Page 21 of The Other Side of Wild
There’s a tear running down her cheek; it takes everything in me not to brush it away. But I don’t out of fear she’ll stop completely. “I’m fine.” Clamming up, got it. I know this well.
Trying to curb my growing frustration, I pat my legs and stand up. “I got you something.” I’ve clearly surprised her; her eyebrows rise as her lips part slightly.
“You got me something?”
“Yeah, it’s only fair. You got me my new favorite bracelet; I needed to return the favor.” The brows that had been raised are now pulled tight; a lightning bolt-looking wrinkle pops out between them.
Before she has the chance to say anything, I grab the lighthouse off the shelf by the front door. Walking back to where she is, I sit down next to her and hold it up.
“A lighthouse?” She inspects the small figure in her hand, turning the light on and off as she turns it over.
“Yes.” I clear my throat. “I played for a team in Washington, The Cascades. I’m from Tampa; it’s always been my goal to come back here. Back when I was a freshly drafted player, I was naive, to say the least. I wanted everything that came with being a professional athlete.”
She cocks her head to the side, her gaze never leaving mine as I speak. The lighthouse rolls back and forth in her hands, fingers running absently across the smooth surface. “When I started dating Kara, she was nice, kind, and beautiful. The whole package, so it seemed. The longer we were together, the more she tried to dictate what I did, where I went, and who I could hang out with. It got to the point that she wastrying to control my every move.”
“Sounds like you dodged a bullet there, Dozer.”
“I did, but there’s a reason I got that for you.” This could effectively ruin any chance we have before I even knowifthere is a chance, but I refuse to start any sort of relationship on anything other than the truth. I’m too tired of that.
I take a deep breath before diving into the part of my life I try to keep under wraps. “In high school, my parents started to notice my mood swings; at first, they thought it was just hormones, but it wasn’t. I started to get unreasonably angry when I got overwhelmed. I’d lash out, then I’d be riddled with guilt so bad that I’d stop eating, and they’d have to physically drag me out of bed. It took us a while to figure out I was fighting depression. There’s a lighthouse by my parent's house that looks just like this one.”
Her eyes meet mine with nothing but compassion. She doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t look away. She just listens.
“What I didn’t realize in Washington was coming back to Tampa would be my lighthouse. When shit hit the fan at the end of that relationship, I was drowning. I didn’t know up from down. Coming home gave me clarity, peace, and a safe place to dock in the midst of the storm. I want to be that for you. I want to be your lighthouse, Han.”
She’s still for a second, and I think I may have broken her, but a second later, she’s in my arms. Her head buries itself in the crook of my neck as she takes some deep breaths. I feel my skin get wet, and I realize she’s crying. Mychest tightens, my heart hurting in places I didn’t even know were there.
“Oh shoot. I didn’t mean to make you cry.” I whisper, running my hand gently through her hair. “I’m sorry.”
She shakes her head, voice muffled against my neck. “No, these are happy tears.” Her breath is warm against my skin and the weight of her in my arms makes it seem like the world has slowed to a stop, like it’s just the two of us and nothing else matters.
Eventually, she pulls back, wiping at the tears sliding down her face. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes bloodshot, but her gaze holds mine as she looks into my soul. “This is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.” Her voice comes out shaky and uneven, “I know it seems silly, but I felt like I was drowning when you brought up my dad. Like I had been pulled under the water with no way to resurface, and this is the perfect reminder that I have a lifeline. You—you offered an ear and a judgment-free zone when we first met, and you have every day since. I really appreciate it.”
She places her hand on my forearm, and I put mine on top of hers, giving it a little squeeze. “Thank you for telling me that; I really appreciate your willingness to be vulnerable with me.” She looks down at where her hand is on my arm, as she chews on the inside of her cheek.
She looks up at me for a fraction of a second before her eyes find a spot on the floor. “I.. I grew up being told I didn’t matter. Women were only meant to look pretty, not have opinions.” Her voice trembles as if she lets the words out; it’ll destroy her all over again.
“Anytime I made a mistake, even when I was in high school, my dad turned it into a spectacle. Shaming me into silence and submission. Emotions were pretty much an off-limits topic. It’s like I was a robot for eighteen years. And now, well, I still can’t voice my own feelings half the time. So instead, I suppress it, wading deeper into the water until I get pulled under and have to go cry to my therapist, who tells me to stop doing that.”
I wrap my arms around her shoulders and drag her closer to me, resting my cheek on the top of her head; it’s becoming my favorite resting place. I rub small circles over her shoulders with my thumbs, hoping to convey the comfort I wish I could articulate. The crack in her voice cut deep; how could I possibly compare her to anyone else?
“She’s right,” My voice is rough with an emotion I’m not sure how to handle. “You should stop doing that. If you can’t talk to her right away, you can always call me. I mean it. Iwantto be your lighthouse. I want to know everything about you. The parts of you that you’ve hidden from the world, the parts you’re convinced make you unlovable. Give them to me, Hannah. I can tell you’ve never had someone be there for you. I want to be the one who does just that.”
Her breath hitches, and I think she might cry again; instead, she tucks her face into my chest, creating a barrier between us and the rest of the world. “I think I’d like you to be my lighthouse, Bulldozer.” She whispers. “Can we make a deal?”
I pull back, lifting her chin so I can meet her eyes; her cheeks are flushed, and her eyes are darker than I’ve ever seen them, but it’s the vulnerability that stirs like a hurricane in my gut.
“Depends,” I murmur against her forehead, “What are your conditions?”
“Can we heal together?” She blushes and tucks a fallen piece of hair behind her ear. “I mean. Can we lean on each other when things get rough? I–I haven’t had a support system outside of Abby and my therapist. For some reason, you feel safe.” She lets out a nervous chuckle and shakes her head as she finishes her thought. “That’s horrifying.”
Her words come fast, but full of truth. The way she’s looking at me right now–like she standing on the edge of something, hits like a physical blow. This is dangerous, I know it, but I also can’t stop myself.
I don’t think I’ve ever agreed to anything so fast in my life. “Absolutely we can.”
I run my fingers lightly down her spine, and she shudders; the tension between us pulls tight like a rubber band waiting to snap. I want to hold back, but I can’t. While we sit in comfortable silence, I run through the mental checklist of the ways she’s different from my ex. I can’t remember a single time during Kara and I’s relationship that she simply sat like this with me. It’s nice, something I could get used to if I'm not careful. Clearing my throat, I pick my head up off the top of hers. I know I'm on a slippery slope, one slicked up with baby oil, and I’m not entirely sure she’s willing to catch me at the bottom yet. This could crash and burn faster than a NASCAR wreck. But is it a risk I’m willing to take?
Yes.