Hooked by Love
Page 69
“Exactly, but the excuse was he forgot mine ’cause he didn’t know what was going on, but it’s whatever. And then she brought you up but didn’t even want to know anything about you. It’s just annoying.”
Tightening my hold on her, I kiss the side of her mouth. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s whatever,” she says again, but I can tell it hurt her feelings. I don’t blame her. I would be upset too, and shame on them for making her feel like that.
“Maybe you shouldn’t go to New Jersey.”
She looks up, moving her fingers along the hair that’s hanging in my eyes. “Yeah, I considered that, but I have a doctor’s appointment I have to go to.”
“For?”
She pauses, her fingers twirling my hair, and I wait. Briefly meeting my gaze, she looks away quickly, and I know she is holding back again. I want to shake her, tell her I’m here to listen, but she is silent as she plays with my hair. “Avery?” I ask and she shrugs.
“Just doctor stuff, nothing to worry about.”
That makes my eye twitch, and I take ahold of her hand, capturing her gaze. “What for? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she insists. “It’s just my therapist. She wants to see me one last time before I transfer down here.”
Therapist? Okay.
“Okay,” I say slowly, waiting for her to go on. But it appears she isn’t going to. “Why do you go to a therapist?”
Swallowing hard, she looks up at me and shrugs. “For therapy.”
I try not to glare, but come on. Really? “No shit, Sherlock. For what?”
“Um, well, just stuff. I have issues.”
“Like?” Jesus, this is like pulling teeth!
“Why does it matter?” she asks before sitting up. “They don’t affect you. I’m fine.”
“But they affect you,” I say, sitting up, my eyes searching hers. “Why won’t you just tell me?”
“Because it’s nothing, really. It’s silly. I’m fine as long as I take my meds. I promise.”
What the hell?
“You’re on meds?”
Not looking at me, she shrugs. “Yeah.”
“Okay, and what happens if you don’t take them?”
“Then I’m not okay,” she says, frustration lacing her tone. “But, let’s forget this, okay? You need to rest. You have a game tomorrow.”
“I don’t care,” I say sternly. “I want to know what is going on. What do you mean, you’re not fine if you don’t take your meds? What happens?”
“Nothing, Jace. Please, let’s rest.”
“What, do you cut yourself?” I blurt out. And really, I did that? I mean, come on. Why the ever-loving fuck did I do it like that?
She still holds my gaze, but her mouth parts and I don’t miss the way her hands cover the inside of her thighs as her breathing picks up. Her eyes look as if they can’t believe I said that, and I can’t believe I did either. I’m sure I could have gone a different route, but we are here, and it’s time to discuss this. I never pussyfoot around anything, and I won’t do it any longer. If she wants to be with me, then she is going to be with me. All of her.
But the silence stretches between us as we keep staring at each other, neither us moving. I’m not even sure I’m breathing as I wait for her to say something. Swallowing hard, I continue to wait. Surely, she is going to say something, but yet she doesn’t. She’s just staring at me, her eyes wide. And I don’t understand.
Finally, she gasps, “What?”
“I saw the marks on your thighs,” I admit and she looks away, drawing in a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking about them all day, about you. And I’m not a hundred percent sure, but I think you did them to yourself. If I’m wrong, please correct me. But tell me something, Avery. Please. I’m worried.”
She brings her lips between her teeth, and I watch as she draws in a breath through her nose and lets it back out. Red splotches start to appear on her neck, her breasts, and even her cheeks as time passes. I swear, it’s so quiet, I can hear the traffic outside, but I wait. I give her time, and hopefully, she sees that I’m here for her. That I want to support her.
She swallows hard, a tear rolling down her cheek and off her jaw before she looks up, her watery gaze meeting mine. “Yeah. I did.”
Did. Okay.
Reaching out, I go to take her hands, but she doesn’t move them. Doesn’t lace her fingers with mine like she usually does. She’s frozen, the only thing moving the tears rolling down her face.
“I didn’t want to make you cry,” I whisper, still trying to hold her hands, but she isn’t letting me.
“And I never wanted you to see them,” she says as she sniffles. Since she won’t let me hold her hands, I reach out, wiping away each tear that feels like a knife in my heart. “But I guess you would sooner rather than later.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
She gives me a deadpan look. “How do you tell someone you used to cut yourself to feel alive? How does that make sense, you know?”
My heart is pounding, the hair on my arms standing at attention as my heart breaks for this girl.
“I go to therapy for it, for my depression and my anxiety. Yeah, I’m pretty fucked up.”
Whoa. Okay. This is okay. “No, you’re not.”
“No, I am, and you want out. I see it in your eyes. I’ll go.” When she tries to move, I take ahold of her, stopping her. There is no way in hell she is leaving this room thinking that nonsense.
“Um, no, you’re seeing the wrong thing. I’m concerned, Avery—I don’t want out. Stop. Breathe,” I say because she’s starting to shake. “Just breathe.”
She tries to move out of my arms, but I bear-hug her, holding her in place as she fights. But she doesn’t last long before she starts to sob in my arms. I don’t know what to do, what to say, so I just hold her as she cries. Soon, she relaxes against me, her face in my neck as she sucks in breaths and lets them out.
“I just don’t want to seem weak in front of you, and that’s why I didn’t want to tell you.”
“You’re not weak, Avery.”
