"Mmmm…Good morning." Billy smiled as he pulled her body closer to him and nuzzled into her neck. He leaned over, his eyes staring into hers as he gently brushed the hair away from her face, "You're awake awful early. You sleep okay?"
"I don't recall us getting much sleep," she giggled, turning over to face him as she artfully avoided the question.
His eyebrows shot up as he brought his hands to his chest in mock innocence. "Ms. Summers," he whispered, as he leaned in for a quick kiss, "I can't imagine what you're implying." For a moment he simply lay there, relishing the feeling of having her in his arms.
It had been nearly four days since it happened, four days since the most terrifying moment of his life. He'd never be able to forget the terror that went through him as he sank to his knees in front of that cabin, the hopelessness that overtook him as he tried to comprehend the thought of a life without out, and the complete and total joy that overwhelmed him when he realized he'd…they'd…been given a second chance. From that moment forward, he'd made a promise—not another second would be taken for granted. They would make the most of every single day, every single hour, every single minute—and that's precisely what they'd been doing.
"You know…" He smiled as he saw the exaggerated pout form on her face. "As much as I hate to do this…I really do…I think we might be approaching an inevitable practicality of life here."
"Practicality has never really been my thing," she huffed, snuggling in closer to him again, "We could just stay here…"
"And we'll be back here tonight," he whispered, "but we both have jobs and if we don't get back to them soon, I'm afraid they're gonna send the police out for a well check."
"Let them," she smiled, "I think we'd check out."
He couldn't keep smile from spreading across his face as he stared at her. Being with her these last few days had reminded him of just how much he'd missed her. It wasn't that he'd ever forgotten, but the little things about being near her—about being close to her—it made him feel alive in a way he hadn't felt in so long. "How about a compromise?"
Phyllis looked up at him, her eyes narrowing, "I'm listening…"
"Join me in the shower." He stood, pulling at the sheet that was wrapped around her bare body.
She smiled. "You do make a very attractive offer," she cooed, giggling as he lifted her into his arms and walked from the room.
She pulled the robe around her, carefully drying her face with a towel as she sat down in front of the mirror. The harsh bathroom lighting made the dark circles under her eyes even more visible. With a sigh, she reached into the drawer, dabbing the makeup on furiously and checking the results as she leaned in closer. It wasn't perfect, but hopefully it wouldn't be obvious enough to draw Billy's attention. She didn't want him worrying about her.
His arms had always been her safe place, no matter the circumstances. In the past, she had come to him and found peace in his embrace, but now—nothing seemed to work. Each night the images seemed more vivid, the sounds seemed closer, the feelings seemed a bit more real. She'd try to close her eyes, to count, to mentally relax each part of her body—every trick she'd ever read or heard, but sleep continued to allude her. Exhausted she'd curl closer to him, always finding his arms willing to wrap her, to hold her tight. Many times he'd ask if she was okay and she'd lie, saying she was cold, or that she missed his touch, or something else. She never told him the truth. She never told him she couldn't close her eyes without seeing Marco's face. She never told him she heard his voice in the silence of the still night. She never admitted to hearing the sound of the gunshot in her head over and over and over again until she simply wanted to scream. She never told him any of that.
Billy watched her in silence as she pushed the forkful of eggs back and forth across the plate. She glanced up, catching his eyes on her.
"What?" she said softly, forcing a slight smile.
"Well, I mean…I know I'm not a gourmet chef, but I didn't think they were that bad."
Phyllis glanced down at the plate, momentarily confused by his comment. "Oh—the eggs, no…" She shook her head, and softened her eyes as she looked up at him. "The eggs are great. This is really sweet, but you didn't have to make breakfast. I'm not a big breakfast eater—you know that…and I guess I'm just not really hungry. That's all. I hate that you went through all this trouble."
"No trouble." Billy stood, grabbing the plate away from her and pressing a quick kiss to her cheek before raking the remains into the disposal, "But I'm afraid I do need to be getting out of here. Can I give you a ride to the office?"
"That sounds nice." She stood. "Let me just grab my bag from upstairs."
She headed up the stairs, pausing for a moment to catch a reflection in the mirror. From the outside, everything appeared normal. No one would be the wiser. Her hair was done, her makeup perfected, her outfit coordinated—she was a walking picture of stability. Inside though—inside she was screaming. Her chest ached as she forced a deep breath into her lungs. The face that stared back at her look pinched and nervous, not at all like the confident, take no prisoner's woman she liked to present. Forcing her shoulders back, she stared down her reflection. Maybe this would help, she thought silently. Maybe getting back to work, finding her niche, being productive and successful with something she enjoyed would help her feel more like herself. Maybe…
"Phyllis!"
The sound of Lauren's voice made her jump and only then did she feel the searing pain. She looked down at the hot coffee pouring down overtop the coffee mug and onto her hand.
"Oh, God," she hissed, pushing the mug further on the counter and turning on the water in the sink.
"Are you alright?" Lauren asked with grave concern, rushing over to her and staring at her hand. "What on earth happened?"
"I don't know," she muttered, the answer one of the more honest things she'd said in days. "I think I was just daydreaming and I kind of got lost in a thought."
"Sweetie…it's better to daydream when you're on the computer or something, not when you're pouring hot coffee." She sighed as she looked down at Phyllis' hand. "How's your hand—are the burns serious? Maybe we should take you to the hospital?"
"No, that's silly…I don't need to.." She flexed her fingers, wincing at the pain of the skin stretching.
"That's it," Lauren announced with defiance. "I'm gonna call Billy and let him come down here."
"No!"
Lauren looked at her in surprise. "Ooookay," she said slowly, holding her hands up in surrender. "I won't call Billy, but you need to tell me why."
She shook her head. "It's just..this is his first day back and I don't want him to think this is how it's gonna be. He worries so much as it is and this really isn't serious. I'm sure they'll just give me something to help the tissue heal or something like that. If you could drive me, it would make things a lot less complicated."
"I get it," Lauren sighed. "But let me let you in on a little secret," she whispered, "It' s kind of nice to have someone worrying about you."
