Page 74 of Marry Lies
The adrenaline from his presence is gone now, and all I feel is that deep, hollow pain as I turn over and pull my body back into fetal position.
“Go back to sleep, butterfly,” he murmurs.
The mattress shift as he scoots closer. I squeeze my eyes shut, feeling nothing but wanting to feel everything. The numbness is so isolating. It’s like I’m dreaming and can’t wake up. His hand comes to the hem of my oversized shirt, which trails along the back of my thigh, covering my knickers. I stare at the wall opposite of me as Miles’s fingers hike my shirt up. I can tell by the way his calloused fingers work the fabric up that he’s not looking to do anything untoward. Once my back is exposed, his fingers start to trail along my spine in a slow, circular motion. It’s …nice.
If I weren’t so desensitized, I might find this more exciting, but right now, it does a good job of taking the edge off the darkness.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“Sleep now,” he says softly.
I fall asleep to the feel of his knuckles grazing the sensitive skin of my lower back.
* * *
I wake up in a room filled with sunshine. The first thing I notice is that Miles is gone. That makes sense. It’s Monday, and he has work. I take a deep breath, and though it still hurts to inhale, the pain has lessened significantly. I once asked my General Practitioner about the pain I experienced during my episodes, and we could never figure out the cause. Upon further research, I’d concluded that I must carry tension in the muscles between my breast bones. It always goes away when I start to feel better, but every time, I use it as a gauge to see how I’m feeling.
Right now, it’s better than yesterday, and that’s all I can hope for.
I spend several minutes staring at the bedroom wall, thinking and yet not thinking. Breathing and yet seemingly needing to gasp for air periodically. With my knees curled up to my chest, I breathe in and out, closing my eyes and willing the shadows of the room to leave.
I must fall back to sleep briefly, because I’m startled awake by a knocking on my bedroom door. I sit up, glancing around.
“One second,” I tell my guest, pulling an oversized jumper over my days-old pajamas. I quickly run my fingers through my knotted curls, pulling it all up into a messy bun. I haven’t showered in two days, and I desperately need to brush my teeth.
Would Miles knock? Probably not.
Walking to the door, I pull it open.
“Liam?”
He’s wearing a gray T-shirt and jeans that look like they’ve never been washed. He has more scruff than normal, and I notice that most of it is tinged with silver. His eyes find mine, and he gives me a soft smile. It’s only then that I notice the greasy bag and drinks he’s holding.
“Hungry?” he asks, gesturing for me to come out of my room.
“What are you doing here?” I ask carefully, moving out of my bedroom and closing the door quickly so that he doesn’t see the messy bed I just climbed out of.
“Figured you’d want some company. It’s lunchtime, and I know Miles is at work.”
I swallow. “Oh, um, thanks,” I offer, wrapping my arms around myself. “I was just reading,” I explain, hoping he buys it.
Smirking, he turns and walks to the pink couch. “Sit.”
I follow him and sit down, acutely aware of how I must look. “Did Miles put you up to this?” I ask, pulling my legs into my chest and wrapping my arms around my knees.
He shrugs. “He might’ve said something.” I arch a brow, and he chuckles, holding his hands up in surrender. “Fine. He demanded I come and check on you. He made me cut class early,” he explains. “He has a meeting he can’t miss, otherwise, I’m sure he’d be here.” I swallow the ache in my throat.So different from the grump I’ve grown used to.“Even still, I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Thank you,” I tell him quietly. “That’s nice of him. And you.”
“I like taking care of people,” he adds gruffly, setting the bag down and taking out two cheeseburgers wrapped in brown paper. “My brothers, and the people close to them. Since you’re married to my brother, that includes you.”
I don’t answer as a wave of homesickness washes through me.
Somehow, despite everything, I’m starting to consider these people friends. And one day…possibly family.
Handing me a burger, he leans back and eats. I clutch mine, unable to stomach the smell of the greasy meat. During my episodes, it’s hard to enjoy the simple things I normally love, like food, audiobooks, music…it’s all just sort ofthere,existing. I bring it closer to my face, but the melted, yellow cheese is the last thing I want. Politely setting it back down on the coffee table, I rest my cheek on my knees as my eyes prick with tears.
God, this is embarrassing.
