“Oh, Elliot.” She dropped her uneaten sandwich at her side and crossed the blanket, wrapping herself in my arms, clinging to me like I was her everything.
I felt like her everything, and hell, after all these years of feeling numb to anything, being wanted–being needed by her–felt like heaven.
“I’m so sorry that happened to you.” She whispered against my neck.
I held her tightly to me, cradling her in my arms and finding myself really fucking grateful she’d landed herself in my town. “It all seems worth it as long as it landed me right here, with you in my arms.”
“You’re the strongest man I’ve ever met.” She dotted hot kisses across my jawline. “Your heart and your big, broad muscles.”
I smiled at that last remark. I was beginning to think sunshine and rainbows were just part of her special talents.
“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” I groaned at her ear, hungry for her again. “You won’t ever have to doubt my love, baby, I’ll make good and sure you’re drowning in it forever.”
Chapter 8
Reese
“Miss. Winters.” Bobby Williams called my name, and I looked up from my desk to see that his entire face and clothing were painted in bursts of primary colors. I smiled and walked over to him. His little face scrunched up, and his bottom lip jutted out as he tried to hold back the tears brimming in his beautiful brown eyes.
“You look like you had a ton of fun,” I said, keeping my words light and maintaining the brightest smile I could muster.
“I am so dead,” he whispered, obviously frightened. His voice was so low that I wasn’t sure I heard him. I tried to hide the shock I felt. I’d seen these situations before of kids who got abused by their parents for one idiotic reason or another. I couldn’t help but see a younger Elliot in him–alone, frightened and in so much pain, both physically and emotionally.
“Bobby, it’s going to be ok. I’m just going to clean you up. Where is your spare outfit?” He looked at me, shaking his head slowly from one direction to another.
“I don’t have one. My mom, she, um, she forgot,” he said trying to cover for his mother like all children do. I stared at him, my heart shattering into a million pieces. This wasn’t the first time I suspected he was dealing with some issues at home. I gently wiped the tears from his soft cheeks, wanting nothing more than to beat the shit out of his parents, to show them exactly what it felt like.
“It’s ok. I’m sure I have something lying around here.” I offered Bobby my hand, and we walked over to the cubbies. Stopping at the one labeled with my name, slowly I took out the bag I stashed there with various children’s clothing for emergencies. I pulled the bag open and saw Bobby’s eyes go wide when he spotted the long sleeve t-shirt with a pirate print on it.
“I think these would look amazing on you.” I said, pulling the shirt out with a pair of dark denim jeans in his size. His smile beamed as his tiny fingers traced the pirates that were covering the shirt.
“Thank you.” He said with a wide grin. “I’ve never had anything so cool before. I’ll take really good care of it. I promise,” he said, his eyes pleading with me. His words were like a knife plummeting in my heart.
“No need to return it. It’s yours.”
“Really?” He asked, eyes hopeful.
“Really. I think you’ll look very handsome in it. Now run along and change.” I handed him a spare plastic bag. “Make sure you put your dirty clothes in this.” He nodded his head, his tears now forgotten as he skipped off to the class washroom to change. I knew what I’d done had nowhere near helped his daily situation, but I was glad that my small act had made him forget, even if just briefly. I knew, though, that I had to do more. Bobby deserved better than what he was currently getting in life.
When the bell rang and the littles all got their belongings together, I noticed that Bobby stood by the wall, shaking, his little fists at his side. I walked to him, wanting to see what was really happening. Most kids were scared to talk. They usually believed that their situation was somehow caused by them and, therefore, what they deserved. Some bullshit that their useless parents put in their impressionable minds.
“You ready to go home?” I asked, crouching down in front of him. His eyes were cast down, his feet making tapping patterns on the laminate flooring.
“I’m just scared,” he said, eyes still not making contact with my own.
“Can you look at me, Bobby?” I asked. He lifted his head, his light brown hair falling in his eyes. He needed a haircut. I gently moved the tuft that fell in front of his eyes back, and he flinched. I instinctively took my hand back, not wanting to make him uncomfortable in any way. “Bobby, you know you can tell me anything. I’m here for you. I want to help you.”