When I wake up, everything feels lighter. For the first time in a long time, I don't feel like I have to look around corners or avoid being alone. I get to sleep in and wake up when I want... which is apparently sometime in the middle of the day, according to the clock on the nightstand. Lindsey is still passed out beside me and I smile a little, tracing his jawline with the back of my fingers. He hasn't shaved in a couple days, and I have to admit that its kind of sexy. He wakes up at my touch.
"Good morning," I say, watching his eyes flutter open and focus on me.
"Good morning," he says, taking my hand from his face and kissing my palm. I just smile and look at him, enjoying the stillness of the morning.
"You slept well," I say. He never sleeps this late.
"Well, yesterday kind of wore me out."
"Do you feel okay?"
"I have a bit of a headache. But I probably look better than you," he says, looking at my face. He eyes travel down my body, and I know that he can see the bruises on my arms. I'm grateful that everything else is covered, because the blow to my torso definitely left a mark. He wouldn't respond well.
"I'm okay," I say for probably the thousandth time this week. "It's after noon already."
"Is it? Good thing I don't have any plans today."
"Aren't you supposed to meet Sherrie?"
"Sherrie and I are done."
"Does she know that?"
"She came over while you were writing last night. It look roughly 3 minutes."
"Oh." I don't know what to say, but he doesn't seem affected by it, so I'm sorry doesn't seem appropriate. "Is that okay?"
"It wasn't going to go anywhere. We were wasting our time."
"Okay, then."
"So," he says, rolling onto his side. "What do you want to do?"
"I guess it's probably safe to go back to my house now."
"You want to leave?"
"Well, not really, no."
"Then don't," he says, his finger tracing lazy patterns on my arm.
"I think it's time for me to do some of this on my own."
"Stevie. I want you to stay," he says, sounding concerned and a little sad. "You've been through a lot."
"But I'm not in danger anymore, and I'm tired of being a burden. You need to get back to work and I need to start putting my life back together."
"Give yourself another week. Please?"
I shake my head, becoming more resolved as he argues with me. I really don't want to leave him, but I know the path we're on is a dangerous one. I'm already getting used to waking up to him. This never ends well for us, and I don't have the ability to handle a broken heart right now. I need to focus on healing. "I need to do this," I say, sitting up.
He kisses my hand again, staring at our entwined fingers. "I can't make you stay."
"I'll come back to work. I'm not going to disappear," I assure him.
He relents and after a leisurely brunch at home, he loads my things back into the car and drives me to my house. After showing me all the new security codes and helping me bring my things in, he reluctantly says goodbye and leaves me on the front porch. I promise to call him every day.
