Checkmate

15

At this point, there wasn't much Colton could do that'd surprise me. He'd shown up in the middle of the night, dragged me out of bed, and now was making me stand there waiting for him to put a proper sentence together.

I was so close to giving up when he finally spoke up that I nearly missed the beginning of his sentence.

"I wanted to apologize."

"You already did that at the office," I whined, annoyed that he made me waste my time.

"I mean about everything," he corrected himself.

As if that made it any better? I mentally scoffed.

"That too could've waited 'til sunrise."

"I waited long enough," he said, his jaw set.

I subconsciously pulled my robe tighter around my body. Even the small tick in his muscle couldn't camouflage the guilt and regret his eyes failed to conceal.

"I realized that I was wrong to think that I could just come back into your life and everything would be okay. Sam is... with him it's like painting on a white canvas and sometimes I guess it's easy to ignore our history and... I can't ignore it anymore."

He was sincere.

I hated when he was right, but on this, he was one hundred percent correct. There's no way we'll be able to move forward if we still haven't come to terms with all that happened. I didn't want to wander there, to that place of pain and loneliness. Where the dark memories that he'd left me with are my only form of comfort.

Without a single word, I moved to the side and let him through.

It was one of those times when neither of us knew what to say, the atmosphere sending me back to the days when we'd fight and be at odds for days.

I served him a glass of water and hopped on the stool.

He downed it silently while I leaned against the island while caressing my cheek as a yawn escaped me.

"How bad was it?"

I looked towards him, my eyes falling into his curious ones.

   My teeth gritted at the painful memory. The chatter in my mouth evoked reminders of a time when my face ached from the strength of his blow followed by the harsh collision with the countertop, as my heart churn from the reality that I was living. He'd laid a hand on me, and even as Sephora helped me pack his bags, somehow the knowledge that all was over between us hurt more than the ache in my broken jaw.

I shifted, suddenly aware of the tension in the air I desperately struggled for.

"The fracture was bad enough to make my gums uneven. They had to screw it back into place and then wired my mouth shut for seven weeks," I briefly explained.

As thorough and unimpacted as I wished to be when sharing this information, I couldn't help but look away. Focused solely on the smooth texture of my sleeves, I swallowed when he muttered a curse.

"Jesus fucking Christ..." he whispered, rubbing his eyes.

I nodded to myself, trying to ease my nerves.

He rubbed his palms on his thighs in a soothing manner. Each second that passed seemed to tighten the knot in my stomach.

"Was there any lasting damage?" he finally asked.

I nearly jumped at the sudden sound, disturbing the silence we'd so easily grown accustomed to.

I shook my head, "No."