First Love, Take Two

Coming from Daniel, music took on a whole other meaning. It became an entity that sifted through the air and hummed into my skin. It wove a blanket around my soul and cushioned me from the darkness. When I couldn’t barricade myself from myself, his music managed to do the job.

My vision blurred behind tears.

He remembered. And more than that, he knew. He knew me well enough to know what I was fighting without my even having to say it. And he knew exactly what to do. His music was stronger than any drug.

Sometimes Daniel was the only thing I needed. And right now, that simple truth couldn’t be any clearer, any more apparent.

I slid down to the floor and brought my knees to my chest. My head touched the wall. My eyes drifted closed. And the music swam through me. It battled the darkness on my behalf, just enough for me to continue on, even if I had to crawl.

My breathing eased and so did my pulse.

Daniel must’ve played for some time, moving through several songs. Happy songs. Songs that held so many memories. Songs that we’d danced to, eaten dinner over, heard on the radio when we studied together. Songs that filled the silence around us when we cuddled up together on the couch or on a blanket beneath the stars. Songs that were everything to me.

He remembered them all.

I sighed, long and draining, as if my breath carried half of my burdens with it, and wiped my tears. They’d been flooding down my cheeks and dampening my shirt.

The music stopped. I opened my eyes and glanced at Daniel’s shadow beneath the door. He was still there.

Despite knowing better, my body knew what it needed. I reached up and grasped the doorknob. Part of me warned against this. One thing always led to another when it came to us. We weren’t snowflakes of innocent moments. We were snowstorms of powerful emotions.

I breathed faster, telling my hand to stop, but everything faded into white noise as I tamped down my thoughts.

And opened the door.

Daniel was sitting on the other side of the doorframe, his guitar off to his left, his knees to his chest, a hand on the carpet between us. He gave a soft, defeated smile, the kind that could calm a blizzard and melt snow. The kind that could calm me. He’d always done that. His mere presence had staved off so many anxiety attacks in the past.

I glanced at his fingertips, twitching as if they yearned to reach for me. “Your fingers are going to bleed.”

He moved into the room, sat with his back against the wall. “Come here.”

I crawled toward him and sat in between his legs, facing the window, my back to the apartment, my shoulder to his chest.

“Is this okay?” he asked, his voice gravelly, his arms wrapping around me. Such a warm, protective touch that warded off negative feelings. Sometimes I needed Daniel more than I needed air, and it had never been so devastatingly clear as it was right now.

I nodded.

He held me against him, my cheek against his chest. “Nothing in the world would have made me stop, if it helps you.”

“Thank you. But why would you care after the mess I created?”

“Are you joking right now?” he asked, his voice soft.

I shook my head.

He sighed and hit his head gently against the wall. “Because caring for you is as natural as it’s always been.”

“Oh.” My heart twisted in my chest, full of hope and regret.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Okay. I’m here when you do.”

As my emotions simmered down, the adrenaline wore off, the meds kicked in, and my eyelids grew heavy. Sleep was a no-nonsense stalker at my gates.

As soon as I yawned, Daniel shifted and I pulled away.

“Let’s get some rest?” he asked.

He stood. I took his hand as he pulled me up. He let go as soon as we realized how long our hold had lingered. He rubbed the back of his neck as his gaze flitted to his feet. What was better than his music to calm me? His embrace, undoubtedly.

“I should get some sleep,” I whispered.

“Yeah,” he replied but didn’t move, his focus on the small space between our bodies. “I should probably take the couch tonight and let you rest.”

I frowned, not wanting that at all.

“Pree?”

“Yeah?” I asked, hopeful that he’d sleep in the bed again.

“Are you…getting help for this? I know in the past it was new and scary, and you’d told me about the stigma among doctors and in your community and family, but I’m really worried.”

“I have an appointment for it coming up tomorrow, actually.” I offered a small smile. “Thank you for caring.”

“We might not be in the best place with each other, but for things like this…I’m right here if you need me,” he said, his gaze intent on me. His fingers twitched. So did mine. I wondered if he wanted to hug me as much as I needed him to.

I took a step back and slowly closed the door after he walked out. Behind me, the bed was cold and empty, much like how my mind would be any given minute. I went to bed and lay down. Yep. The sheets were like ice, but my body raged hot. I tossed and turned and tried every position, then groaned. Loudly. I just wanted to scream. I even clenched my eyes and gritted my teeth, clutched a pillow over my face and almost…almost let it all go.

Daniel knocked on the door. “Are you sure that you’re all right?”

I shoved the pillow aside and gasped for air. Had he heard any of that? Had I actually screamed? “Yep.”

No.

I shot out of bed and reached for the door just as he pushed it open.

“I know you’re not okay,” he said. “Why are you lying to me?”

My lips quivered and I tried to blink back tears. I might’ve won the fight against my emotions if he hadn’t taken me into his arms. He pulled me against the warmth of his chest. His broad arms wrapped snugly, perfectly around me. Not too tight, not too loose.

I clutched the back of his shirt as soon as the shock of his touch wore off. I held on to him like I might die otherwise. Then the sobs came, muffled against him. My tears would ruin his shirt.

Daniel didn’t care. He held me quietly and caressed my back. Sometimes all a person needed was for another person to just be there. No words. No explanations. Just silence. And tears. And hugs.

I inhaled a deep breath filled with Daniel’s scent as the sobbing eased. I rubbed my tears against his shirt as I pulled away and wiped the rest of my face. I must’ve looked a complete mess.

His hands were still around me, one on my hip and one low on my back, when I asked, “Um. Do you mind…I mean…is it awkward if…?”

“Do you want me to sleep in here tonight?” he asked.

I nodded.

“Of course.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled as he closed the door and got into bed.

The bed wasn’t eerily chilly anymore. It was warm and glowing and full of hope. But also awkward. We both lay flat on our backs on opposite sides. There was enough space in between us for another person. I was so close to the edge that I would fall off with any minor movement.

I scooted closer to him.

He inched closer to me.

Until finally, I surrendered to the awkwardness and rolled toward him.

Sometimes Daniel read my mind. He stretched his arm over my head. “Come here.”

I lifted my head as his arm slid down my neck and wrapped around my shoulders. I nestled against him, curled into his side as he held me.

I tried not to enjoy this.

I tried to remember that, until a couple of days ago, I was getting engaged to another man and that I could not still be in love with Daniel Thompson.

I tried not to relax and melt against him.

But the moment I snuggled into Daniel, I was done. Because instead of abhorring his touch, I craved more of it. Daniel instantly eradicated so many anxieties swarming in my head. There was no such thing as feeling scared when he held me.

As much as the better part of my brain told me to not even think it, I already knew.

I really missed this. I really missed him.