Aftermath

Part 9

I opened the front door to the house and stepped into the foyer with Derek. I took a deep breath, enjoying the fact that we were finally home. It was around noon now, and I turned to face Derek, who was doing the same thing I was.

"Let's get you settled upstairs and I'll make you something for lunch," I offered.

"You? Make me something for lunch?" He teased.

"Shut up! Sandwiches aren't that hard," I laughed.

"Hey! You guys finally made it home!" Jackson appears out of the living room.

"Yes, we did." I smile. 

Derek and I made our way over to the stairs and I wrapped my arm around my husband to steady him as he grasped the railing and me to slowly make his way upstairs. When we reached the top, he was breathless and I quickly helped him into our room.

Instead of laying right in the bed, he went over to the dresser and pulled off his shirt to change into some new clothes. In a mirror I could see the reflection of his scar, and it sent shivers through me. 

He glanced up at my reflection in a mirror that sat in the corner, doing a double take when he saw I was staring. Quickly I dropped my gaze and turned around, pulling off my own shirt to change as well. When I was done changing I turned back around to face him.

Derek was standing there, still topless, watching me. I looked away as he stepped closer.

"The scar, right?" He asked softly. 

I nodded, still avoiding his gaze. He stepped even closer, now only a few inches away from me. I felt his hand in mine and he gave it a squeeze. I finally risked a look at his face, trying to avoid the chest. 

I frowned when I felt him moving my hand upwards. Upwards towards his chest.

"Derek," I said, gently trying to pull away but he held on.

He used his other hand to cup my face, forcing me to look at him as he slowly put my hand on the scar.

I gasped and shut my eyes when I felt it, making another attempt to pull away, but he held me there. I felt tears sting at the back of my eyes, and a lump rose in my throat. I pushed it back, slowly opening my eyes to again look at his face.

For once, I couldn't read him. I just stared into the pools of bright blue, slowly starting to relax. He pushed my hand a little harder into his chest before he dropped the hand that was holding mine there.

My first instinct was to pull it away, but instead I kept my hand there, drawing in steadying breaths and running my fingers along his skin.

"It's okay," he whispered, "I'm okay."

I wrapped my other hand around his body and stepped in to kiss him, passionately. He held me close to him as he deepened the kiss. Before it could go any further, I pulled away.

"You should, uh, get in bed. I'll make lunch and bring it back up here. We can watch a movie or something," I say, easing him down into the bed. 

I reach over and grab a shirt out of his dresser, tossing it to him before I went downstairs. I leaned against the island, running my hands over my face and through my hair for a minute.

"You okay?" Jackson asks, and I look up to see him leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen.

"I'm fine." I reply with a fake smile.

"You want me to make something? I'm not very skilled in the kitchen either, but probably better than you," He jokes.

I nod and chuckle. Jackson opened the pantry, finding a can on chicken noodle soup.