BANGIN' (Urban)

FORTY ONE

Since she had literally broken to pieces in his arms, Braxton hadn't let Nadine go.

Part of it was for his own sanity. He always felt like he needed to be touching her, to feel the heat of her skin next to his at all moments. And if he couldn't do that, he had to be laying his eyes on her, drinking in every part of her that he had missed while always making sure he knew where she was.

Luckily for him, Nadine didn't seem to mind all of the attention he was paying her; in a lot of ways, it was helping her heal. While she still slightly tensed at his touch, avoided looking into his eyes for too long, and was picky with her words, he could feel some of that tightness melting away from her. Slowly, of course, but it was progress.

He knew she'd never be the person she was before, given all that had happened to her. Their relationship could never be the same, either. But sameness wasn't what he wanted. In fact, he didn't care for the kind of 'normal' they used to have. This was an opportunity for everything to change for them-- for him to be a better man and show her how he felt about her instead of just telling her.

Slobber leaked out of Nadine's mouth as she snuggled up under him, blissfully sleeping. While he needed to get up and use the restroom, he wanted to give her as many minutes of restful sleep as he could. Her nights were often filled with tossing, turning, and crying. And when she wasn't crying, she was screaming herself out of whatever horrid dreams she had been lost in.

The nights she slept the best, he noticed, was when there was absolutely no space between them. When their bodies fit like pieces of a puzzle, and neither of them could tell where they started and the other ended. 

Her eyes fluttered open slowly, and she seemed to be chewing on the sleep that just left her. She looked up at Braxton staring down at her, and he smiled, tucking one of her stray curls back into her bonnet.

"Mornin'."

"Hey," she groaned, a morning rasp tinging her voice. If she thought his morning voice was sexy, she had no idea how he felt about hers. Braxton would never tell her though; if Nadine found out that she could make him weak, he'd never hear the end of it.

"You hungry?"

"Of course," she grinned, making him do the same. Three weeks ago she would barely eat anything, to the point where Braxton made it a requirement that she stop answering that question with a 'no'.

He slid from under her, making his way into the kitchen. A few years ago, he'd never cook anything too elaborate. But since eating prison food, all he wanted to do was to make any and everything he could. It helped that cooking became one of his love languages for Nadine, as he enjoyed her silent company; she'd swing her legs from the countertop and just watch him work. In turn, he was always satisfied watching her reaction to eating anything he'd make: his skills were definitely getting better.

He began laying his ingredients out, knowing that she'd soon be joining him in the kitchen. His plan was to make French toast from a recipe he had seen on TikTok. Nadine had developed a terrible sweet tooth, so this was perfect.

She came out, still wearing his clothes that she had worn to sleep. She had yet to take Braxton up on his offer to buy her all new things, so she stayed in his clothes or in the few items she already had. Despite her refusals, Braxton already had Raegan putting together orders of every clothing item Nadine would need or want, as Raegan knew her style better than he did. He could only dress himself, and barely that.

Over the weeks, the safehouse cabin had become their home, giving them a lot more space than they had at Raegan's. Of course, they went over there everyday. But it was nice to come back and have as much privacy as they needed. Even if that privacy meant that Nadine's nose was deep in her journal, as she endlessly scribbled words that she either could not, or would not, say to him.