Snowed In

Chapter 21

We moved around the kitchen in tandem as we cleaned. We fiddled around cleaning and putting dishes away. He was quiet. I knew he wanted to talk about something, but he was just humming to himself. He kept fidgeting with things, reorganizing the silver in the drawer, opening the refrigerator only to take nothing out of it. He swept the floor three times. The last of the dishes were done and put away, the floor was super clean, I expected him to start scrubbing it any minute, but he still hadn't said anything. He was clearly nervous. With nothing to busy his hands with, he was just twisting them in front of him. I walked over to him and took them in my own to help still them. I figured whatever it was he needed help getting the words out. I lifted his knuckles to my lips and placed gentle kisses across them. I looked up into his eyes. They were beautiful as usual, but they held an odd look. I don't think I had ever seen him actually nervous. He was extremely nervous. His hands were cold. It was the first time I'd ever seen him uncomfortable in his own skin. I began to worry.

"What's going on in there sweetie?" I looked deep into his eyes. He read my worry and concern for exactly what it was, worry and concern. I think he might have gotten the wrong idea entirely and as usual, he set his own fears and concerns aside and focused on me.

"Oh Goodness? Are you okay? Is everything alright?" He took my hands and held them tight as if he felt like I was going to run away or something. It was clear that in being so nervous he forgot what he'd said upstairs.

"I am just fine. As far as I know, things are great. Upstairs you said you wanted to talk to me about something and whatever that is, seems to have a giant hold on you. This kitchen couldn't be any cleaner. What's up?"

"Oh yeah! Shit! I did. It does. It could! I didn't mop the floor. But we are okay though? You are okay? I'm losing my mind. It's stupid. I don't know why I can't just spit this out. Can we go sit down." He looked first at one couch then the other and shook his head.

"Is there no place in here where we haven't been together?" He was still holding my hands. Goodness, what the hell had him so riled and confused? I had never seen him this way except for our first night there. Was he on the verge of a panic attack? Nothing he could say could be so bad that he needed to panic, unless. I tossed that thought out the window and down the dark desert highway. It had no place in what we were doing together. He needed help. I didn't want to watch him melt. I needed to know the general area of his thoughts, but I didn't want to stress him by guessing. I was going to have to guide him through his storm almost blind myself.

I led him to one of the couches and into a sitting position by pushing down on his shoulders. Leaving my hands there, I sat on the coffee table in front of him. I leaned in and pressed my lips gently to his. I pulled back hoping that was a magic reset button.

"Focus on me. Deep breath in, deep breath out. Whatever it is, we got this. I am ready whenever you are, but there is no rush."

He stared at me profoundly. He was a bit more shocked and taken aback then I had expected, But his eyes cleared and his shoulders relaxed. He focused on my eyes and pulled my hands from his shoulders holding them in front of us.

"Can't be held down. I don't like it." He looked around got distracted for a second then returned his eyes to mine. He took a deep breath. Squeezed my hands and let his breath out. He did this several times while he tried to calm his mind. He had great coping techniques. He put his feet flat on the floor and straighten his back and squared his shoulders as he sat. He looked at me for a long while then closed his eyes. He kept breathing, deep and slow. It took some time for him to calm. I could feel his slow pulse in his wrist. Finally, he had himself under control.

"Okay. Okay." He nodded and blew out a long breath. He didn't let my hands go but he loosened his grip. "Did I hurt you?" He cried looking down at my hands. There were red spots, fingerprints from his fingers, but my skin marked easily, the marks always faded. His breathing picked up again. His eyes grew a bit wider. We were headed right back in. I needed to stop him before he got himself worked up again. Kissing him worked before, but he feared he had hurt me when he really hadn't. I had to think fast. Recall all the different things that he responded well to.