I’ve been trying to keep my mind occupied with anything other than Candace and what happened this morning, so when I’m completely burnt out from watching TV, I head upstairs to get ready for bed.
It’s after one in the morning when I hear a knock on my door after brushing my teeth. When I make my way back down, I peek out the windows to see who could be here this late, but there’s no car in the drive as the rain pours down. I unlock the door, and I swear to God, the whole world stops moving when I open it to see Candace. In an instant, she begins crying and falls into my arms. She’s soaking wet from the rain, and I know she had to have walked here.
For this moment, I lose my breath in her as I feel the warmth I thought I would never feel again. A warmth that only she can give me. She clings to me as she cries, and I break for her, not knowing what to say because I’m afraid if I speak, she’ll leave. She’s here, and all I want to do is make sure that she stays.
God, just stay.
Reaching down, I slip my arm behind her knees and scoop her into my arms as I carry her inside. She keeps her head tucked into me, and I’ve missed this so much. Even with her hurting, for whatever reason, I miss it. The touch, the feel of her skin, the smell of her hair. I have it all wrapped up in my arms, and it’s where I want to keep it.
I sit us down on the couch with her still in my lap, and I keep my arms tightly banded around her because I just can’t let her go. I listen to her sobs as they begin to soften into whimpers, feeling the soft quakes of her body as she takes in tiny gasps of air.
“Baby, what happened?” I finally ask, and when she lifts her head and stares into my eyes, I fall for her all over again. It’s in my heart, the heavy weighted emotion that’s nothing but the love I have for this beautiful girl. Needing to touch her, I reach up and run my fingers down the soft skin of her cheek.
“Jack died tonight.”
What did she just say?
Suddenly my heavy heart takes on a pounding as questions brew inside. What the hell happened after I saw him this morning? Fuck! Did I do it? Did I kick him too hard in the head? I could have easily killed him. Panic shoots through me, cold like ice, but the sudden rush of fear is diminished when she says, “Kimber called and told me he died in a car crash earlier today. Drunk driving accident or something.”
A hard breath thuds out of my chest. Relief. Maybe I’m sick, but there’s not a single piece of me that feels bad about this. But her? She’s so upset, and I have to wonder where her head is at with this.
She’s so close in my arms, tears still streaking down her face, and when I rest my forehead against hers, greedy to take every touch I can, she begins to ramble, an emotional mess.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know where to go. I’m so confused. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“Slow down, babe.”
“Should I be happy? Or relieved?” she asks as she pulls her head back and looks at me, pleading for answers I don’t have.
“Well, what do you feel right now?”
“Sad. And hurt,” she admits honestly before dropping her head and adding, “I don’t know why. It’s like all I can think about is Jack when he was good. Or when I thought he was. But I know he wasn’t. I know I should hate him. But, if I’m sad, does that mean I don’t hate him?”
Lifting her chin to look at me, I say, “I think you’re just in shock. I think you need a little time to sort this out in your head.” She rests her head back on my shoulder, and I feel her body lightly shivering under my arms. “Let me go get you a towel. You’re freezing.”
She slips off of my lap as I grab a couple of large towels from the guest bathroom, and when I return, I wrap one of them around her shoulders and then pull her back into my arms.
“You need anything to drink?”
She sits up, and I lose her touch as she clutches the towel around her, shaking her head no. I reach to her again and slowly pull her back against me. I’m selfish, but I don’t care. I’ve missed her so much. No matter how hard I try to give up on her, I just can’t. I bury it and keep myself busy enough to where I don’t think about her. But she’s always there, lying beneath, deep inside of me where I’m starting to believe she will always be. It’s like she’s the other half of me. The half that would make life miserable if I didn’t have it, so I’ve always kept it. It’s not even a choice.
“Talk to me,” I urge.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t even realize I was here until I was in front of your door.”
“I’m glad you’re here,” I tell her before I move to hold her face in my hands, trying to keep myself together when I let her know, “I’ve missed you so much.”
My words hurt coming out of me, a confession that shouldn’t be because she should just know, but I tell her anyway. The thought of her walking away from me now that I have her here in my home, in my hands, and so f**kin’ deep in my heart makes it hard to breathe right now. But she gives me hope, a hope I thought was forever lost, when I look into her eyes that are rimmed red with tears and she touches me. She gives me her soft hand as she places it on my face and runs it down my jaw, and then she crumbles. With her eyes shut, she chokes on the sobs that break through.
“Baby, don’t cry.”
Leaning in, I kiss her forehead, simply resting my lips against her. I need every second of this as I feel her coming back to me, until she pulls away, shaking her head, and then the knife strikes when she whispers, “I can’t.”