Page 53 of Quiet Obsession
I gasp at the urgency in his voice and my eyes fly open. His face is inches from mine, dark gaze searching my features, minty breath warm against my cheek. I fill my lungs to the brim, catching the scent of his cologne, shower gel,and smoke.
The echoes of my past fade faster, his proximity doing wonders for my irrational anxiety.
“What happened, Millie?”
Before I can overthink, I drop my forehead to his chest, letting his closeness anchor me in the present. He only hesitates for a second, like he wasn’t expecting this, then quickly wraps his strong arms around me and cradles the back of my head.
“Shh, you’re okay.” His long fingers weave through my hair, sending pleasant shivers down my spine. “What can I do?”
I inhale him again, grasping fistfuls of his hoodie to pull myself closer. He’s so big he could hide me from the world.
If only he could hide me from my past...
“Talk to me, Millie,” Creed whispers, using his thumb to draw small circles at the base of my skull. “Should I get Hyde?”
I nod, holding on to him for fear of losing myself again.
I’m safe. Nothing happened, but I promised Hyde I’d go to him if I felt overwhelmed, and I do. And not just because of Jasper, Mateo, and how easily my memories dragged me under.
But because of Creed, too.
17
Millie
The clock on my bedside table reads four fifty-five. The sheets are twisted around my legs, and I can’t decide if I’m too hot, too cold, or just right. I’ve been pondering taking a sleeping pill, but my psychiatrist, even though he insisted on giving me those fucking pills, warned me not to take the easy way out every time I can’t fall asleep.
Abby’s snoring softly, comatose since I crawled into my bed after hiding in the library until midnight. I didn’t want to face her after I ran out of the cafeteria.
I shake my head, dislodging the memory of Jasper and Mateo, Creed’s arms around me, then Hyde’s as he spent the afternoon holding me curled into his side like a helpless little girl.
Kicking the sheets off, I rise from my bed, sick and tired of staring at the ceiling. I take light steps, careful notto wake Abby as I lock myself in the bathroom.
Fifteen minutes later, I enter the gym, my hoodie unzipped, “Beauty Sleep” by VOILÁ seeping from my headphones. The lights are on, but no one’s around. It’ll be about an hour before even Creed gets here.
Dropping my bag by my favorite treadmill—the one that’s perfectly positioned to ogle Creed as he hammers the boxing bag—I set a jogging pace.
I’ve run every day since I was discharged from the hospital. My psychiatrist, Dr. Quinn, insisted on exercise, droning on about endorphins and dopamine, but working out didn’t sound appealing until Hyde dragged me to a gym and the treadmills called my name.
Eyes closed, I find the correct button, gradually increasing speed. I usually stick to jogging, but today not even sprinting will help me outrun these feelings ripping me wide open.
I hate how much Jasper and Mateo rattled me, despite doing little to nothing wrong. I hate how fast my memories avalanched, burying me under their weight. I hate how fucking weak I feel.
Scowls, laughter, finger-pointing, and whispers accompanied my everyday life until I graduated high school. Evan’s voice still rings in my ears sometimes. The sweet nothings he whispered when I thought we were alone. The mocking that followed every interaction, out of my earshot. The silence when I walked back into the school cafeteria after a near-death experience.
I jam my finger into the speed controls, choking on my overwhelming humiliation. I didn’t want to die. I just wanted everything to stop for one goddamn minute.
Shame claws up my throat. I’m sprinting, but it’s not fast enough to outrun the feeling. Not enough to erase the heat crawling across my skin every time someone whispers.
The music changes from VOILÁ to My Darkest Days, to “Shame On Me” by Catch Your Breath, and it’s so on the nose tears prickle my eyes. Normally, I don’t let myself cry. I already cried a fucking river because of Evan, but I can’t stop choking today. My feet slam against the belt, my chest aches, vision tunnels, but I don’t stop.
I run faster.
Faster.
Faster.
Never fast enough.
