Page 55 of Meet You Half Way
A knock sounded on my door and I stilled, my thoughts instantly flying straight to the guy who had caught me so deep in his net and hoping against hope it was him on the other side of my door.
I opened the door, my wish springing to life because standing there on my doorstep in his blue jeans and that black leather jacket was my Mateo looking, well, actually not looking so great at all if that was even possible.
“Mateo?” I gasped, taking in his red rimmed eyes, the dark circles and the broken expression on his face that had my heart racing. “Hey, what happened?” I asked, pulling him through the door and straight into my arms. He came easily, saying nothing as his head dropped to my shoulder and I pulled him closer, encasing his smaller frame in my arms.
“You’re shaking,” I noted as my fingers gripped onto his hands, the tremble in them evident. Actually, his breathing was a little laboured and unsteady if I was honest and I felt my alarm rise as my instinct to protect reared its head.
“Come. Sit,” I urged, guiding him towards my sofa, keeping my hands around his waist as I sat right beside him, noting the tremors in his shoulders. I couldn’t help myself as my fingers slipped to the pulse point on his wrist and I counted the beats in my head. And yes, his heart was galloping.
“What are you doing?” he asked, voice breathless.
“Just checking your pulse,” I told him, not wanting to lie to him.
“Why is that so hot?” he rasped and I tried not to smile.
“You think that’s hot?” I teased, trying to distract him from wherever his mind was at as I brushed the hair from his forehead, noting the glassiness in his usually dazzling eyes.
“So hot.” His breaths were still coming in short gasps and I didn’t like that at all.
“Just take a few deep breaths with me, darling,” I said, reaching down to clasp his hand as I demonstrated some deep breathing patterns and was relieved when he carefully followed along, trying hard to match my breaths. I could see he was still agitated but his breathing slowly levelled out and I let out a sigh of relief.
“What do you need, Mateo?” I asked, brushing his hair from his eyes and stroking his sharp cheekbone with my thumb, needing to touch and comfort him. “Tell me what I can do.”
“I told my parents,” he announced, words bereft of hope.
“Oh, darling,” I replied. I didn’t need him to tell me how that conversation had gone. It was evident in the panic his body had obviously gone into. I hoped he hadn’t driven all the way here from Esperance in this state.
“I just, I need … Help me forget, Jamie,” he pleaded, desperation in his tone as he shifted forward, legs bracketing mine as he straddled my waist. “Help me forget,” he repeated once more as he leant towards me, his mouth landing on mine. I could taste the desperation on him as my hands shifted to his back but I also knew this was not the answer he was looking for.
“Wait, Mateo,” I said, pulling back as his lips chased mine. “Just wait a moment, baby.”
“Please, Jamie,” he rasped, the sound pulling at every heartstring in my body. I clasped his cheeks and held them tight until he looked at me, still with that glaze in his eyes.
“If that’s what you want, Mateo. I’ll take you to my bed right now and stay with you until you forget everything. But I’d rather you talk to me. I want to be here for you. Tell me. Talk to me, baby.”
He said nothing but his head dropped down onto my shoulder and I felt a sob rise in his throat as those shoulders of his shook under my hands.
“I told my parents. About me. And you should have seen the way they looked at me, Jamie,” he said, words muffled in my t-shirt.
“I am so sorry, Mateo,” I murmured, hands rubbing up and down his back. “I’m so sorry that was your experience with the people who are supposed to love you unconditionally. You deserve better than that.”
He cried into my shoulder, my t-shirt wet through with his tears and I just held onto him, wishing I could take that painaway from him. Nobody deserved to be treated like this. Nobody. Least of all this beautiful, complicated soul in my arms.
I let Mateo cry himself out until he lifted his head, those pretty, dark eyes wet and red rimmed but still heartbreakingly beautiful. He slid off my lap but curled up at my side, head resting on my chest as my arms enclosed him.
“They’re supposed to love me,” he said, voice broken and defeated. “I have no one.”
“That’s not true, Mateo,” I told him, hating this defeat in his voice. “You have lots of people who love you. Dante and Giulia love you like family, like family are meant to love. And you have Rob. And … and you have Nick,” I added, stumbling only slightly on his ex-lover’s name, knowing I needed to get over myself to make this list of names as long as possible. Mateo sucked in a shaky breath but I could tell he was hearing me. So I continued. “And you have me, Mateo. You have me too.”
He said nothing but his hand clutched onto my shirt and I gathered that was his way of accepting my words, accepting what I was offering him. Accepting that I had him too.
“Can I make you a cup of tea?” I eventually offered, needing to do more for him, to take care of him.
“Please,” he said, nodding against my shoulder.
I rose to my feet and headed to the kitchen to put the kettle on. “How do you take it?”
“Just black,” he said weakly. “Black like my heart.”
