Soulmates ✓

19 | Healing; One Scar At A Time

Every single fiber of her being is on fire.

Here lying in Ryan's arms, wrapped in his soothing scent and consumed in his warmth, she is a shimmering potion of guilt and comfort. Liquid fire courses through her veins when Ryan's hand moves to drape over her waist as if to guard her against falling off the couch. And even though she tries, she can't stop relaxing against his body when he pulls her closer.

Her eyes open in a hazy gaze, raw from sleep and burning insides, to follow the lengths of their bodies, down, down to their feet. Ryan's feet, covered in black socks, propped over the arm of the couch. Her feet hooked around his calves, safe and secured from falling off the edge. Her tiny frame is held possessively under his shield.

She has a desperate hold on his chest, her fists balled on the soft fabric of his t-shirt, her palm sweaty, and her cheeks wet. The ghosts from her past are back tonight, and every time she tries to fall asleep, they come to haunt her dreams.

But tonight, Shay has Ryan to seek peace. Now that his arms are holding her close, his heart is beating against her skin; she wants to burrow closer. Shay wants to hide her face in the crook of his neck and let his warm strength wash over her. His touch is not so intimate, though; it's more protective, and maybe it's the nightmares that Shay wants to avoid, but either way, she wants to stay like this as long as this dream goes on.

Her breath stalls, and not because she can feel his pulse thumping in his throat against her nose, but it's his knuckles running along the length of her spine, her side, and back up. He's stroking her as if even in a deep sleep, he can feel her pain, her anxiety, her nightmares. And she likes it.

Shay loves it.

So very much.

Dare she wish to live this moment forever?

He is the man she has known all her life, yet he makes her feel something entirely new with each new touch and his words. She had never felt like this for him before, never knew she could feel like this for him, and certainly never thought it would be the most amazing feeling. How can something be so wrong yet so right, not reaching for yet so approachable?

She presses her face under the hollow of his chin, sliding her palm over his ribs and curls around his back. He shifts on his side, pulling her in, and makes a low sound, probably because she breathes in his scent, making him mumble incoherent words, bringing his lips to the top of her head. The dark cloud hovering above her head, like a constant reminder of loss and loneliness, evaporates within seconds, and she feels sheltered in his arms. She feels so perfect and almost like a dream. A dream she wishes to last.

The rhythm of his heartbeat against her creates a perfect lullaby as she waits for sleep counting the beats of his pulse.

Here in this moment, her grief stays a good foot away from her. There's no lost promise of forever, no bright light of traffic, no painful cries of her lover, no bloodied hands reaching out to her, or no lightning and thunder, just a warmth that almost feels like her haven.

Shay doesn't want to walk away from this. She is going to let her scars heal, one at a time. Shay will give into this and let the ghosts of her past stay just there. If time heals everything, shouldn't she have healed by now?

Maybe, it needs more than just time. She needs an anchor, a rock who can hold her in the present and live the happy moments. Now that she has found the reason, she can finally let go.

***

The next morning, she hangs her head over the toilet for the fourth time since she opened her eyes on fire with a fever. Her stomach and throat go taut with each wretched heave as she vomits. Her body shakes, chills spread across her skin, and sweat saturates every pore.