Page 20 of Unexpectedly You

I couldn’t stay still in bed, especially when I couldn’t hear any sounds or movement coming from the other room. I spent more time in and out of bed than actually sleeping.

Every time I reached his room, I promised myself I’d just check from far away, only to move in closer and closer, until I was so close to the bed I could watch Jay’s chest rise and fall. Only seeing that had the power to calm my fear… while I was in the room. Once I left, I was back to square one, pacing my room until I walked back to check on him again.

Kai—neighbour, doctor, and noisy individual—gave me clear instructions. I had to check on him every couple of hours, not every five minutes.

Fear is a fucking beast to tame.

I was ashamed of myself this morning and tired as hell. I’m glad no one was there to witness my behaviour. Especially Jay. He doesn’t need to know I spent the night in and out of his room, afraid he would die. Him not knowing means I can pretend to ignore what I did last night.

Sleep was a foreign word last night, and not only because of Jay. Arianna was on my mind, and my pleading with the Lord to take everything away and give Halia back to me. I thought of my parents, the horrible memories and my desire for things to be different, as well as the responsibilities coming my way, and my inability to refuse. Everything felt, and feels even today, like too much.

My grumpiness this morning was at an all time high.

This morning the noises coming from the second room settled something inside me, and pushed me to check on him once more. I watched Jay without being seen, admiring how cute he was wearing my PJs.

I liked it a little too much seeing him wearing my clothes.

The hot rage burned inside my body, just like last night, at seeing the damage that fucker inflicted on him, one of his eyes barely open and his neck bearing the signs of that bastard’s hand. Visions of that man violently thrusting inside his mouth had filled my mind making it impossible to act calm and collected.

What scared me the most, though, was my instinct pushing me to take him in my arms and protect him from everyone and everything, telling me to care for him, and only my willpower kept me near the door.

After telling him where I put his clothes and that breakfast was nearly ready, I left him in the room and went back to make breakfast. That gave me time to calm myself.

I never cook breakfast for myself, I live on coffees and takeaways, but this morning I did, because I needed to take care of him.

These fragile vibes he has around him make me incredibly aware of any sounds and shuffles he produces while moving.

I don’t want to care for anyone, because caring means dependency. And dependency means pain when they turn their back on you. Not getting involved is the best thing I can do for myself.

Then you shouldn’t have brought him home.I can’t argue with my brain… I shouldn’t have, and yet…

Another thing I shouldn’t do is touch him, but even this morning when he struggled on his feet, swaying from one side to the other like a leaf taken by the wind, I offered my forearm so I could help him sit.

Fuck if his touch didn’t mess me up. His strong grip to fight the pain and his short nails marking my body are embedded in my skin.

We shared names, and then I went back to being my friendly self by ordering him around. Sit, eat, don’t play with your food.

He never complained, not once. Instead, he followed every order.

Watching him trying to scoff his food made me wonder if he ever eats. With how skinny he is, I believe his meals are few and far between. When he whimpered in pain, I was out of my seat in seconds and back as fast with some ice cream. His look of desperate gratitude made my lungs flutter as if full of butterflies.

Fucking butterflies. Me. Mr No Emotions.

Discussing last night was unavoidable, as were his questions.

“Did you help me last night?”

“Yeah, I was out there to answer a call when I saw what was happening.” I hate that his face goes all guilt-ridden and flushes red.

He tries to explain, but the more he does the antsier I get.

Confusion fills me, because he’s nothing to me. He’s just a stranger, and I shouldn’t be so invested, but instead, even mybrain betrays me. “I met Jeremy, and he’s the reason you’re here,” I say, trying to get away from the pitiful explanation that seems to make him feel even worse.

“I’ll get my stuff and clear out,” he says, and my mouth runs away from me before I can weigh my words.

“You can stay here for a couple of days. Until you’re better. But call your friend as he’s blowing up my phone, and it’s fucking annoying.”

“Yes.”