"Since fifth grade with Eric Anderson," Nat calls out before she opens the door and steps outside.
"Right, since fifth grade," I mumble. It feels like all the adrenaline is seeping out of my pores, and I'm suddenly exhausted.
But all of my thoughts are on Leilani, and how that jerk was treating her. Is she really okay? "Babe? Let me look at you. I need to know you're okay," I call out.
She returns with a plastic first aid kit the size of a small suitcase. I crack a grin. "You planning on opening a field hospital in your spare time?"
"Silly. I'm okay, just shaken. Let me clean you up. Man, that was something with Natalia, right?" She rests the suitcase on the table.
I blow out a breath. "She was like..."
"Some kind of dystopian, mercenary warrior," Leilani finishes my sentence.
"Right? Or I was thinking more like Dirty Harry. If Dirty Harry lived in Florida and had pink hair and knew how to wield a makeshift, wooden weapon."
She smiles and flips open the top of the suitcase. "I'm sorry you had to get involved in that. Had to see that. But. Thank you. Hang on, I think I need more light."
It takes her a few seconds to blast on all the lights in the place, then return to me. Her delicate fingers tear open an alcohol swab, and I rest my hand on her hip. "When you didn't text, I felt like something was wrong. So, I had to come over. If something had happened to you..." My voice cracks.
I look at her, really look at her, in the light. Pale. Shaken. But unharmed. The relief of that hits me harder than any punch I just took.
"I'm so sorry," I murmur. "That you had to be alone with him for even a minute."
"Shh," she says. "We're both okay now."
Her fingers graze my skin as she dabs at my face. I suck in a breath, hiss, and groan. After bloodying a dozen alcohol-soaked pads, she pauses and studies my face.
"Not too bad. That eye's going to be swollen and bruised for a while."
"I don't think anything's broken, so it's all good," I murmur. "Don't worry about me. Come here."
I pull Leilani onto my lap.
"Missed you. So much." I turn my head so I can look at her out of my non-swollen eye.
"I missed you too. I'm sorry for running out on you like that. I got scared."
"No. Don't apologize. You were setting boundaries, like you said. A good thing. That's natural. Of course, you were scared. Are scared. After everything you've been through. And I didn't make it any easier, insisting that we were just friends with benefits. That was stupid."
She sniffles. "I went along with it. I proposed the entire thing."
"I was scared, too. Scared of how I feel about you, because I feel so much. Somehow, I thought that being in a relationship meant predictability. That if we went there, you'd force me to be normal and stable, and not spontaneous. That you'd somehow reduce me to a life of work and long commutes and routine. And then when you left, I felt ashamed of myself for thinking that."
She laughs through her tears. "Um, dude? I'm a mermaid. I'm not sure if I'm the poster child for a normal life."
I chuckle and press my lips to the side of her head. "I realized I'm so much happier when you're around. And if I'm not happy, then I lose freedom in a different kind of way. We can be exclusive and boyfriend and girlfriend and all that good stuff, and proceed on our own timetable. On your timetable. I want you to trust me. Want you to know I'm there for you, no matter what."
She hiccups in a breath. "I'd like that. To be with you. And only you. But I might hit some speedbumps. I'm still trying to find balance. Still coming to grips with the fact that my needs matter, and that I have to forgive myself for what happened with Brent. Still trying not to be scared."
"Oh, babe," I sigh, gingerly pulling her into my aching body. "I'm here to help you, however you need. Here for all your speedbumps and your boundaries and your fear. Here for it all."
Leilani lets out a loud sob, and I stroke her back, emotion filling my chest until it feels like I could burst.
"I'm here for you," I whisper in her ear. "No one's ever going to hurt you again."
Least of all, me.
Remy