Hard to Love

9. Laura

I hear Seth before he says a word to me. The door isn't shut quietly; it's practically slammed. Gripping the edge of my nightgown, for a moment I wonder if it's him or someone else since it was shut so hard. But then I hear the jingle of the keys as they hit the bowl we keep in the kitchen. It's an old ceramic bowl my grandma gave me. At least he didn't throw the keys in there hard. I'd have to kick his ass if he ever broke it.

I must have dozed off; the clock on the nightstand tells me it's nearly nine. When I check my phone, still hearing Seth slamming what sounds like the fridge door, I see a handful of messages Cami sent. Shit, we were supposed to go out. She gathered, in the series of texts I'm reading, that I forgot or that I was busy.

Writing her a quick reply, I tell her I'm sorry. I never miss our dates. Ever. I feel like complete shit that I fell asleep.

I answer the two questions she asked me as well. They're questions about birth control. I promise in the next message I'll make it up to her.

She's quick to tell me it's okay. She's already replaced our date with one with Derrick.

I would feel relief, but Seth's still out there.

There's a little nagging piece inside of me. Digging and clawing, making me feel that something really is wrong. It heats my skin; it sickens my stomach. It tells me to worry. This is what he does when I'm not looking. He bangs shit around and lets out his stress that way.

As I'm walking in the hallway, not trying to be quiet, but quiet nonetheless, I hear the slam of his fist on the counter. My heart jolts in my chest, seizing for a moment until I peek out from the threshold and see my towering man hunched over, both forearms resting on the counter, his head laying between them. His broad shoulders stretch the white t-shirt he's wearing tight over his muscular back. Every muscle ripples as he breathes in deep in what looks like an attempt to calm himself.

"Everything okay?" I ask a little quieter than I'd planned, feeling that aching whisper scream inside. My fingers twitch with the need to hold him, to come up behind him and comfort Seth as he's done for me so many times. But I wait.

Some nights are bad and he doesn't like to be touched then. Not when he first gets home. Maybe it's because he wanted to throw shit around like he is now, but he couldn't because I was home.

He lifts his gaze to me and instantly softens. His exhale is short as he stands up straighter, running his hand over the back of his head. "Sorry, Babygirl. I didn't know you were home. Thought Cami and you were going out?"

Seth clears his throat and then opens his arms, urging me to come over to him. I don't waste any time molding myself to the side of his body, feeling his heat. With one arm around my waist, he hugs me back and then lifts the beer on the counter to his lips with his free hand.

"You okay?" I ask once the glass clinks on the counter, noting he takes his time with the swig, probably to get his thoughts in order.

"Fine," he breathes out although stress is prominent in his answer. "How did the studying go?" he asks me, changing the subject. He does that a lot, but I can still see the torment that clings to him. Maybe he thinks he hides it well, but he doesn't.

"So you don't want to talk?" I ask him, hoping maybe all he needs is a push.

All he gives me is a weak smile though. I already knew he wouldn't confide in me. It's just not who he is. Grabbing both of his hands and making him leave the beer on the counter, I tell him to come with me.

His fingers barely grip mine until I give his hand a squeeze.

"You all right?" he asks and a new worry rips through his expression. It's fresh, not tired. And fear, not stress.