CHAPTER 28
Bree
It was early, early morning–the sun wasn't even up yet as I opened Archer's gate quietly, let Phoebe out of her carrier, and walked down the driveway to his house.
I tried his door and it was open, and so I tiptoed in, not wanting to wake him. I sucked in a breath and froze. His living room was torn apart, every book on the floor, furniture and lamps turned over, pictures lying broken on the ground. Ice water hit my veins. Oh God, oh God, oh God. What had happened here?
The light from the bathroom was on and the door just cracked, illuminating his short hallway enough to see as I walked toward Archer's bedroom on legs that felt like jelly, vomit coming up my throat.
I turned into his room and immediately saw his form huddled on his bed, fully dressed. His eyes were open, staring at the wall.
I rushed to him. His skin was clammy and he was trembling slightly. "Archer? Archer? Baby, what's wrong?"
His eyes moved to me, unseeing, looking right through me. I started to cry. "Archer, you're scaring me. What's wrong? Oh God, do you need a doctor? What happened here? Talk to me."
His eyes seemed to clear a little, moving over my face. Suddenly in one swift movement, he sat up and grabbed me, his hands moving over my face, my hair, my shoulders. His expression cleared completely for an instant before torment filled his face and he pulled me to him harshly, making me cry out. He held my body in a vice grip, his body trembling so severely that it almost felt like he was having a seizure in my arms.
Oh God, he thought something had happened to me. "Oh Archer, I'm sorry, so sorry. My phone got ruined. I'm sorry. I dropped it in a puddle in front of McDonalds. I'm sorry," I cried into his chest, gripping his shirt. "I'm so sorry, Archer baby. I didn't have your number… so stupid. I should have written it down. I'm so sorry. Archer, I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm so sorry."
We held each other this way for what seemed like hours, his breathing returning to normal. His body stilled and his grip loosened on me until he finally sat back and looked into my eyes, his own still filled with torment, with something that looked very close to grief.
"I'm here," I whispered, brushing the hair off of his forehead. "I'm here, Archer."
He brought his hands up. I had almost forgotten what it feels like, he said, suddenly looking lost, like a little boy. My heart beat hollowly in my chest, breaking for the man I loved, so petrified of loss that his mind had checked out in order that he could deal with his agonizing fear. Oh, Archer. I stifled a sob. The last thing he needed right now was for me to lose it.
"What what feels like?" I whispered.
To be completely alone.
"You're not, baby. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. I'm here."
He looked at me then and finally, smiled a sad smile. This is that burden I was talking about, Bree. This is what the burden of loving me looks like.
"Loving you isn't a burden. Loving you is an honor and a joy, Archer." I used my voice to talk to him so I could keep gripping his thighs with my hands. The contact felt important–not just for him, but for me. "You couldn't talk me out of loving you if you tried anyway. It's not a choice for me. It's just a truth."
He shook his head, looking lost again. If you hadn't come back, I would have lay here until I died. I would have just willed myself to die.
I shook my head. "No, you wouldn't have. It feels like that, but you wouldn't have. Somehow you would have had the strength to go on. I believe that about you. But you don't have to, because I'm here."
He shook his head. No. I would have just faded to dust, right here. How does that make you see me? Do I seem strong to you? Am I the kind of man you want? He looked into my eyes, begging me to tell him what he wanted to hear, but I didn't know what that was. Did he want me to tell him he was impossible to love? Did he want me to tell him I wasn't strong enough to love him? That the reassurance he needed from me was too much?
He pulled me to him and after a few minutes we moved over and lay down on his bed. I kicked my shoes off and pulled his quilt over us.
I listened to Archer's quiet breathing right at my ear, and after a few minutes, I closed my eyes too. We fell asleep facing each other, arms and legs entwined, our hearts beating a slow, steady rhythm.
Sometime later, when the midday sun was lighting the edges of the shade over Archer's bedroom window, I awoke as he pulled my jeans down my legs and my shirt over my head. He moved his hands over my skin as he closed his eyes and kissed me, almost as if he needed the constant contact to assure himself I was truly there with him. When I wrapped my legs around his hips and held him tightly, the look of relief that passed over his features was almost heart-wrenching. He moved inside me with deep, powerful thrusts, and I dropped my head back on the pillow, sighing with pleasure.
The pleasure rose higher and higher until I tipped over the edge, breathing out his name as my body shuddered in release. A few seconds later he followed behind me on two last jerky thrusts and then pressed deeply inside me as he stuck his face in my neck and just breathed there for several minutes.
I ran my hands up and down his back, whispering words of love in his ear over and over and over.
After a few minutes, he rolled to the side and gathered me in his arms again and was almost instantly asleep.
I lay there in the dim light of his room, listening to him breathe. I had to pee, and my thighs were sticky with his release, but I refused to move. I knew instinctively that he needed me right where I was. After a little while, I fell back to sleep too, my face next to his smooth chest, my breath against his skin, my legs entwined with his.
I woke up later and I was alone in bed, and the sun had moved in the sky. The light around the border of the shade was now muted and golden. Had we slept all day?
I sat up and stretched, my sore muscles protesting with my movement. I didn't think I had moved at all–wrapped in Archer's vice grip.
I looked up as he walked in the bedroom wearing a towel around his waist and rubbing another one through his hair that had already grown a little longer, starting to curl up slightly in the back and flop over his forehead a little. I liked it.
"Hi," I croaked out, smiling and bringing the sheet up over my breasts. He smiled back, a shy smile, and sat down on the side of the bed. He kept rubbing the towel through his hair absently for another minute as he looked down, and then he put the towel next to him on the bed and looked up at me.
I'm sorry about last night. I lost it, Bree, I was so scared and I didn't know what to do. I felt alone and helpless again. He paused, pursing his lips and obviously gathering his thoughts. I… freaked out, I guess. I don't even remember doing what I did to the living room.
I grabbed his hands and shook my head. Archer, do you remember how I reacted when I got caught in that net out there? I gestured my head to the window. I get it. Sometimes fear gets the best of you. I get it. I'm the last person you have to apologize to about that. You picked up where I left off once, and now I get to do that for you. That's how it works, okay?
He nodded, looking at me so solemnly. The problem, Bree, is that I feel like it's getting better for you and worse for me.
I'm up for the challenge, I said, raising my brows and smiling at him slightly, trying to coax a smile from him too.
It worked, and he let out a breath and nodded. Are you hungry?
Famished.
He smiled, but it still looked a little sad. I looked at him for a minute and then leaned forward and threw my arms around him. "I love you," I whispered in his ear. His body tensed slightly, but he wrapped his arms around me and squeezed me back tightly.
We sat there like that for a few minutes and then I said against his neck. "I need a shower–bad. Like, really bad."
He finally laughed just a little as he picked me up and sat me down on the floor and stood up, straightening his towel. I like you all dirty with me all over you, he said.
Oh, I know. I winked, trying to coax another smile from him as I walked toward his door, using my voice as I turned toward him. "You can dirty me up again later. Right now, I'm getting clean and you're going to feed me."
Yes, ma'am, he said, giving me another small smile.
I smiled back at him and then I turned out of the room and walked down the hall toward the shower. I closed the bathroom door behind me and just stood on the other side for a minute, trying to figure out why I was still so worried.
