Amelia: Thank you. I really didn't want to eat the feetloaf.
Have you ever been around someone you know is mad at you, but they won't admit it? The tension is a little awkward, and no matter how much you want to be around them, you know it's better if you give them their space. Yeah, that's the phase Amelia and I are in.
It's been a few days since she got back from the hospital, and Kennedy all but moved in to help take care of her. Watching Amelia need help getting up and sitting down, it's like a punch to the gut.
She's hurt, because of me.
She's in pain, because of me.
She's broken, because of me.
It just goes to show that I was right. Regardless of what happens with Blade, I'm no good for her. Hell, she ended up in the hospital because of my choices. No matter how many times I try to get it right, I just fucking can't. So, instead of making it worse for her, I stay out of her way.
After I left the police station that day, on my way to the hospital, I called Carter. His dad is the district attorney, and if anyone can help me put an end to this, it's him. Some may call it being a snitch, but when it's all said and done, I need to protect those I care about. If this is the best way to do it, so be it. At least if someone comes after me for turning him in, it will only be a vendetta against me. The only one who has a motive to pull Amelia into it is Blade himself.
So far, they've got surveillance on him, which only leaves me to wait until they need me. Mr. Trayland told me it would take a couple weeks to put together a case strong enough to hold him with, and that if we try to do anything beforehand, it could only cause more damage than good.
In the meantime, Easton and I put our money together to get a state-of-the-art security system. With sensors on every door and window, there isn't a single way Blade can get in without setting it off. But that still doesn't stop me from sneaking into Amelia's room to sleep on her floor after she's already passed out. As long as I set an alarm and leave before she wakes, no harm, no foul.
I GO DOWNSTAIRS IN search of something to drink when I see Kennedy and Amelia sitting on the couch. They both look at me, and Amelia and I share a sad smile before I walk into the kitchen. That's what we're reduced to. What was once stolen moments and teasing gestures has now been reduced to pained glances and tension so thick you could choke on it.
Sometimes, when I'm sitting in my room and hear Amelia coming up the stairs, I hold my breath and wait to see if she's going to come in. Occasionally, I even hear her stop outside my door for a second, but she never knocks, and I never open the door.
After grabbing a beer, I go to head back upstairs, but just as I pass through the living room, the sound of Amelia's voice has me stopping.
“Zayn,” she almost whispers.
Even if I wanted to, I can't fucking move. It's like every part of me hangs on her every word. Any second of her attention I can get, I'll take, like a fiend scrounging for their next fix. She just has that kind of control over me.
I turn around to face her, and she looks over at Kennedy. “Can you give us a minute?”
She nods and gets up, disappearing into the kitchen. Once she's gone, Amelia sighs.
“Come here.”
A part of me wants to run. I should go upstairs and lock my door, staying far enough away from her that guarantees I don't cause her any more pain, but I can't. So instead, I go over and sit beside her.
“How are you feeling?” I ask for the first time since right after she got home.
She lightly places her hand over the wound. “It's a little sore, but it gets better every day.”
“That's good.”
I keep my gaze locked on my lap until she reaches over and slips her hand into mine. Just the gesture is enough to send shockwaves through my system, but this is wrong. This is exactly what she doesn't need.
“Amelia,” I sigh. “We can't.”
She only tightens her grip. “You don't get to do that. You don't get to shut me out because you think it's what's best for me.”
“Isn't it, though?” I finally bring my eyes up to look at her. “Look what happened to you! Look at what you're going through right now! You got stabbed, because of me.”
She shakes her head. “No. I got stabbed because Blade is a psychotic asshole with an anger management problem. He should try meditation. It might do him some good.”
“And now you're making jokes.” I pull my hand away from her and run my fingers through my hair.
“Z, look at me.” I do, reluctantly. “If you don't want to be with me because it's genuinely just not what you want, then fine. It'll suck, but I can accept that. But if you're only doing it because you think you're some kind of monster who is going to ruin my life, I can't accept that.” She reaches up and puts her hand on my cheek. “We're good together, you and me. A lot better together than we could ever be apart. And nothing that we go through is going to change that.”
I can feel her chipping away at all my defenses she pulls me in and presses her forehead to mine. No matter how much I think I should, and how much I tell myself to pull away, I was never meant to resist her. Not her. Anyone but her.