Craving Resurrection
Page 31
Amy deserved better than that. She deserved to be cosseted.
The past two weeks with her had shown me things that I hadn’t even realized I’d been missing.
She liked to do her hair in intricate styles, but she rarely wore them out of the house, preferring it down if she had to interact with people.
She was stubborn, believing that she was always right, but willing to give in to make others happy.
She laughed at commercials on the television that weren’t meant to be funny, and read romance novels and classics interchangeably. She seemed to enjoy both equally.
She loved the freckles on my face and chest, and if she didn’t think I was paying attention, she’d trace the ones on my arms.
She was a contradiction, both vulnerable and incredibly self-assured. She knew exactly who she was and didn’t hide from that knowledge, but she didn’t like the scrutiny of others.
She treated my mum like the Queen of England.
She treated me like a king… when she wasn’t giving me shit about almost everything I did and said.
We could talk for hours and never run out of things to say, but could rarely agree on anything.
She could completely ignore things that she didn’t want to face, and had skirted around any mention of her parents.
She challenged me and made my blood burn until I didn’t know which way was up.
God, that girl drove me insane.
It was as if everything that made her who she was pulled at the opposite trait in me, drawing us together like magnets. She made me forget some things and remember others, and her presence gave me a peace I hadn’t felt since I was a child. She calmed me in a way no one else had ever been able to do. She was simply…everything. Both my compass and true north.
I suddenly came to the shocked realization that I loved her more than anyone else in the world—myself included.
I’d been up most of the night trying to sort out how I’d protect her and Mum, my mind going over and over different plans and rejecting them while the phone rang sporadically. I’d felt like the walking dead by the time I’d escorted her to school. My body ached from the hours I’d spent on Mum’s living room floor and I’d been short-tempered, anxious over the prospect of leaving them alone, and it took all I had to hide that shit from her. She didn’t need to worry about things she couldn’t change, and I didn’t want her to. It was my job as her man to shield her from that shit.
So I’d painted on a cheerful face when she’d awoke and we’d almost made it to school without my façade cracking down the center. I could’ve kicked myself for getting into the situation in the alley, but to be fair, jealous Amy had been a sight to see. She’d been scowling, her face flushed, and I’d wanted nothing more than to take her home and fuck the jealousy right out of her, prove once and for all that she had nothing to worry about.
I couldn’t, though. She should wait. I knew that eventually, when our kids were old enough to ask, that she’d want to tell them with a clear conscience that we’d waited until we’d said our vows. She may be full of hormones and grand ideas now, but the minute it was over, she’d have regrets.
She was my ideal, the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen—and though I knew it was dangerous to put her on a pedestal, I couldn’t help it. She wasn’t a woman you fucked before you said your vows in front of a priest, no matter how angry that made her.
Amy didn’t want to wait and she thought I was an idiot for making her. I loved her, but she just kept pushing and pushing, and I’d finally had enough that morning. I was having a hard enough time keeping my fucking hands off her, and she wasn’t making it the least bit easy. I was tired, worried, and turned on with no relief in sight… and then she’d decided to push just a bit further.
Threatening me with other men? Was she out of her fucking mind? It may have been the worst idea she’d ever had. I’d seen red when she started going on about how she’d, what did she call it? Level the playing field?
She’d let someone touch her over my dead body and not a moment before.
My stomach was churning when I’d left Amy in that alley, but I didn’t even stop to look back at her. I couldn’t. If I had, I’d known that the look on her face would have me right back where I started—in her arms—and we’d be riding that fine line again, or I’d do something to scare her, like take her over my knee and thrash the hell out of her.
I hated hurting her, but if I was honest with myself, I’d admit that I was also livid about her threats and it felt good to leave her worried. How far did she think she could push before I pushed back? The tension in the house, both sexual and the fear of something terrible happening had us all on edge. I understood that she was feeling it, but that didn’t give her leave to spew venom all over me.
Honestly, I didn’t even know if Amy felt the oppressive weight of my mum’s fear. I hadn’t said a word about things happening with my da, and I doubted Mum had filled her in—she was too busy skittering around the house like she couldn’t find enough to do until she dropped into bed exhausted. It seemed as if Amy walked around with her head in the clouds, completely ignorant to what was happening around her. Did she not realize that I was fraying like a badly knit sweater? I tried to shield her, but I couldn’t understand how she missed the signs that something was looming on the horizon. Mum was acting like a maniac, Kevie was showing up unannounced at all hours, and I had bags under my eyes from lack of sleep—yet Amy moved blissfully along as if all was right in her world.
