I rush across the room to her side, and when she finally stops to catch her breath, she sees me.
“We’re leaving. Now,” I demand as I take in her tear-stained face.
“Excuse me, but this is a private matter,” I hear her mother say, but I don’t take my eyes off of Candace as she continues to cry, staring at me in shock. I’m pissed, and she sees it.
Holding out my hand for her, her mother doesn’t stop when she threatens, “Candace, if you walk out, it’s over. Don’t come back. We refuse to sit back and watch you ruin your life.”
When her mother says this, anger roils inside of me, and I want to slap the f**k out of her lily-white ass for threatening her own daughter.
“Daddy?” Candace says as she looks to her father, pleading, and it hurts to hear her so desperate.
“We’re done letting you play games, bunny. No more.”
She stands there, tears falling from her eyes while she looks at her parents. All I want to do is take her away. Comfort her and get her out of here. And when she slides her hand in mine, that’s exactly what I do. I grip her tightly and get her out of this house as fast as I can. I snatch up our coats and walk her out to my car.
When I open the door for her, she reaches out to grip the side of the seat, and I know she’s about to break, so I grab her and pull her into me. Clutching my arms around her, I hear it. Painful sobs start to break through, and she clings to me, crying.
The tension in my body is heady with the urge to put her in the car and go inside to knock the shit out of her parents. I’m fueled by disgust for these people. That they would lash those words at Candace, leaving her broken in their driveway, falling apart in my arms. But at least they’re my arms that are attempting to comfort her, because even though she doesn’t know it, I don’t think anyone could give her what I want to give her. I’d give her the f**kin’ world if I could.
After a while, her body begins to shiver with chills as she starts to quiet down. She keeps her head tucked against me, and I feel her fingertips pressed into my back. Her breathing is staggered, and when she pulls back, she keeps her head down, not looking at me—embarrassed. I lean down and kiss the top of her head before helping her up into the car.
The drive back is somber. I look over to her as she stares out the window. She’s sad, and my need to comfort her is overwhelming. She must sense me watching her when she turns her head to me. Her chin quivers, and she shrugs her shoulders, defeated, as fresh tears fall down her cheeks. I reach over and take her hand, pulling it onto my lap. I keep it there all the way back to her house.
Once we’re inside, I go to the kitchen to get her a glass of wine, figuring she could use one. As I walk into the living room, she’s curled on the couch with her heels kicked off on the floor. I hand her the glass and she swallows it fast before handing it back to me. Setting it on the end table, I sit down, leaning into the corner of the couch and pull her between my legs and on top of me. She lies there and doesn’t move as I thread my fingers through her soft, thick hair.
“You okay?” I ask.
She doesn’t answer, she just shakes her head and after a second begins crying again, wetting my shirt as she nuzzles into my chest. I strengthen my arms around her and let her cry without saying anything.
The hurt coming out of her is hard to listen to, but I do, and it breaks me. Breaks me in a way that even though I hate it, I find myself savoring it. The connection. Her need for me right now and the contentment I find in being the one to give it to her.
Time passes and she’s fallen asleep on me. I can feel her steady breaths against me, and I’d hold on to her all night, just like this, if I knew she’d be okay with it. I want to be selfish and take it, but I know she wouldn’t be comfortable with it. So as much as I don’t want to feel her move off of me, I comb her hair with my fingers, and whisper, “Candace.”
“Hmm,” she softly hums as she stirs awake.
“It’s getting late. You should go sleep in your bed.”
Placing her hands on my chest, she pushes herself up, and I notice her bloodshot eyes.
“Are you gonna be okay if I leave?” I ask, hoping she’ll want me to stay, but knowing that it’s just a hope.
She nods her head and sits up. I move to stand and turn to take her hand, pulling her off of the couch and into a hug. She bands her arms around me, and I tell her, “We can stay here tomorrow. We don’t have to go to my mom’s.”
Leaning her head back to look up at me, she says, “It’s okay.”
“Candace . . .”
“I could use the distraction. I’ll be okay,” she tries assuring me.
“Call me when you wake up. You might feel differently in the morning.”
She walks me to the door and before I leave, she stops me, saying, “Ryan . . .” I look back at her, and she takes a pause before continuing, “I’m sorry . . . tonight just . . .”
“Don’t worry about it. Honestly.”
“Thanks,” she says softly before I walk out.
Candace called me when she woke up this morning, assuring me that she still wanted to go to Oregon. I offered to stay here with her, but she told me that she really did want the distraction, so I didn’t question her any more about it.
I finish packing my bag, and I think about how things with the two of us have shifted in the past couple of weeks. I’m falling for this girl hard, and I know I’m not gonna be able to keep this from her for very much longer, but I’m nervous that I might ruin what we have. Honestly, even though it isn’t enough for me, I’ll take it if this is all she wants to give.