“Yes, I am.” She pulls back to look at me. Her face is completely red, snot is escaping her nose, and her bottom lip is trembling. She looks downright pitiful and it’s killing me.
Tightening my hold on her, I kiss the side of her mouth. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s whatever,” she says again, but I can tell it hurt her feelings. I don’t blame her. I would be upset too, and shame on them for making her feel like that.
“Maybe you shouldn’t go to New Jersey.”
She looks up, moving her fingers along the hair that’s hanging in my eyes. “Yeah, I considered that, but I have a doctor’s appointment I have to go to.”
“For?”
She pauses, her fingers twirling my hair, and I wait. Briefly meeting my gaze, she looks away quickly, and I know she is holding back again. I want to shake her, tell her I’m here to listen, but she is silent as she plays with my hair. “Avery?” I ask and she shrugs.
“Just doctor stuff, nothing to worry about.”
That makes my eye twitch, and I take ahold of her hand, capturing her gaze. “What for? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she insists. “It’s just my therapist. She wants to see me one last time before I transfer down here.”
Therapist? Okay.
“Okay,” I say slowly, waiting for her to go on. But it appears she isn’t going to. “Why do you go to a therapist?”
Swallowing hard, she looks up at me and shrugs. “For therapy.”
I try not to glare, but come on. Really? “No shit, Sherlock. For what?”
“Um, well, just stuff. I have issues.”
“Like?” Jesus, this is like pulling teeth!
“Why does it matter?” she asks before sitting up. “They don’t affect you. I’m fine.”
“But they affect you,” I say, sitting up, my eyes searching hers. “Why won’t you just tell me?”
“Because it’s nothing, really. It’s silly. I’m fine as long as I take my meds. I promise.”
What the hell?
“You’re on meds?”
Not looking at me, she shrugs. “Yeah.”
“Okay, and what happens if you don’t take them?”
“Then I’m not okay,” she says, frustration lacing her tone. “But, let’s forget this, okay? You need to rest. You have a game tomorrow.”
“I don’t care,” I say sternly. “I want to know what is going on. What do you mean, you’re not fine if you don’t take your meds? What happens?”
“Nothing, Jace. Please, let’s rest.”
“What, do you cut yourself?” I blurt out. And really, I did that? I mean, come on. Why the ever-loving fuck did I do it like that?
She still holds my gaze, but her mouth parts and I don’t miss the way her hands cover the inside of her thighs as her breathing picks up. Her eyes look as if they can’t believe I said that, and I can’t believe I did either. I’m sure I could have gone a different route, but we are here, and it’s time to discuss this. I never pussyfoot around anything, and I won’t do it any longer. If she wants to be with me, then she is going to be with me. All of her.
But the silence stretches between us as we keep staring at each other, neither us moving. I’m not even sure I’m breathing as I wait for her to say something. Swallowing hard, I continue to wait. Surely, she is going to say something, but yet she doesn’t. She’s just staring at me, her eyes wide. And I don’t understand.
Finally, she gasps, “What?”
“I saw the marks on your thighs,” I admit and she looks away, drawing in a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking about them all day, about you. And I’m not a hundred percent sure, but I think you did them to yourself. If I’m wrong, please correct me. But tell me something, Avery. Please. I’m worried.”
She brings her lips between her teeth, and I watch as she draws in a breath through her nose and lets it back out. Red splotches start to appear on her neck, her breasts, and even her cheeks as time passes. I swear, it’s so quiet, I can hear the traffic outside, but I wait. I give her time, and hopefully, she sees that I’m here for her. That I want to support her.
She swallows hard, a tear rolling down her cheek and off her jaw before she looks up, her watery gaze meeting mine. “Yeah. I did.”
Did. Okay.
Reaching out, I go to take her hands, but she doesn’t move them. Doesn’t lace her fingers with mine like she usually does. She’s frozen, the only thing moving the tears rolling down her face.
“I didn’t want to make you cry,” I whisper, still trying to hold her hands, but she isn’t letting me.
“And I never wanted you to see them,” she says as she sniffles. Since she won’t let me hold her hands, I reach out, wiping away each tear that feels like a knife in my heart. “But I guess you would sooner rather than later.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
She gives me a deadpan look. “How do you tell someone you used to cut yourself to feel alive? How does that make sense, you know?”
My heart is pounding, the hair on my arms standing at attention as my heart breaks for this girl.
“I go to therapy for it, for my depression and my anxiety. Yeah, I’m pretty fucked up.”
Whoa. Okay. This is okay. “No, you’re not.”
“No, I am, and you want out. I see it in your eyes. I’ll go.” When she tries to move, I take ahold of her, stopping her. There is no way in hell she is leaving this room thinking that nonsense.
“Um, no, you’re seeing the wrong thing. I’m concerned, Avery—I don’t want out. Stop. Breathe,” I say because she’s starting to shake. “Just breathe.”
She tries to move out of my arms, but I bear-hug her, holding her in place as she fights. But she doesn’t last long before she starts to sob in my arms. I don’t know what to do, what to say, so I just hold her as she cries. Soon, she relaxes against me, her face in my neck as she sucks in breaths and lets them out.
“I just don’t want to seem weak in front of you, and that’s why I didn’t want to tell you.”
“You’re not weak, Avery.”
“Yes, I am.” She pulls back to look at me. Her face is completely red, snot is escaping her nose, and her bottom lip is trembling. She looks downright pitiful and it’s killing me.
