Laying the shirt on my lap but not letting it go, I answer the phone with my other hand and see I’ve missed three texts from Kamden.
You okay?
Hey babe I just need you to message me, okay?
Please, Ella. I’m a PITA but I love you and anything will do.
As I’m reading them, another comes through. Don’t be mad, I messaged Damon.
Shifting so my ass is on the floor, I let the shirt go and respond. I’m here. Just had a moment. It’s not so ladylike as I wipe under my nose and consider using the damn shirt as a tissue. A small laugh leaves me at the thought, but then without warning, I sob. Crying into the shirt with fresh hot tears.
“Oh my fucking God what is wrong with me,” I murmur in between wiping at my face with the shirt. Feel it and let it go.
Even as I tell myself to let go of the emotions, I don’t want to let go of the shirt. I don’t know that I’m ready. I don’t think I’m ready.
Focusing on my breathing, I quickly text, Kam I don’t think I’m ready to throw anything away.
That’s okay, that’s totally fine.
My fingers fly across the keys.I mean the houses too. I don’t want anyone to touch them.
Even as I send them, I know it’s unreasonable. I know it is. I just want to stay still for a moment. I’m just not ready for it to change.
I text him again adding, Please, but I can’t explain why.
I spend too long staring down at the rumpled trash bag and wrinkled-up shirt, with my hands trembling. It’s not until Kam tells me no one will touch anything and that he’ll make sure of it that I’m able to consider pulling myself together.
Shame creeps up my spine at how easy it was for me to fall apart.
I couldn’t clear out a dresser of clothes.
“Ella.” Zander’s voice carries through from the cracked bedroom door. It creaks open; he doesn’t wait for me to answer.
I’m sure I’m a sight to behold. There’s no doubt my mascara has run, my cheeks are tearstained and I’m sure my nose is red. Taking in a steadying breath, I slowly rise to my feet, not bothering to hide anything at all.
“Ella,” he repeats, saying my name with a gentleness, a comfort that’s unexpected. I suck in a deep breath, meant to make it all right, but instead my expression crumples and my throat goes tight. He’s quick to wrap his arms around me, bringing me back down to the ground, nestled in his lap as I cling to his shirt. I fist his cotton T-shirt, burying my head in his chest.
One deep breath after the other as he shushes me, rubbing soothing circles on my back and rocking me slightly. Back and forth as the waves of chaotic grieving dim.
With my eyes closed, I breathe Zander in, his unique scent. It’s masculine but clean. Like fresh open water.
“I thought I was doing good,” I whisper, opening my eyes to see the light shining off the silver frame. My gaze drops until Zander grips my chin between his thumb and forefinger, bringing my eyes up to his.
The world pauses. All my thoughts, all the sorrow just as much as the battering of the rain when he traps me with his emerald and amber eyes. He doesn’t see through me, he sees all of me. Every last piece and I can’t breathe.
“You did very well and I’m proud of you.” He’s the one to close his eyes and when his lips meet mine, I close mine too. His kiss is bruising, taking without remorse and consuming me in a way I’d forgotten I could feel.
The only way I can think to describe it is safe, cherished, wanted … I don’t know that any one word is enough. It feels like it’ll be okay. Maybe even that nothing else matters. As long as I just stay right here.
He lowers his head again and my eyes close, eager for him to do that again. To make it all go away. To make me his and nothing but that.
My lips mold to his until he nips my bottom lip. A gasp leaves me at the sudden hint of pain.
“Good girl,” he whispers against my lips and then kisses my forehead.
I hadn’t realized how tired I was until I rest my cheek on his chest.
“Did I interrupt you?” he questions.