Page 19 of Angel
“I didn’t want you to look at me like I was broken,” she whispers.
“I don’t.”
“You did,” she says, tears pooling. “After the hospital. You looked at me like you didn’t know how to fix it.” I wince.
“That ain’t because I think you’re broken,” I tell her. “It’s because I hate that I can’t fix it.”
She presses her lips together.
“I feel like if I don’t control this, if I don’t do everything right…then it’s my fault.”
I reach across the table then. Not grabbing. Just offering my hand.
“Stevie… none of this is your fault.”
She hesitates. Then her fingers curl around mine. Tight.
“I don’t know how to stop,” she admits.
I squeeze her hand gently.
“Then don’t. Not all at once. Just… let me in.”
She lets out a shaky breath.
“I don’t even know who I am without trying.”
“You’re my wife,” I say simply. “You’re the woman who dances barefoot in the kitchen. The one who laughs too loudly at stupid jokes. The one who crawls into my lap like she owns the place.”
A tear slips free. “That woman feels far away.”
“Then we’ll find her again.”
Her voice cracks. “What if I can’t be, okay?"
“Then we won’t be okay together,” I say. “But we’ll still be together.”
That breaks her. She stands so fast her chair scrapes across the floor, and then she’s in my arms. No hesitation or space. Just her crashing into me like she’s been holding it in too long.
She cries hard. Face pressed into my chest. Fists clenched in my hoodie like she’s afraid I’ll disappear. I wrap my arms around her and hold on.
I don’t speak. I don’t try to solve anything. Just stay. Her tears soak through the fabric. Her breathing comes in ragged pulls.
“I’m so tired,” she sobs. “I’m so fucking tired.”
“I know,” I murmur into her hair. “I know, baby.”
“I don’t want to lose you.”
“You won’t.”
“What if this never happens?”
I swallow the instinct to promise her something I can’t guarantee.
“Then we’ll figure out what our life looks like anyway,” I say carefully. “But we’ll figure it out together.”
She shakes in my arms. “I don’t want to stop trying.”
