Page 143 of Dear Future Husband

Trey was timid when I asked him to help me remove the gown. He softly undid the ties and made an extra effort not to touch my skin with his. As the gown slipped from my limbs, I noticed his eyes were deliberate in their focus to land on anything but my body.

When I was finally standing in only my underwear, I didn’t shiver against the chill of the room. I didn’t cower with embarrassment when his sad green eyes finally met mine. I mechanically followed the way he guided his hoodie over my head. Then let him pull the hood up to hide my face from the hospital staff.

I knew I scared Trey when I retreated from him. I knew I made him unsure of what to do or how to act. But I needed a moment. I needed time because I was struggling to differentiate between fiction and real-life. I remembered jumping from the vehicle when that semi-truck crashed into us.

But I could also remember many moments after that.

Blissful, perfect, precious moments I didn’t have the right words to explain.

Then I was awake. I was here.

My mind felt like a mess, my body ached, my skin burned where it had been viciously gripped, and my heart felt hollow.

Honestly, I think my heart was just unsure it had the strength to feel, the courage to let everything in all at once. I needed time and what helped me not feel guilty for taking that time was that I knew Trey wanted me to take it. It was obvious in the way he was cautious with me, gentle in the way he spoke. He was gifting me the space and ability to choose without pushing his needs on me.

“Follow me, May.”

He beckoned me forward, out to the parking lot and through the front doors. He didn’t lead me to the Jeepthough. It was Chelsea’s car I recognized in the parking lot.

“Where’s your—” I started, then remembered the keys I was trusted with and the chaos that later ensued.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I mumbled.

Trey’s smile was soft, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I’ll get new keys soon.”

I hopped into the passenger seat of Chelsea’s car, and Trey buckled my belt for me. I still hadn’t put down the journal I had clutched in my hands, and I think he wanted to make sure I didn’t have to.

This journal acted as my life raft, my anchor in the storm of my childhood. Now it felt like it was the one thing keeping me afloat. Like if I let go, I would sink and drown under all the feelings and memories.

I was desperately trying to allow them in as a steady trickle and not the tirade of chaos it had the capacity of being.

The drive to San Francisco was long and it was silent. Even at pit stops, we didn’t talk, but the silence was the same as it always was with him. It was safe.

I was safe.

I woke up from my short sleep in the early evening. I even had the chance to watch the sun in its descent behind the horizon. When we finally reached my home, the California sun was still asleep, hiding behind the smoggy blanket of stars.

Trey didn’t have his keys Liam had gifted to him, but I remembered where we kept an extra key. Atop the red door frame, just below the black and white sign that read,Mason. A sign I finally understood. A sign that welcomed me home. A signal to all weary souls who lost their way that they finally made it back home.

When we opened the door, I had to bite back the emotion that ached in the back of my throat. My mother’s beautiful home was dirtied with neglect. Thehome she built for her children. A haven she created to help heal her babies from a lifetime of hurt.

The smell was still the same, though. Almost as strong as if mom had just lit a scented candle of citrus, cinnamon, and vanilla. Letting it burn away the scents of our past.

I cautiously stepped into the house with Trey right there with me.

“I want to clean it,” I whispered as I turned to him. “Will you help me?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Of course.”

We didn’t sleep that night or that day. We didn’t speak either. We cleaned and cleaned and cleaned.

Trey started out on the opposite side of the house, keeping his distance as he tidied. I kept to my area, mentally working through the last couple days with myself. I let that trickle of feelings flood through me.

I had to keep reminding myself that I was safe. That no monsters could come crawling from the dark corners of the world. My demons were gone. I defeated them.

I fought in the battle, and I won.

The memory of vengeful hands ceased plaguing me. Instead, I held onto the one thought I had when I jumped from the car. The same thought I had as I took Liam’s hand, teetering on the edge of one life and the next.