A Different Divergent: Everyday Love

9

Chapter 9

Oh, shit! This is not good. Not. Good. Tobias is staring at the line of pale purple bruises on my upper right arm with wide eyes and an agonized expression. Although he's no longer buried deeply inside me, I'm still straddling his naked hips, and I can feel the tension rolling off of him in waves. I know better than to make light of this situation but I don't know what to say to make things better so instead of saying anything, I sit mute staring into his handsome face, holding my breath and ... waiting. After a full two minutes, he roughly moves me off his lap and gets up. I blow out the breath I'm still holding and gasp in lungful's of much-needed oxygen to appease my screaming lungs. As I watch him pulling on his jeans, panic blooms deep in my chest.

"What are you doing?" My voice is soft, uncertain. His wide, wild eyes meet mine for a split second. He looks like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders. "Baby, we can work this out. Just talk to me."

"I hurt you." Oh, God! I was afraid that's what he would think. So not good. What do I say to that? I can't deny the bruises. I finally drag myself up off the floor, and as I watch him pull his shirt on over his head, the anxiety in my chest raises to a new level.

"You didn't hurt me, Tobias," I adamantly say.

"Don't patronize me, Tris," he angrily says, raising his voice, although he's not quite yelling at me. "I have eyes. I can see the bruises." His eyes dart to my arm and agony flashes on his face. "I'm no better than my piece of shit father." I gasp. That couldn't be farther from the truth but the minute I saw what he saw, I knew where his thoughts would take him. Becoming Marcus Eaton has always been one of his greatest fears. I grab my basic black tee off the floor and slide it on over my head and am immediately thankful that it covers the burgeoning bruises. Oh, God! What are they going to look like tomorrow? I shake off the worrisome thought as he starts pacing back and forth, his eyes on the floor. It's hard to believe he's the same man that not five minutes ago brought me to multiple delicious orgasms. He's running his hand through his tousled hair then he abruptly stops. He brings his eyes to mine and for the first time in a very long time I can't see through his Four mask to decipher what exactly it is he's thinking. "I need some time to think, Tris. Can you give me that time?" His cold, distant voice is worse than a hard punch to the gut. Can I give him what he wants right now? Can I give him space? I don't think I can.

"Please don't leave me," I say, my voice panicky and needy. "Just talk to me, Tobias ... please." He hangs his head low, shaking it slowly back and forth.

"I've got to go, Tris," he says. "I need to think and I can't do that here." I'm suddenly transported back to the morning shortly after he rescued me from Peter, the only time he's ever walked out on me. I can't breathe. And for the second time in my life he turns his back on me to walk away.

"No! Don't leave me!" I scream at the top of my lungs, feeling a vulnerability I've never felt before. What if he doesn't come back? Tears roll down my face uncontrollably. He stops in his tracks, his body stiff with tension but he doesn't turn my way. "You don't get to walk away from me. You didn't do anything wrong, Tobias. Please don't go. Talk to me, baby."

"I. Need. Time," he says, each word clipped and unfeeling. I follow him as he heads toward the door.

"You don't have to do this," I plead, hoping something I say gets through to him. His hand stills on the doorknob. "Right now, we don't have a problem. I know you think we do but we really don't but, baby, if you walk out that door, things may never be the same again." He turns his head to the side like he's going to look at me but he doesn't. "If you won't think about me, think about the kids," comes out barely above a whisper. I think I've finally broken through when he puts his hands on his hips but instead he shakes his head.