I try to quiet and slow the tears, but no matter what I think of, my body does what it wants. Viking doesn’t complain, though; he just holds me tighter to him.
Once we get inside the room, he carefully lays me in the middle of his bed and then takes his boots off. I turn over to my side, giving him my back and tuck my fists under the pillow I’m lying on. My tears still fall freely; they’re just silent now.
The bed dips behind me, and I start to protest that I can’t possibly turn it off enough to have sex right now. Viking distracts me so much, but at this moment, my body needs time to process and heal. Before I’m able to form the right words, so I don’t hurt him by turning him down, he pulls my back into his body.
His heat engulfs me like a blanket, and I’m shocked to realize that I was so cold and alone when he had laid me down. I felt his warmth on the way over here in his arms, but once I was away from him, I felt nothing.
How can someone break through enough that even when your body is in shock, it still recognizes them?
It feels like we’re in bed for hours with daylight fading to dusk. I lie completely silent and still against Viking as my tears escape. He doesn’t move once, holding me snuggly against him with his right arm. His head is resting on his left bicep as he softly plays with my hair, gently pulling it off my face as he soundlessly watches me cry. He doesn’t have to speak to fix me; he holds me, offering his support and comfort.
For a woman like me, that’s all I’ll ever need.
The brightness outside slowly disappears until it resembles dimmed lights flooding throughout the room as the sun finally sets and my emotions come to a crashing halt. I’ve found balance again, but my body’s exhausted, feeling as if I haven’t slept in days.
The tears stop completely, my tender cheeks starting to dry as my eyes get droopy, and it hits me that for the first time besides my mom, I feel cherished by someone. My heart doesn’t weep from being devastated anymore because of my father’s actions. Sure it still hurts me a great deal, but I can almost picture it mending back together—piece by jagged piece—as someone else fills up all the little voids with glue, making me whole again. Teaching me to open my heart and love again, not to push them away, but pull them near.
With that blissful thought, my eyes close and I whisper the words that have the power to crush me if they wanted to. They could dismantle me in the end, pull me apart by the seams if used against me. But even with that scary vulnerability exposed, he deserves to hear them, because even if he’s my undoing, my heart belongs to him.
“I love you, Vike.”
The whisper’s soft as it leaves my lips, but with the weight of what those three little words mean to me, it may as well have been a shout as I finally admit it to him out loud.
He doesn’t skip a beat, continuing to play with my hair. It’s okay, though; I didn’t expect him to answer me back. I like to believe inside that he truly cares for me, and right now, that’s enough.
Snuggling into the pillow as wonderful sleep starts to overtake my senses, Viking breaks the silence with his deep rasp.
“I know, Cinderella.”
Holding my breath, not letting myself succumb yet, I wait for him to tell me it’s over, that he can’t be tied down, even if I am supposed to be his Ol’ Lady.
A few beats pass before he continues, “I’ve loved you since I found you behind that bar and you looked at me like I was your savior instead of a monster.”
He grows quiet, and one last tear slips free as my heart sings with his declaration. Moving my hand to his at my waist, he threads our fingers together and pulls me a little tighter. His lips meet the back of my neck sweetly as I fall into the best sleep of my existence.
The next morning…
A door slams closed, the noise echoing throughout the small room and disturbing my sleep. Parting my lids, the overly bright sunlight shines in, mocking my splitting headache. Yesterday was a fucking train wreck, to put it mildly.
At some point, Cinderella will hear about me showing up and talking to her father if we end up hanging around the Charter for the barbecue and other get-togethers. Not looking forward to that shit storm.
The bathroom door swings open, my girl coming out with her belongings loaded up in her arms. She heads straight for her purse, dropping everything inside the oversized bag.
“Hey, baby.” It comes out sounding extra gruff, my voice a little raw from all the shouting yesterday.
Her fiery gaze meets mine, an eyebrow lifting as I scoot back to sit against the headboard. She ties my wife beater tank at her mid back, so it doesn’t swim on her small frame and messily twists her hair up, securing it with a pen from her purse. You’d think with how big the bag is that she’d carry a hair thing in it. Remaining silent, she picks up her cut off shorts from the floor, sliding them on and heads for her flip-flops.
“What’re you doing?” I rasp, feeling my forehead wrinkle as my head pounds.
She slips the other shoe on. “Exactly what it looks like. Leaving.”
Turning quickly, my feet hit the floor next to my pants. I pull my jeans on, leaving the button unclasped and head over to her so she can’t get outside without telling me what’s going on.
“You wanna be a little more specific?”
Last night everything seemed to be okay once she calmed down and fell asleep. I know my father scared her, but she’s a tough bitch. Besides that, I killed the fucker; she doesn’t have to worry about him coming back, ever again. I know my brother will leave her alone, so I don’t get why she’s upset.
Unless she’s pissed at her pops all over again? She’s clearly mad about something, as I tower over her, and she glares, probably wishing she could light my ass on fire.