Teach me to trust

58. June 10th

I've been sat downstairs staring into space for what feels like hours.

The TV has been on quietly in the background since I came down here at around 3am but I can't seem to focus on actually watching it, too preoccupied with trying to figure out why my head is so scrambled.

There's an untouched cup of coffee on the coffee table in front of me – a brand new one courtesy of Nate, bought as soon as I told him why I wanted rid of mine.

I lay down on the couch in hopes of falling asleep but the longer I lay here I realise the attempt is useless, sighing to myself and rubbing my tired eyes, noting the stars in my eyes when I reopen them.

"Em?" a groggy voice calls across the room to me.

I lift my head and peer over the couch, seeing a ruffled Nate standing in the doorway, hair a mess on top of his head and his hand scratching at his bare chest.

"What are you doing down here? It's 6 o'clock" he shuffles towards me, still half asleep and barely able to lift his feet from the floor.

I shrug my shoulders and feel myself relax when he lays himself on top of me, head resting on my chest and I trace the muscles across his back, fingertips following the indent of his spine.

"What's the matter?" is his mumbled question, the words almost lost in the fabric of the t-shirt I stole from him before I came downstairs.

"Nothing" I begin, closing my mouth when he lifts his head and sends me a disapproving look, shaking his head at me slightly and clenching his jaw, "Sorry. It's not nothing I guess"

I laugh to myself when he drops his head back down at my response, lifting his hand to gesture me to continue,

"I don't actually know what's wrong" I whisper out, too afraid to break the serene silence between us "I just have this heavy feeling in my chest, and I can't sleep. I feel like somethings going to happen or like I'm forgetting something, but I can't put my finger on what, exactly"

I feel Nate hum against my chest in thought, lifting his arms to hold my sides and squeezing me gently, tilting his head to look up at me, slightly more awake now and a timid smile on his lips.

"Do you know the date today?" he asks and I frown, reaching over to grab my phone but he holds my hand to stop me, "It's June 10th" he tells me, squeezing my hand and kissing across my knuckles.

"June 10th" I repeat "Why does that date sound familiar? Don't tell me I've forgotten your fucking birthday or something"

"No, you're good, it isn't for another few months" he chuckles, leaning up on his elbows to watch my face, "June 10th is the trial date for Alistair"

My breath catches in my throat as the memory hits me full force. The phone call from the police a few days ago to confirm the date and to let me know I can attend if I want to. I didn't think it bothered me but clearly it did, knowing he was going to be sentenced so soon and realising that there was a very real possibility that he could be getting out.

I nod my head to myself in thought, undecided on whether the confirmation of what I was anxious about has made me feel better or worse.

"What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?" a tap on my forehead brings me back to attention, looking up at Nate and releasing a shaky breath.

"I'm scared" I admit, watching his face crumple at my words, brows creasing, and he turns over onto his side and tugs me into his chest, cradling me close to him and wrapping me up in his arms.

"No matter what the outcome I'm here. I've got you" he squeezes me, "Always"

We lay in comfortable silence for a few moments, the warmth from Nate's body and the feeling of security in his arms making my eyes feel heavy with fatigue,