you. I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry, too.”
“Baby, I’ll never be done with you.Never.” He frames my face, his thumbs tracing my cheeks, my jaw, then my bottom lip. “We can fight. We can yell. We can take space or talk until we’re hoarse. But I won’t walk away. Not from you.”
I loop my arms around his neck, pulling him close.
“I’ll always fight for us. Do you hear me? That’s a promise,” he says quietly.
“Are you sure?” I whisper.
He lets out a low laugh, more disbelief than humor. “One thousand percent.”
