Page 41 of Erik

“I guess we’ll never know. He broke up with me before I got shipped back via e-mail, and I’m not gonna go crawling and beg him to take me back. I mean, yes, I applied for this position partly for him, but I’m not gonna tell him that. He’s not even back in this country for another few days, so I wonder what he’ll do when he realizes I cleaned out our apartment and our bank account.” My brows rose high at that, and a round of laughter floated up as Kayla’s lips cracked in a smirk. “Yeah, whatever. I’m petty, I know.”

“What’d you do with all the stuff?” Kayla’s smirk turned slimy, a little self-righteous, and not at all guilty, as she picked up her fork and twirled it between her fingers.

“I sold it on Craigslist for pennies. Literally, nothing was more than a dollar. At least I made a lot of dollars.” My lips twitched at that, and the conversation fizzled out as greedy hands reached for food dishes. The smell of a roast dinner was lost to me as Erik rubbed the back of my hand with his thumb, and I rocked to rest my cheek on his shoulder. He tensed, not expecting the contact, and I closed my eyes when he pressed his lips to my crown and squeezed my palm.

“Speaking of engaged, Lilly asked me to look up something on her phone, and she had a page of engagement rings open. You think that’s a hint?” The conversation swirled around me, and I closed my eyes as I let it drone into garble as I savored Erik’s heat against my face. Erik’s littlest brother, Miles maybe, has posed the question, but I didn’t pay attention to the aftermath as warm breath rolled down my scalp.

“All of this is good cold. Do you want to go lay down?” Erik’s mumble caressed my ears, and I nodded before lifted my head. A twinge of guilt struck my chest, Carol had made this for me, and I couldn’t find my appetite anywhere. But, at least, everyone else was having a good time, and Erik and I left the dining room to head through the living room and up the stairs.

“Do you wish we could have sex?” The question tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop it, and Erik stiffened as he paused mid-step on the stairs. Twisting to scan me through narrowed eyes, he leaned on the wall to rub his jaw with his free hand as the other flexed against my palm.

“I’ve never considered it. There’s three things you learn in the military, especially the Navy— how to drink, how to smoke a pack a day, and how to manage blue balls. So, I guess I wouldn’t say Iwish. . . but if you were at a place you felt you could, I would agree.” That was a lot more analytical a reply than I expected, and Erik frowned under tightly knit brows. “What?”

“Maybe . . . maybe we could j-just . . . lay down . . . t-together . . . ” Trailing off when his brows rose in surprise, my face threatened to melt right off my skull, and I shook my head viciously. “Never mind, it was s—"

“I can lay down with you if that’s what you want, Natasha.” My whole body was on fire fueled my embarrassment and an almost innocent sense of happiness, and Erik smiled tenderly. Starting up the stairs once again, he was quiet even as I thrummed with pleasant feelings that I had never felt before. It was overwhelming, this sensation, this excitement, this throbbing in my chest that wasn’t unduly heavy or painful.

The guest room Erik took me to was plainly decorated, and nerves tightened my gut as I shuffled to sit on the edge of the bed. He sat opposite me across the vast expanse of a blue quilt, facing away from me, and I inhaled a rattling breath. Closing my eyes, I worked to stabilize the furious emotions bouncing around in my chest.

I didn’t kick off my shoes. I didn’t take off my pants or my shirt. I sort of flopped sideways, pulled up my knees, and wiggled so I wasn’t falling off the side of the bed. Goosebumps washed my down my back and across my chest, and tension gripped my spine in a vice as Erik laid on his back. His jeans rustled overly loud when he crossed his ankles, and the bed dipped when he propped his arms under his head to heave a sigh.

But, when I blinked, I didn’t remember those horrible times, staring at the wall, shivering, afraid, shameful.

