ReCAP: A NORMAL Novella (18 page)

She’s had to endure even
more than I knew. More than I ever imagined. And adding the grief
of losing the best friend she loved more than anything so
tragically, it’s a wonder she handled everything as well as she
did. That all she walked away with was an anxiety
disorder.

The idea that she ever saw
herself as weak boggles my mind.

She is the epitome of fierce strength, and I
couldn’t be prouder of her.

She snuggles into me and I hold her as
tightly as I can without hurting her, and whisper to her how brave
she is, how incredible, and for once, she lets me.

“I’m so sorry about
earlier, Ror. I had no idea. I don’t know what I was even accusing
you of – I was just being jealous and paranoid.
And
possessive…” I trail of,
feeling so impossibly inept at this. I hope she knows I’m trying.
That I’ve never done anything like this before.

“You should know, I have
no fucking clue what I’m doing,” I confess. “I’ve never been in a
relationship – never had a single jealous feeling over a girl. But
with
you
…” I
shake my head I self-reproach. “I overreacted when I should have
just trusted you. It helps knowing we’re on the same page, but
look, I shouldn’t have pushed you.”

Rory shrugs. “It was my
fault, Sam. I should’ve just
told
you. I just… It’s just… hard to talk
about.”

Well, of course it is.

I brush her cheek with my fingers, tracing
the outline of the bandage there. I want more than anything to kiss
her, but I wait.

“I’m glad you told me,” I admit.

“Hey,” she says suddenly, “tell me somethin’
about you no one else knows.”

But she already knows
everything about me. Except one very important thing. I definitely
hadn’t planned on telling her this tonight – I’m not sure I planned
on actually telling her ever, in fact. But it doesn’t matter
anymore. I’m so fucking lost to her there’s no coming back. I bite
my lip, and pretend to mull it over.

“How about I tell you
something
everyone
else knows… apart from you, apparently,” and she blinks at
me. But I’m pretty sure my closest friends knew it before I even
did, and there’s no hiding it now. “Rory…”

“Yeah?”

“I fucking
love
you.”

There it is. I can’t take it back now. And
fuck if I even want to.

Rory gasps in unfathomable surprise, because
how could she not know?

Her eyes widen and her
mouth gapes open, but I don’t need her to say anything. This was
about what
I
needed to say.

My fingers creep into her hair, tentatively,
afraid to push her after the night she’s had, and I slowly pull her
face to meet mine. But she suddenly crushes her mouth to mine, and
her swollen lips bring me back home.

But she pulls away abruptly, looking somehow
startled.

I watch her process her own thoughts,
anxious and afraid. But there’s nothing to fear. It’s not a selfish
thing. I didn’t say it to gain anything from her. It’s just a truth
I’ve known a while, that I needed to verbalize, that’s all.

“Ror?”

“You…
you can’t
,” she decides, and I
don’t understand her meaning.

“I
can
, baby girl,” I counter. And
I
do
. My mouth
twists into a small smile at her doubt. She judges herself so
harshly. It shocks me that she’d believe, even now, that she’s
somehow unlovable to me, but I won’t let her believe it for another
moment.

But she wrenches out of my arms and stands,
like she can’t get away from me fast enough.

I’m overcome with fear.
Worried I’ve made a terrible mistake in my confession. What if she
can’t handle it right now? What the fuck was I
thinking?

Or maybe she’s just worried because she
doesn’t feel the same. But that’s not what this is about. I knew
she probably didn’t. I’ve made peace with that.

“
No
, Sam—“

“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same, Ror,
I didn’t mean to pressure you, or—“

“No, it’s not that!
Of
course
I love
you, Sam!”

My jaw drops. It’s the
last words I expected to come out of her mouth. And the fact that
she looks horrified at her admission only solidifies their truth.
She hadn’t meant to say it.

Rory loves me.

Rory really fucking
loves me
.

My chest practically explodes.

“Damn it!” She rubs her face in frustration,
and takes a deep breath. But I wait patiently.

I can handle anything she throws at me right
now. Because she fucking loves me. I want to shout it from the
balcony.

“Sam, I… I do love you,” she admits
again.

A thrill runs through me. She’s not
backtracking. I want to grab her and kiss her again, but first she
needs to work through whatever is fucking with her head right
now.

“Which is why I can’t do
this. Why I can’t let
you
do this.
You
– you’re amazing. You deserve a normal girl, with
a normal life, and normal problems. Not…” she gestures to her
perfect self, “me. A broken mess.”

I want to scream in frustration. I can’t
listen to this again. It’s complete and utter bullshit. I stand up,
reigning in my anger at her words. “Don’t you talk about yourself
like that! We’ve been over this!” How many times do I have to
explain this?

She shakes her head. “Yeah, everyone has
issues, I know, but mine are worse, remember? No matter how strong
you think I am, I’m still—“

“You’re still
my Rory
. And I
fucking
love
you.” Doesn’t she get how earth-shattering that is? “If I’m
so damn amazing then don’t I deserve to be with the girl I’m
fucking
in love
with?”
God
,
as if this happens every fucking day.

I calm myself, watching
her carefully. I need to make her understand. I brush her
still-damp hair behind her ear. “I know what I want, Ror. Maybe
even more so
because
it’s not something I’ve ever wanted before – something I ever
even thought I
could
want. But whatever you say, whatever you want, whatever you
decide – it isn’t going to change how I feel.

