I couldn't say how long I sat there on his lap sobbing. Once he said sorry it was like all the dam walls shattered and two years of hiding and shoving things away. Building steel entombed cases in my heart. All of it came out and I couldn't stop it.
"Damn you Beau Remington Brighton. Damn you hard." I sniffed and tried to wipe the tears off my face.
Beau caught my 'good' wrist, dropped it in my lap and ran his thumb under my eye himself. "It's okay." He moved his thumb down my cheek to under my chin forcing me to keep eye contact. "I've got you. It's okay ACE." He tucked my head back and kissed the top of it again.
I had done so well at hiding everything. I meant it when I told him the tattoos were supposed to help. And they did--for a while. I had done so well in fact, that I had stopped going to therapy six months after starting it. Hiding things so well that my parents had no idea I'd gone back to my trusty, self destructing vice. So well that my best friends, the 'unblood sisters' -- so the family had coined us girls -- couldn't even tell. My brothers were so happy with the amount of tattoos I'd been getting, cutting was the furthest thing in their heads.
After less than twelve hours of being back, this man had ever so successfully broken my Grammy award winning performance I had perfected in the last year and a half. Shattered the facade in more than a billion pieces.
I pulled my sleeve over my left fist and tried to rub away the snot that was on his shirt. Kind of embarrassing. He chuckled a little, knowing exactly where my brain had switched to. "It's just a shirt." Beau reached over the back of his head and pulled the shirt up, over and off...dropped it on the floor then shrugged. "No harm."
Yeahok. Holy hell. How was his body even possible? I forgot how to fucking breathe.
He still had my gaze trapped when I sniffed again. "Give me a second. I'll come back to you." I went back to building my walls and shoving everything emotion wise deep, deep down. I grinned, "Sorry."
"No. Don't do that. It's me Aspen. Let me in." He was back to smoothing my scars.
"There's nothing to let you in on." Suddenly the sleeve of my shirt was the most interesting thing in the world. "You know how it goes. It hurts. I hide it. I hover over your name...contemplate calling you. Forfeit that idea. Get a new tattoo. That pain holds over for a little. Then the hurt gets to the undeniable point, then I do it and it hurts a little less until the scars start to form." It was my turn to shrug. He went to say something but I pinched his lips closed. "It's okay Bright...I understand. Being a tier one operator and deployments are enough havoc on your life, let alone some 19 year old kid opening her mouth and finally coming to the outing point of how deep her feelings ran." I took another page out of his book from tonight and held his chin so he had to focus on my stare. "I. Get. It. If there's anybody anywhere that gets it....it's me."
He knew what I was attempting to do. I didn't need him feeling guilty the whole time he was on leave because yes, more than a couple dozen of these scars have his names attached to them. It's my cross to bare...not his. I was trying to give him an out.
He kissed me on the forehead and started to move me from his lap. "Oh Sweetheart. This is not at all how I pictured tonight going, but I'll take your pass and won't press any more until later." I smiled, internally thanking God he was going to drop things for his first night back that I'd already ruined. He slipped the rest of my long sleeve off, took a long appraising look at my cropped tank underneath and grinned before laying down on the couch and stretching me out in front of him. "I lost my shirt...so you don't need that shirt. I'm here now." I snuggled in closer and he kicked his leg over mine before pulling the blanket up. "What are we watching?"