I Never Meant to Start a War

I don’t know how long I laid there waiting, but before I could lose my mind the front door closed with a soft bang, enough to stir through the waters of my drudging mind. I didn’t open my eyes when I heard the soft tones of voices begin to sound through the house, echoing because of the absolute silence.

“Hey, Mom,” I heard Paul’s deep voice say. “Is Marie here? Her car is out front.”

“Yes,” Carrie said hesitantly, but must have reached out to grab him to stop him from moving, from the sounds of footsteps coming to a sudden halt. I heard her tired sigh.

“What’s wrong?” Paul was suddenly in panic mode. He must have sensed the distress in her tone just as I had and he must be interpreting it a thousand different ways in his mind, all leading to the wrong conclusion. Once again, the sound of sudden footfalls silenced soon.

His mother sighed again. “She showed up crying, saying that there was nowhere else she could go. I don’t know what happened but she looked . . . destroyed. She’s in your room, and she might be sleeping, so don’t wake her up. It’s just . . . God, the look on her face, and the bruises—”

“Bruises?” the werewolf I loved echoed monotonously, but I heard the underlying rage and knew that it took all the control he had to try and let go of it for now, to think and care about why I was crying rather than where those bruises could have come from. He whispered something to his mother that I didn’t catch before I could hear the patter of him moving up the steps, rushing down the hall, pushing open the door.

I didn’t open my eyes when I heard the door open, instead just stayed in my position tangled in the sheets as I breathed evenly, keeping myself in control. He closed the door before I felt him take a couple of hesitant steps toward me, as if the closeness would hurt me more than anything else that had happened to me the day prior. I felt the bed dip as he sat down next to me, felt his hand stroke the hair out of my face and touch the tired purple bruises under my eyes.

Finally, finally, I opened my eyes and looked at him.

He was staring down at me with a soft, loving, caring expression that knocked me breathless, and it didn’t significantly change when he looked into my blue eyes with his chocolate brown ones. I got lost in them as the heat of his touch soothed me to what I assumed the escape I needed was. But I didn’t let it take me away. I needed this moment.

I needed this moment right now, the moment where it would all become worth it; where all the pain and heartbreak would turn out to be only collateral damage compared to the happiness I hope to receive.

Somehow, when I looked into his eyes, I knew that it would all be worth it.

Paul looked away from my eyes to look at the bruises from sleeplessness for a long moment. “You need to get some sleep,” he whispered to me calmly, but sleep was one of the last things on my mind. I shook my head and he moved his hand away.

I took his hand and pulled myself closer, to which he immediately laid down and took me into the security of his arms, holding me tight against his chest. He smelled like an assortment of trees and plants and any other kind of vegetation that he could have run through during his sweep of the forest. I could feel his heart beating slowly and surely, a telltale reminder of the differences between the one I picked, and the one I left behind. A searing pain slipped through my heart. I inched slightly away and Paul, used to my cautiousness when it came to him, let me go completely.

I think I took us both by surprise when I kissed him.

At first, I could feel the shock by the tension in his lips, but he quickly recovered, relaxing into it and pulling me as close as he could, holding me so, so tight. That was another difference between Paul and Jasper—Paul was never afraid that he was going to hurt me. He knew that he would never, ever be able to hurt me. Jasper always held me like I was fragile, but Paul held me with a confidence that meant he would rather hold me so tightly to him forever. I melted into him.

As I felt myself falling deeper and deeper in love with him, I wondered if it was even possible. Maybe I had just deluded myself into thinking that I could fall even more in love with him.

If that was the case, then I didn’t mind.

Before long, we pulled away, and Paul looked down at me with a light in his eyes that I never wanted to go away. I wondered what shone in mine, because it made Paul smile like this had to have been the happiest moment of his life. He didn’t let me go, instead tried to pull me closer.

He buried his face in my hair and whispered, “Why were you crying?”

I looked up at him and said words that should have been much harder to bear: “I left him. It’s over.”

Suddenly, he smiled a blinding smile, and although I was sure I knew the answer, there was an unfamiliar aspect in the shine of his eyes.

“What?” I whispered.

“You came to me.” His smile was blinding, and I couldn’t believe that it made him at least a bit happy just to know that when I wanted to cry, I would rather be in his arms. That I would rather have the security of letting him be the one to comfort me and making me feel better instead of anyone else on the planet.

I averted my gaze and felt myself blush. As if I had a real reason to be embarrassed.

I mean, I basically had just admitted to him that I would choose him over someone he knew I had loved dearly. I had all but admitted that I loved him with all of my heart, and I was embarrassed because I didn’t mind being in his arms?

He leaned down and kissed my temple before burying his head against it, his breath brushing against my cheek. I could feel his smile. I was sure he could feel mine.

“I love you,” I heard myself whisper into the peace.

Paul moved so that he could look into my eyes, so I could see the emotions in his. He smiled softly down at me before he said, “I love you more than words can express. I love you so much.”

I didn’t need to hear him say it back, because it was obvious in the way he held me, but nonetheless, it made my heart swell as big as a balloon in my chest and made this goofy smile slip onto my lips as I hugged myself to him, letting his breathing soothe me to sleep.

Sleep never came. But happiness did.

I don’t know how long we laid there, just sitting there and breathing in the dark calm of his bedroom, just letting us live in the moment as we committed it to memory for forever. It had to have been an hour before Paul stirred, sitting up slightly. I opened my eyes slowly to see him looking down at me with strange look, his hand hesitating against one of mine, his fingers very slightly pressing against the sore skin there.

Before I could ask, he murmured, “Did he hurt you?”

I knew Carrie had talked about the bruises, but I had almost hoped that he would have forgotten. I squirmed uncomfortably but he didn’t let it go, too intent on the truth to realize he wouldn’t want to hear the answer. I bit my lip.

Slowly, I shrugged.

“Did he hurt you?” Paul repeated himself, much more fierce, more annoyed. He knew the answer but wanted to hear it from me. And I didn’t want to start a war. I looked anywhere but at his eyes, anywhere but at him. I looked to my hands, but I still saw his hand, hovering and brushing against mine, and a shiver rolled through my body.

I looked away as I sighed, squeezing my eyes shut. “Not badly,” I said.

“Bullshit,” he replied.

“Don’t—” I started to say against his rage, but he had already tugged my sleeve up, the one that happened to have the wrist that still seared to this moment. We both looked down to it, both saw the deep purple bruise wrapped around it like a grotesque bracelet, and Paul let out an animalistic snarl. His hands let me go as they started to shake, gritting his teeth together in an attempt to keep himself in control, his eyes showing the fire he felt with his anger.

As if we had gone through this a million times, as if I knew what to actually do with an angry werewolf, I trapped his face between my hands, closed my eyes, and laid my forehead against his.

The shaking began to stop.

I felt him looking at me but didn’t open my eyes, just breathed until I felt his breathing match mine, and I knew it was all okay. I peeked through my lids to see Paul staring at me in surprise, wonder almost. He reached up and touched the hands on his face, still looking at me with an expression of complete awe, amazement, and love. My stomach twisted slightly, shyly, and I felt myself blush.

“What?” I whispered, and, again, I kind of knew the answer in his eyes.

He murmured, “Where have you been?”

I knew what he meant, and I blushed a further color of red, glancing down. But when I looked back up, he was still gazing at me with that same love-struck expression that made me want to kiss him. I didn’t.

Instead, I smiled. A little sadly. A little happily.

If this was what life was going to give me for the pain, I didn’t mind the perfect high it gave me one bit.

“I’ve always been just out of sight,” I whispered, closing my eyes again. I felt myself smile against his mouth. “But I’m here now.”