“I’m not just going to
move on and find someone else because you still think you don’t
deserve this – that you’re not
normal
. Because what you don’t get
is that you’re right, you’re
not
normal, but not because you have fucking anxiety.
Because you’re better than
normal
, Ror, you’re fucking
incredible. You’re beautiful and smart and strong and loyal. You’re
fucking
everything
to me. If you don’t want this – me, then that’s one thing,
but if you do… don’t let him win, baby. After
everything
… you deserve to be
happy, Ror, we deserve it.”

She stares up at me and I hold my breath,
praying that I’m getting through to her. Because she can decide
what she wants, but it won’t change a damned thing for me.

Her eyes water and spill over, but I wipe
her tears before they even make it to the bridge of her nose.

“I still think you deserve
better,” she whispers, but she’s wavering, and I take a step
forward until she’s right up against me.
Better
. It’s laughable.

“There’s no such thing,
Ror,” I tell her and then my mouth is on hers.

She kisses me back with
the love she’s already confessed, and there’s a new kind of
connection between us – an honest one, one where neither of us
holds anything back, where we prove our words with our
lips.

I scoop her up and carry
her into the bedroom, setting her gently on the bed. She's staying
with me again tonight. She's staying with me
every
fucking night.

Until we go back home in a few days.

It's a bittersweet
thought. Because although we won't have the freedom awarded by
vacation and hotel rooms, she's coming back to Port Woodmere as my
girlfriend, and the idea of it fills me with a new kind of
exhilaration. Of contentment. And I have no memory of a time when I
was happier than I am in this moment. Even as a child. Especially
as a child.

It makes me feel guilty.
After the night we’ve had, after the night Rory had, joy is the
last thing I should feel, but as I shove off my jeans and climb
into bed with her, it's impossible to deny my intense
satisfaction.

Rory snuggles against me,
as if she knows just as well as I do that it's exactly where she's
meant to be, and sighs. I trace the delicate lines of her back with
the tips of my fingers, and wait for her breathing to even out, for
her to fall into sleep. But her fingers reach for the hem of my tee
shirt – the one I changed into after I cleaned up all of her
bastard ex's blood – and she peels it off of me. I let her. I've
never slept in a tee shirt anyway.

But then she reaches for
her tank top, and I stop her. Because I'm already battling a
serious hard-on just lying in bed with her, and I'd rather mitigate
my own torment tonight. Her eyebrows rise in question.

"Let's not test my
self-restraint any more than we have to, yeah?" I say lightly.
Because after what she endured tonight, she needs to be held and
comforted, and her proximity incites a hell of a lot more than a
desire to fucking hold her, and that's
with
her clothes between
us.

"I didn't ask you to
restrain anything," she replies, and her voice has grown breathy –
a tone I recognize immediately, and it doesn't help my arousal. She
pulls her shirt up more, and I tighten my grip on her wrist to stop
her.

"Baby, you've been through
hell tonight," I remind her. "You're
hurt
." My free hand reaches up and
grazes the small bandage on her cheek, the darkening bruise beneath
it. It makes my chest hurt.

Rory stares at me a
moment. "I just… need to feel your skin against mine."

Well,
fuck
.

My hand releases her wrist
without another thought and she has her tank top over her head and
her shorts – my underwear – kicked off of her ankles in less than a
second.

Only then does she return to her place in my
arms.

She was right, of course. This does feel so
much fucking better. The warmth of her skin against mine is
life-affirming, reminding me that even through the awful events of
tonight, Rory is a survivor, a fighter, and she is here -- she is
okay.

But still, it doesn't help the now rock-hard
situation in my boxer briefs. I know I'll never fall asleep in this
state, but I'll suffer all night if only to give her even an extra
ounce of comfort.

"
God
you're beautiful," I whisper.
Everything about her is fucking perfect.

She cuddles into me even more, and presses
her face against my neck, whispering her lips softly back and forth
against my overheated skin. I shudder beneath her.

"You trying to torture me?" She must be.
Because everything she does just turns me on more.

She shakes her head against my neck and I
laugh. I kiss her hair, and inhale deeply, savoring the clean scent
of her. I should just let her fall asleep. But one thing keeps
bothering me.

I glance down at my boxer
briefs.
Well, maybe two things.

But it was what I overheard in the alley
that I can't make sense of.

"What were you talking
about with him? What did he ask you that you said
yes
to – you know, that set him
off like that?" I ask tentatively. The last thing I want is to
remind her of being attacked only a few hours ago, but I need to
know what went down.

Rory hesitates, arousing my suspicion.
Whatever it was, it isn't going to make me happy.

"He, uh… he found my
scar," she breathes. "He was so damn happy that it
did
scar – that I had
his mark to remind me that I'd always be his no matter what I
do…"

I tense beneath
her.
That fucking
bastard
. I want to tell her that it
isn't
his
scar,
it's
hers
. It
isn't his mark of possession, it's her mark of survival, of
courage, but I'm too busy containing my rage.

"He heard me scream for
you, you know, when you ran past the alley… he's been
following
us, Sam, for I
don't know how long. Maybe he saw us leave the bar last night…
maybe he was even around the hotel." Her breathing grows faster and
shallower as she speaks, as if she's only now realizing the
implications of the fact that he's been fucking
stalking
her.

It shoots a ribbon of
terror deep into my gut.

While I was thinking about taking a car up
to her hometown to find him, he was here, stalking her. My stomach
drops at the thought of what would have happened tonight if I
hadn't been here. I'm so stupid. The thought that I would consider
prioritizing my own need for vengeance over Rory's safety
completely sucker punches me.