Lean on Me || Jill Roord

24. Fixing This

The pounding headache I had didn't go away all morning; not even the paracetamol I took was helping. And the constant overthinking I was doing about lunch with Jill in an hour surely wasn't helping.

Our heated makeout had been on replay in my head the moment I woke up today; not that I was upset by this, but it made me worried for how this conversation could go. Earlier this morning, I had texted Jill to confirm, and she still agreed on lunch, which I was thankful for. If I didn't talk to her now, I don't think I ever would. At least not in the right way.

I parked my car along the road and took a deep breath in, gripping the steering wheel as a way to ground me. I don't think it was working. When I got out, the chilling air went right through me, making me shiver as I wrapped myself tighter in my coat. It wasn't like it was that cold, but the wind made it ten times colder than I was used to. I didn't know if Jill had arrived yet as I approached the small cafe, but when I saw a slightly taller figure standing outside, I knew it was her.

"Hey Jill," the figure glanced up, and a faint smile appeared on Jill's face.

"Hey Caroline," I gave her a smile and pulled the door open so she could enter. With a quiet 'thanks' I followed her inside, and we sat down in a booth with a view of the street. Snow had fallen earlier in the week, and the ground was covered in only a thin white layer, making the whole city quieter than it really was. The bustling city had slowed down, and the holiday season approached, and people took time off to spend time with their families and whatnot.

"How are you feeling after last night, hm?" Jill asked with an amused look. Had I done something else I didn't remember?

"I'm okay. Just have a nagging headache, honestly." She hummed, and silence engulfed us, a suffocating tension building as the minutes passed.

"Caroline," Jill began, breaking the silence as she looked down at the mug in her hands. "I can't—I," she paused again. A pit formed in the stomach as she struggled to find her words. "I can't keep doing this. Fighting, then pretending were fine. It hurts. Especially when I don't know why we're truly fighting in the first place. I just wish you'd talk to me instead of me constantly asking questions and then you getting upset, you know." She sounded defeated, and I think that's what hurt me the most. I'd caused so many issues between us solely because I didn't know how to communicate my feelings.

"Jill look, I-" She wasn't looking at me, so I paused, biting my lip for a moment. Without much of a second thought, I took her chin in my hand, lifting it up so I could see her pretty green eyes. "I'm sorry, Jill. I really am. I've realised how much my actions have hurt you, and I'm really really sorry. Everything has been my fault, and I accept that. I've let my frustrations from injury take over, and I've laid them on you, and I recognise that that isn't okay. I thought I could get through this injury by myself without having to let others in. I realise I couldn't have been more wrong.

It's hard for me to let people in, to let people help me through things like this, but I recognise that I need to. That I need to let others's help me when I'm at my weakest. And I want to try. I want to communicate my feelings; I want to be able to trust myself enough to rely on the people around me to take care of me. I know what I've done has hurt you, and I don't know how I can make it up to you, but you mean more than anything to me, Jill.

You're one of the best things that's ever happened to me, and I'll do anything to keep you in my life. You're the most understanding, caring, hard-working, gorgeous, funny, and strong. I could go on forever, but I hope you get the point. Let me make up my wrongs; let me fix things between us. Please."

Jill's face was unreadable; I'd poured my heart out and risked almost everything for her. I couldn't lose her, and I prayed she'd let me make things right.