February was also the first time in months we made love.
It’s not that I didn’t want her, I was just terrified of hurting her. She was healing, she was doing better, but every time I got it in my head that maybe we could try, she’d bump her arm, or cough and hurt her ribs, and it’d send me back to square one; too delicate. Must be gentle.
She’d walk around our room in tiny underwear to tempt me. She didn’t give one shit that she was injured, so her health and safety relied on me; a horny man whose girlfriend paraded around in tiny scraps of fabric or booty shorts.
Oh, the booty shorts!
She didn’t care that she was hurting me. She didn’t care that I’d had the worst case of blue balls in the history of the world. She’d still wear those panties, then she’d do the‘oh no, I dropped my’– insert something ridiculous here – napkin, earring.
Inhibitions.
She’d drop her shit right in front of me, then she’d bend down to pick it up, but not before wiggling her hips and biting her lip and looking back at me all‘Oh, I’m such a bad girl. I wouldn’t even be mad if you spanked me.’
Longest months of my life.
It took all of my willpower not to throw her down and take what she was offering. Every time I said no, it was just me trying to protect her. I was –I still am– terrified of hurting her. It’s like my brain has two versions of Kit; the amazingly strong, resilient competitive fighter version, and the exceedingly fragile, injured Kit who slept through most of December.
I can handle a lot of things in my life, Ihavehandled a lot of things, but hurting her, even by accident because of my out of control hormones, is on my no-can-do list.
But the night she agreed to be my wife, well, there was no stopping that runaway train.
Or charging bull, if you will.
It was everything we needed, and our relationship has only grown stronger every day since.
In March, Kit insisted on going back to work.
I desperately begged for more time. I shared everything with her; my thoughts, my fears, my worries.
My bank account balance.
She doesn’t have to work. She never has to work again.
But… she wants to. She felt three months off was more than enough. I admire her, for her hard work, her determination, her ethics. But I worry. So fucking much.
Her first day back was the first time since December she’d left my side. Literally.
I’m pretty sure I have some kind of post-traumatic issues from the hours she was missing, so those first days when she was back at work and not right in front of me were hard. Thankfully, she’s amazing and so fucking cool, she let me call her about a hundred times a day until I could relax. Not once did she get impatient, nor did she tease me. She understood I was hurting, so she made it as easy on me as she could.
I know. I’m a weak bastard.
At six and a half feet, and more than two-hundred and thirty pounds, this fighter needs his hundred and fifty pound– injured –fiancé to coddle him and tell him it’s all going to be okay.
I’m a strong motherfucker in every other aspect of my life, but Kit is my Achilles heel, and December tore it to shreds and spat it back out.
In April, Jack got his learner’s permit. This was exciting news for everyoneexceptKit. She’s terrified to let her cub out of her sight, and the worry she has for him is the very reason she didn’t give me attitude when I called a million times to check in on her.
Jack is Kit’s cub, and Kit is mine.
It’s just the way it is.
In May, we had Jack’s belated party and gave him the Rav.
A year ago, he’d have snatched the keys from our hands and peeled his excited ass out of there. But thisnewJack, the responsible, caring, loves-his-sister-more-than-he-loves-his-own-life Jack… he stared at the offered keys and shook with warring emotions. He wanted the car so bad he might wet himself, but he’d grown to be humbler in the past year, less spoiled and entitled, so hetriedto not accept.
It was too much, too expensive, too whatever he could think of in the moment.
The day of his party was awesome; all of my brothers came over. Tink and Iz, too. Even my mom dropped in and hung out for most of the day. We had dinner, cake, and lots of laughs, and we realized in all the darkness of December, we were finally coming back to who we used to be before Kit was hurt.