Page 139 of Eleanor & Grey
I sighed, walking into his room and closing the bedroom door behind me. His thoughts were probably spinning with everything that happened that night. How could they not be? His daughter was attacked, abused, belittled. All because she was lonely.
I sat beside him and noticed his shoulders were rounded forward.
I knew his looks so well. I knew when he was beating himself up. I knew when the world was too heavy on his shoulders. I knew when he was thinking the worst thoughts. “It’s not your fault, Grey,” I promised, but he tensed up as if he didn’t believe me.
“If I had been here, she wouldn’t have been alone. If I hadn’t abandoned her, this wouldn’t have happened. If my eyes would’ve stayed on the road...”
He couldn’t slow down his mind. He couldn’t hear anything except his rapid flawed beliefs, so I wasn’t certain any words would help him.
“What do you need from me?” I asked, placing a hand of comfort on his leg. “What do you need me to do?”
He turned his head toward me as tears streamed down his face. His lips parted slowly. His voice was so low and broken, I wasn’t certain that I even heard him. “Stay,” he breathed out. “I just need you to stay.”
So I did exactly that.
We lay down in the bed, facing each other. We weren’t touching, but I swore I felt him. I felt his heartbeats. When he hurt, my heart cried. When he was in pain, my eyes were the ones to weep. That’s how close the two of us were. Our lovestory was so much more than a romantic tale. Our story was about friendship. About family. About looking out for those who always looked out for you.
His soul was born to be loved by mine.
We fell asleep that night, and whenever he awakened from night terrors, I would be there to soothe him. I held him tightly as he hurt with empathy for his daughter.
I needed him to know it was OK to break. To fall apart. To crash and burn. Then when it came time for him to stand again, if he ever needed a hand, I’d always give him mine.
“Still here, Grey,” I whispered as his head lay against the curve of my neck.
Still here.
52Greyson
“Daddy, wake up! It’s morning and Grandma always makes us chocolate pancakes on Sunday mornings.” Lorelai walked into my bedroom, yawning. I was exhausted and could’ve easily slept for a few more hours. But Lorelai kept talking, and her next words forced me to open my eyes. “Why is Eleanor in your bed, Daddy?”
My eyes shot open and I looked to my left, where Eleanor was still sound asleep. My arm was wrapped beneath her body, and when I sat up a bit, she stirred.
“Lorelai, what did I tell you? Just let Dad sl— What the hell?” was muttered, and I knew it wasn’t from Lorelai’s mouth. Karla stood in the doorway behind her little sister, but they both held such different expressions.
Lorelai stood there with wonderment while Karla wore the strongest look of betrayal.
“You and Eleanor?” she breathed out quietly, stunned.
“No, it’s not what it looks like,” I bellowed, yanking my arm from beneath Eleanor’s body. “Eleanor, get up,” I said, nudging her arm.
She stirred a bit more before waking up, and the moment she collected her whereabouts, the moment she saw the girls, panic filled her eyes.
Tears welled in Karla’s eyes, and she repeated herself. “Oh my God!YouandEleanor?!” she hissed, this time filled withrage. “How could you?” she pressed me. “How could you do that to Mom?” she cried before hurrying off toward her bedroom.
“Shit,” I muttered, standing up from the bed.
Lorelai looked at me with such bewilderment. “What did you do to Mommy, Daddy?” she asked me, scratching her head.
“Nothing. I’ll explain later. Stay here.”
I darted toward Karla’s door, which was already closed and being blocked by her body. Every time I tried to shove it open, she’d shove it shut. “Go away!” she shouted, and I could hear the heartbreak in her voice.
I laid my fists against the doorframe. “Karla... it’s not what you think,” I tried to promise.
“Oh, so you weren’t just cuddled up in bed with the freaking nanny?!” she hollered.
Well, OK.
