Die for You

Chapter 30

"That's not an answer, Becky," I told her as I sat in her chair feeling the tight grip of her hands against mine, the rough plaster of her cast rubbing against the palm of my right hand; its grainy coldness a brutal contrast to the soft warm fingers that clenched and relaxed as the terror of the situation fought to overcome me.

That's right, terror, big brave ex-Sergeant Freen Sarocha is terrified by little old Rebecca Armstrong; terrified that we have an attraction to each other, terrified of what might happen now, terrified of what my future might hold.

"You're right, Freenky, it's not much of an answer," she replied softly, lowering herself to the floor in front of me and sitting back onto her calves; her hands not leaving mine for a second, "but it's all I've got at the moment. You did kind of spring this on me, you know? It's all a bit much to take in right now."

"Yeah, likewise," I replied, chucking lightly at the stupidity of the statement. Here was I, turning up at her flat all fired up to tell her how I felt about her, only to have the tables well and truly turned on me. One angry conversation and everything between us has changed, it's like the earth slipped sideways five inches during that 'row' and the planet on which we stand will never be the same again.

"Your mate Joanna really did a fucking number on me," I said shaking my head in disbelief.

"Yeah," she agreed, "she does that."

I sat back in my chair, slipping my fingers from her and running them through my hair.

"We still need to work out what we're going to do, Bec," I told her as she leaned forward, crossed her arms on my knee and placed her chin on them.

"I don't think we need to do anything, Freenky, I really don't. I don't see why we have to go about behaving any differently than we have been doing."

I looked at her as she squatted there, tilting her head slightly in anticipation of my response. I didn't really have an answer for her, well not one that wasn't my usual one, the one Joanna had told me was just an excuse.

"Things can be complicated, Freen, I meant what I said. But we can work them out, I'm sure of that."

Complicated, I'm pretty sure this is exactly what this situation is going to be. I made a note to discuss this with fucking Joanna tomorrow in my next session; thank her kindly for ruining what should have been my nice, peaceful life and my nice peaceful new job.

"Honestly, Freenky, what will we have to do differently? We can act in the same way as we have been, we just need time to get to know one another properly. I promise I won't push you if you'll relax and let things happen."

Let things happen? I think I can actually do that. Well, I can do it if my one last major fear is dealt with.

"What if this is all in your head?" I asked her, voicing the thing that still won't let go of my heart. "What if this is all just due to what we've been through together? What if it's not really real, what if it's just some sort of rescuers complex thing?"

She rocked back on her heels and looked at me placing her hands onto my knees to balance herself.

"For fuck's sake, Freen, can you please change that record? Did you not listen to a word I said?"

"Of course I did," I said defensively as the Armstrong-fury looked close to coming back, "It's just..."

"This has nothing to do with what happened to us," she paused for a second and looked at me sharply. "Actually that's not true, it does have something to do with that. It has a lot to do with what's happened between us, but..."