All the Little Raindrops(48)

CHAPTER TWENTY


Evan was relieved that she let him stay. He almost thought she wouldn’t. They’d hurt each other this way before. And though he thought they had a clearer picture of what they were offering each other this time, he couldn’t really be sure. He’d meant what he’d said about feeling a sort of rebirth when they’d escaped those cages. He was relearning everything. His boundaries, his emotions, his comfort level. His identity. His place in the world. His view of humanity. He was constantly spinning. Reeling. And being with her, spending the night with her in his arms, was the first time in so long that he’d felt grounded.

They ordered room service and ate in bed. Then they made love again. And again. He took such immense pleasure in watching her explore her limits, both physical and emotional. And he found healing too. He’d been victimized as well. He’d worried that he’d carry visions with him that would haunt him during intimacy. But that wasn’t the case. She was all that he saw. He lived that night only in the present, and it helped patch together his wounded soul.

The third time they had sex, she didn’t cry. “No tears,” he said, rolling over and bringing her with him.

She laughed down at him, her face going serious. “No tears,” she confirmed.

“You’re better now.”

“That easy?”

He nodded. “Should I send my bill?”

She laughed and socked him lightly on the shoulder.

In the deep of night, they woke, fingers hooked, eyes fluttering open as they stared at each other. He didn’t know where he was, only that his hand was stretched and she was holding him the way she once had. The memory fell over him like an oily rain. The cage. The cold. The fear. The feelings of that place, that time, all came pouring in. Noelle gasped, pulling her hand away and sitting up, her back to him. Evan swallowed, leaping up and reaching for the lamp on the bedside table. He was unsteady, and in his flailing, the lamp clattered off the table and onto the floor, the bulb smashing.

The room remained dark. So dark. Too dark.

Am I still there? Was I dreaming that I was free?

Evan heard Noelle’s quiet keening and felt his way along a wall, his fingers encountering a switch. He flicked it upward, and the room was bathed in blessed light. He was sweating. So hot. Breathing hard.

Just a rented room, the bedsheets rumpled. But it wasn’t that rented room, the one where he’d piled furniture in front of the door. The one where he’d peeked through the curtains expecting to see a man in red shoes walking down the dusty street, a caricature of a smile stretched across his hate-filled face. That nightmare had haunted him once, but he hadn’t dreamed it in a while. Hadn’t even thought of it for so many months. Until now.

Noelle sat on the edge of the bed, her arms crossed over her bare breasts, eyes wide as they darted around the room. He could see on her face that her mind had taken her to that cage, or that motel, or even perhaps that room on the second floor that he’d tried so hard to wipe from his brain.

He went to her, going down on his knees on the floor and taking her hands in his. She lowered her arms, gazing at him. She was so beautiful. He’d thought it when he’d seen her standing in the courtyard of the coffee shop in her striped blue shirt and white pants, hair pulled away from her face. She’d looked fresh then. Young, but also older than she’d been. She looked so vulnerable now, and he wanted to take the haunted look from her eyes, but even though he hadn’t meant it, it was there because of him.

They were like wounded warriors who had been through the bloodiest of battles together. They found refuge in each other’s understanding because in many ways their experience was unspeakable. Together, they required no words. But being in each other’s presence also brought with it visions and memories that were easier to bury when that person wasn’t there.

If he hadn’t known that before, he knew it now.

And it broke his heart. It did, and for the same reason it had the first time. He craved her. He needed the solace only she offered. But she also triggered him in a way no one else could. It had been easier to be away from her. And it ripped him in two.

He kissed her knuckles. He opened her hand and put his mouth on her palm. When he looked back up at her, she still wore that vulnerable look, but warmth had entered her eyes.

“We’re still a mess,” she said.

He sighed. “In some ways.”

“I’ll never regret this,” she said.

“You’re cutting me off,” he said. Again.

“It’s what we both need, Evan.” She lifted their entwined hands and kissed his scars one by one. He wanted to argue, but he really couldn’t. It hurt, but he knew she was right.

“I guess so. How do we know?”

“We know by living our lives.”

A fissure formed in his heart, fibers ripping. He felt it. No one could ever convince him those words didn’t alter his physical self in some measurable way.

He put his head on her knees, and she stroked his hair. “I feel empty when I’m away from you,” he said. “This last year, I’ve thought about it a lot.”

“Me too. But the emptiness is . . . important in a way too.”

“Yes,” he admitted. “But it also hurts.”

“That will fade.”

He felt that tearing again, his heart being stretched in two directions. He knew she was right, though. For now. Maybe forever. No future could be built on a foundation of trauma and nothing more.