The past two weeks with her had shown me things that I hadn’t even realized I’d been missing.
She liked to do her hair in intricate styles, but she rarely wore them out of the house, preferring it down if she had to interact with people.
She was stubborn, believing that she was always right, but willing to give in to make others happy.
She laughed at commercials on the television that weren’t meant to be funny, and read romance novels and classics interchangeably. She seemed to enjoy both equally.
She loved the freckles on my face and chest, and if she didn’t think I was paying attention, she’d trace the ones on my arms.
She was a contradiction, both vulnerable and incredibly self-assured. She knew exactly who she was and didn’t hide from that knowledge, but she didn’t like the scrutiny of others.
She treated my mum like the Queen of England.
She treated me like a king… when she wasn’t giving me shit about almost everything I did and said.
We could talk for hours and never run out of things to say, but could rarely agree on anything.
She could completely ignore things that she didn’t want to face, and had skirted around any mention of her parents.
She challenged me and made my blood burn until I didn’t know which way was up.
God, that girl drove me insane.
It was as if everything that made her who she was pulled at the opposite trait in me, drawing us together like magnets. She made me forget some things and remember others, and her presence gave me a peace I hadn’t felt since I was a child. She calmed me in a way no one else had ever been able to do. She was simply…everything. Both my compass and true north.
I suddenly came to the shocked realization that I loved her more than anyone else in the world—myself included.
I’d been up most of the night trying to sort out how I’d protect her and Mum, my mind going over and over different plans and rejecting them while the phone rang sporadically. I’d felt like the walking dead by the time I’d escorted her to school. My body ached from the hours I’d spent on Mum’s living room floor and I’d been short-tempered, anxious over the prospect of leaving them alone, and it took all I had to hide that shit from her. She didn’t need to worry about things she couldn’t change, and I didn’t want her to. It was my job as her man to shield her from that shit.
So I’d painted on a cheerful face when she’d awoke and we’d almost made it to school without my façade cracking down the center. I could’ve kicked myself for getting into the situation in the alley, but to be fair, jealous Amy had been a sight to see. She’d been scowling, her face flushed, and I’d wanted nothing more than to take her home and fuck the jealousy right out of her, prove once and for all that she had nothing to worry about.
I couldn’t, though. She should wait. I knew that eventually, when our kids were old enough to ask, that she’d want to tell them with a clear conscience that we’d waited until we’d said our vows. She may be full of hormones and grand ideas now, but the minute it was over, she’d have regrets.
She was my ideal, the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen—and though I knew it was dangerous to put her on a pedestal, I couldn’t help it. She wasn’t a woman you fucked before you said your vows in front of a priest, no matter how angry that made her.
Amy didn’t want to wait and she thought I was an idiot for making her. I loved her, but she just kept pushing and pushing, and I’d finally had enough that morning. I was having a hard enough time keeping my fucking hands off her, and she wasn’t making it the least bit easy. I was tired, worried, and turned on with no relief in sight… and then she’d decided to push just a bit further.
Threatening me with other men? Was she out of her fucking mind? It may have been the worst idea she’d ever had. I’d seen red when she started going on about how she’d, what did she call it? Level the playing field?
She’d let someone touch her over my dead body and not a moment before.
My stomach was churning when I’d left Amy in that alley, but I didn’t even stop to look back at her. I couldn’t. If I had, I’d known that the look on her face would have me right back where I started—in her arms—and we’d be riding that fine line again, or I’d do something to scare her, like take her over my knee and thrash the hell out of her.
I hated hurting her, but if I was honest with myself, I’d admit that I was also livid about her threats and it felt good to leave her worried. How far did she think she could push before I pushed back? The tension in the house, both sexual and the fear of something terrible happening had us all on edge. I understood that she was feeling it, but that didn’t give her leave to spew venom all over me.
Honestly, I didn’t even know if Amy felt the oppressive weight of my mum’s fear. I hadn’t said a word about things happening with my da, and I doubted Mum had filled her in—she was too busy skittering around the house like she couldn’t find enough to do until she dropped into bed exhausted. It seemed as if Amy walked around with her head in the clouds, completely ignorant to what was happening around her. Did she not realize that I was fraying like a badly knit sweater? I tried to shield her, but I couldn’t understand how she missed the signs that something was looming on the horizon. Mum was acting like a maniac, Kevie was showing up unannounced at all hours, and I had bags under my eyes from lack of sleep—yet Amy moved blissfully along as if all was right in her world.