42

Erik

My eyelid twitched as Natasha cried out in her sleep, and I clenched my fists tightly when her hand flung out to collide with my chest. I don’t knowwhyin the fuck I thought the nightmares had dissipated, but bitterness soured my tongue as it stuck to the roof of my mouth. For the first time, I realized that Natasha must’ve turned that stupid fucking bug off permanently so I wouldn’t hear her nightmares anymore.

The one time I had, I’d showed up at her door, and she was clearly spooked about it, in hindsight.

Inhaling a hot, deeper than deep breath, I glared at the ceiling, but my thoughts were interrupted by the slight creak of the door. My mom poked her head in, and I cleared my throat roughly before lifting my own to watch her slip into the room. By my side, Natasha panted harshly, rubbed her knees together, and I held my breath as a fire engulfed my heart.

There was nothing to say, and my mom touched my bicep comfortingly before Natasha suddenly jerked up. Her knee collided with her forehead, and the hairs on my body stood up from her shriek as she tumbled over the side of the bed. The hard thump of her hitting the floor rattled the whole house, and I crawled to the opposite side of the king mattress to hang over the side.

“Fuck! Fuck!” Covering her forehead with both palms, Natasha panted furiously, and I sat up on my knees as she rolled around in pain. “Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me!”

Rasping the whisper over and over again, Natasha only paused when her face touched the hardwood, her muscles quivering too hard to sustain any sort of tension. Her eyelids popped open, and she felt around her for a second before realization marred her pretty face with an ugly sneer. Sinking against the floor, the self-hatred seething all over her features, seeping out of her pores, she inhaled a sharp whistle of a breath before sitting up abruptly.

“You okay?”

“Shut up. Don’t touch me.” The detached tone laced with shame, but, I mean, progress was progress, even if it sucked. I could see the revival in her eyes, the spark returning to those big, brown orbs as she slowly came back, and I gripped the edge of the mattress hard. “Shit. It happened again.”

“Yeah. You nodded off. Took about T minutes before—” Slender brows rose in surprise at my admission, and I smiled grimly because I didn’t have a proper answer. “Your face alright?”

“You know, Erik, I don’t think I’ve ever said it.” The gravity in her tone bristled the hairs on the back of my neck, and Natasha inhaled a shallow, shuddering breath as she pulled her knees to her chin. Sliding down to sit next to her, I held my palm up on my leg but didn’t push her, and her face paled a few noticeably shades. “That’s what they say, right? The first step is admitting you have a problem.”

“That’s what they say, yeah.” My mom was still in the room, forgotten, ignored, if Natasha realized she was there at all. I nodded heavily. “You know your problems pretty well, I think.”

“I’ve never said it out loud.” Tilting her head, Natasha gazed at me under heavy, reddening lids, and I clenched my jaw and held my breath as anticipation swarmed my insides. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out, and I pursed my lips thinly as she gulped harshly. “I . . . I . . . ”

My heart thundered against my ribs, but the blood didn’t drum in my ears to dilute Natasha’s voice. Licking her lips heavily, she exhaled a shivering breath, and she stretched her legs to rub her chest with stiff fingers.

“I w-was . . . I was raped.” The confession rolled sluggishly off her tongue, almost transformed into a different word, but Natasha shuddered violently regardless. Ducking her head to hide behind her hair, she sniffled hard, and my lungs screamed for air even thought my brain ignored it. “I was raped.”

Those three, little words were so powerful that the air rippled in the room, and my heart ached for Natasha as she clenched her hands tightly in her lap. Her little sobs were so different than any other tears she’d shed before, and the muscles in my arms started to cramp from the urge to take her hand, to comfort her in some way. She cried that tiny cry, that uncontrollable ugly cry, that cry that little kids did because they couldn’t process what they were feeling.

She didn’t cry like an adult, with some sense, even subconsciously, of restraint. She crumpled under the weight of her admission and didn’t try to fight back. Lowering herself to the floor, Natasha laid her head on my thigh and covered her face with my palm. It was the first time, ever, that she made me touch her in any way, and my lips tilted up in a ghost of a smile.

Progress was progress, even if it sucked.