Page 39 of When We Were More (Aron Falls #1)

H enry

When I got over the initial shock of what happened last night, it hit me that I actually let Matilda leave, hurt and crying, in the middle of an asthma attack. God, I’m an idiot. But she was skittish, and this feelings stuff is new to me.

She likely thinks I was messing around with Kira while she waited downstairs for me.

I’m aware it looked bad. Really horrible.

I saw Kira running her hand down her dress while she walked away from me.

I didn’t realize why she was doing it until I saw Matilda standing there, hurt written all over her face.

The more I thought about it all after it happened, the more anxious I grew—panicked, almost. I was ready to tear out of my mom’s house like a bat out of hell to find Tillie.

Hell, I was practically feral at that point, but my brothers took turns babysitting me to prevent me from leaving.

They fed me some bullshit about needing to give her space.

I shouldn’t have fucking listened because they don’t know Matilda like I do.

They don’t know what she’s been through with that dickhead ex-husband of hers, and that her thoughts are likely spiraling unnecessarily.

I tried several times to reach her, but, other than the text telling me she was fine, she didn’t answer any of my calls or texts. I’m not surprised, but I hate that I haven’t been able to talk to her yet.

When I woke up at Mom’s at five o’clock this morning, with the girls safe and sound in their bedroom she has for them, I went to the kitchen and made a pot of coffee. A few minutes later, Mom came down and agreed to watch the girls so I could come talk with Matilda.

I glance down at the time on my phone, and it’s eight fifteen a.m. My anger rises, only rivaled by how worried I am.

I’ve been sitting here in my truck, at Matilda’s house, since six a.m. She wasn’t home when I got here, and there are no fresh tire tracks in the snow.

She never came home. I’ve been waiting here for hours, and she’s not answering her phone.

Eight twenty-seven. That’s when she finally pulls into her driveway, and half of the weight that’s been sitting on my chest lifts. The other half is still there, fueled by how upset I am with her and fear about where she spent the night.

I watch as she gets out of her car, climbs the porch steps, and is getting ready to unlock the house. All without even a glance in my direction. I hop out of the truck.

“You’re really going to pretend I’m not here? I’ve spent the last two hours calling every ER in three counties, making sure you weren’t hurt, and I don’t even deserve a basic acknowledgement?”

Her shoulders sag, but she doesn’t turn around to face me.

“What do you want, Henry?” I expected her to sound angry or bitchy, but all I hear is tiredness. The type of fatigue you get when you’re tapped out, drained.

“What I want is to rewind to last night and get a chance to tell you that nothing fucking happened. I want you to have given me the benefit of the doubt, and for you to have heard me out. Not to fucking run from me.”

“I wasn’t running, I needed time to think!” She practically growls the words at me. Now the house is unlocked, and she crosses the threshold. Since she didn’t slam the door on me, I follow.

“You were running. You got scared, and you ran. But my question is, where did you run to? You’ve been gone all damn night.”

“None of your business. Don’t concern yourself with me anymore.”

“What the hell does that mean, Matilda?” She doesn’t answer.

She’s removed her coat and kicks her heels off. Her hair’s a mess, and I have a deep-seated fear that it’s not regular bedhead. God, the woman makes me insane. She acts like we’re not in the middle of an argument and continues about her tasks. When she heads upstairs, I trail behind her.

“It’s my business if you were with another man, Matilda. We have rules for this arrangement, remember?”

I cringe at how childish and bitter I sound. But she’s not giving me anything to ease this sensation that my heart is going to beat right out of my chest.

“Oh, yeah? Well, I figured all the rules went out the window after last evening. My bad.”

She’s being infuriatingly blasé. Like it means nothing. We’re in her room now, and she’s about to slip her dress off, as if I’m not even there.

“Stop being dismissive! I didn’t break any rules!” I don’t mean to raise my voice, and I hate that she flinches. Regret instantly overcomes me. “Shit. I’m sorry.” I back away and take a seat on the chair next to her bed, dropping my head into my hands.

“What do you want from me, Henry?” It comes out as a whisper, and when I lift my eyes to search her face, vulnerability and fear slip past the mask she tries to wear.

Every part of me aches to tell her that I want it all.

I want her love, her hopes, her future, her pain, her pleasure, and her fears.

I want all things her. Every ounce of her that she’ll give me.

That’s what I want to say. It’s what I wanted to talk to her about after putting the girls to sleep last night, but that went to hell in a handbasket.

I know without a doubt if I tell her all of that at this moment, I’ll lose her.

I can see it on her face. She’s shaken by everything that happened in the last twelve hours.

“I want you to let me tell you that I was upstairs so long because I fell asleep next to Layla after she asked me to lie with her for a few minutes. To let me explain, that’s why my shirt was unbuttoned and my tie loosened. It’s why I had major bedhead.”

I pause as tears roll down Matilda’s face. I long to go to her and comfort her. She’s not ready for that, though.

“I want you to believe me when I tell you that Kira was waiting for me when I came out of the room. That she asked me for a reference for a plumber, then after I gave her one, she said inappropriate shit. She walked away before I could tell her to back off, that I wasn’t interested.”

Matilda’s tears are flowing steadily now. I stand and take a step toward her. When she doesn’t try to stop me, I slowly close the distance between us.

“I want you to believe that I value our friendship—I value you—and I wouldn’t break our rules. I don’t want to break our rules.”

Her breath catches.

“I can’t… I can’t give you m-more. I told you I couldn’t b-before this ever started. And I hate how I felt last night. This shouldn’t feel like that, and I don’t know how to stop it.”

I lift my hands to her face and wipe her tears with the pads of my thumbs. How she doesn’t realize that she was already giving me more, I’m not sure. But now isn’t the time to challenge her about it.

“I’m not asking you to give anything more than what you already are. This is enough. I want this right here—what we’re already doing.”

It suddenly occurs to me that maybe she doesn’t want it. Fuck that will hurt. But I need to ask.

“Do you still want this?” The words are tentative, hushed.

She looks at me for what seems like forever, but is probably only seconds, and then whispers, “I don’t want to want it, but I do. Yes.”

I pull her to me and kiss the top of her head. It scares the hell out of me to think about how strongly I feel for her now that I’m admitting it to myself. But Harrison is right. There’s nothing I can do about it. It’s there. We stand there in silence for a few moments, her allowing me to hold her.

“I’m only crying because I’m so tired. Okay?”

I chuckle. “I know. How about we take a quick shower and climb into bed for a few hours?”

“Okay.” She sniffles and lets me lead her to the bathroom. I turn the shower on and finish undressing her as tears continue to trickle down her cheeks.

“Is it okay if I join you? No funny business, I promise.”

She nods and steps into the shower. Her head dips under the water, and she closes her eyes.

I slip in behind her. I reach for her shampoo and spend the next few minutes washing and conditioning her hair.

Neither of us says anything, but it doesn’t escape me that this is intensely intimate.

As a matter of fact, it’s the most intimate thing I’ve ever experienced with a woman.

After showering, we towel off, and Matilda towel-dries her hair, then combs it through. Minutes later, we’re lying in bed, no clothes between us, with her as the little spoon. As her breathing becomes more rhythmic, I think she’s drifted off until she speaks.

“Henry?”

“Mm hmm?”

“I slept at Lester’s last night.”

The last bit of pressure lifts off my chest.

“Thank you for telling me.”

I kiss the top of her head, and sometime over the next few minutes, we both fall asleep.