“Yeah, I know. I guess I just wanted a couple more weeks of the bubble we were in. One where he doesn’t look at me with pity or concern. Or I’m triggered by him being sweet to me or mentioning a future together. I don’t want him forced to look after me when I fall apart.” My throat tightened. “I don’t want that.” I looked up at them. “What if it happens again, and he decides it’s too much, anyway?” I wouldn’t think any less of him if he did. Having a girlfriend who had panic attacks or shut down completely was a lot for anyone.
“That’s not Manic,” Eves said.
* * *
I couldn’t sleep. I hadn’t slept properly since I asked Manic to leave. Four nights had passed since I had drinks with my girls, and their words of wisdom were flying around my head.
I missed Manic. Feeling his arms around me, the comforting sound of his breathing, the way he’d talk softly to me after we’d had sex and were snuggling.
I just missed him.
Flinging off the covers, I climbed out of bed and pulled on my jacket. I told myself I didn’t know where I was going, that I’d drive around for a while and clear my head, but a short time later, I was driving by his place.
The lights were out, but his truck was parked out front.
I did another loop around the block and drove by a second time. He’d given me a key to his place not long after we got back, and it was burning a hole in my jacket pocket. I couldn’t just go in there, could I?
He said he was there if I needed him, right? And I couldn’t sleep, not without him beside me. God, tonight, I couldn’t breathe.
The next time I swung around the block, I stopped outside his house and turned off the engine. This was a terrible idea. But my hand was already on the handle, pushing the door open, and before I could think about it, I was rushing up the path to his front door. I didn’t knock. I pulled his keys from my pocket and opened the door, slipping inside, heart in my throat, and headed down the hall to his room.
It was quiet, and when I pushed the door open, I could see him lying there, the moonlight filtering through the half-open curtains.
He was awake, his eyes glinting in the shadowy room.
My mouth was dry and my knees felt weak at finally seeing him. I’d spent seven nights without him, seven endless nights. My mouth opened, then closed, struggling to find the words. “I can’t sleep,” I whispered, not knowing what else to say. I was there for the comfort only Manic could give me, but selfishly, I couldn’t offer him anything else. Not yet.
Without a word, he lifted the covers and held out his hand.
I slipped off my jacket and scrambled in, and he pulled me into his arms. The heat of his skin soaked into me instantly, the sound of his even breaths, the way he smelled soothed me like nothing else. My heart stopped racing and so did my mind.
I closed my eyes—and passed out.
* * *
Manic
Addie was gone before I woke, but that was okay.
I hated it, but yeah, it was okay because she’d come to me when she’d needed me. And after a week without her, I was happy for whatever she’d give me. I’d do anything to make this easier on her. Christ, my girl had been exhausted. She’d passed out as soon as I had her in my arms.
The next night, she came back again, coming to me in the dark, and clung to me. I didn’t try for more, and she didn’t ask for it, so I gave her what she needed.
I’d become her anchor while she found her feet. I would always be that for her, and I hoped her coming to me like she was meant she’d started to realize that as well.
Until she was ready for more—I’d be whatever she needed me to be.
I’d let her take the parts of me she could handle.
I’d hold her steady until she could do it for herself.