It was three days before Jeffrey finally checked out of the hospital. That was about how long it took for his voice to come back. Not completely, but he at least sounded like Jeffrey. He had finally accepted stronger painkillers to make it through the drive home. They had lay him out in the back seat of his mother's car. Alec would later tell them that he had slept for almost the entire ride. Skye drove back to Arundel with her family. It was only two hours, but that was a long time for her to be separated from Jeffrey. Jane could see it wearing on her. She spent much of her time texting on Iantha's phone. Her fingers flew at an impossible speed.
"Who are you talking to?" Jane tried for conversation. "Jeffrey?"
"Churchie," said Skye. "Jeffrey's asleep."
Good. He'd hardly slept at all at the hospital, only a couple of hours here and there.
"I need you to distract him for me when we get back," said Skye.
"Why?" said Jane.
"I'm going to do something for him."
"Ooh, intriguing."
Skye threw her a glare. "I'm not telling you what. Just distract him."
"Intriguing and mysterious. I love it. Consider it done."
It turned out that Jeffrey didn't need much distraction upon returning to Arundel. Whatever medication he was on either did not work or it had worn off. Skye was already gone. She didn't have to see it. Jane was glad for that. Skye didn't need to see him hurting.
Before Jeffrey was even out of the car, his pain made him shout. He couldn't move his leg. Alec helped him from the backseat, and Jeffrey crumpled into his father's arms. His leg hung dead, like a prosthetic limb he wasn't yet accustomed to. He was impossibly white and shown with sweat. Alec steadied him on his working leg.
Jeffrey's eyes glazed over. "Leave me alone," he gasped. "Don't touch me."
Alec dropped him, but Jeffrey couldn't stand on his own. He lost his balance and toppled backwards. Alec caught him again.
"Please don't hurt me," Jeffrey whimpered.
Alec was stricken. "I won't. Ever."
Jeffrey jerked against Alec's hands. Tears tumbled down his pale face. Alec loosened his grip but did not let go. Jeffrey was still leaning back, balancing on only his heel. Gravity would doom him. It looked like the aftermath of a trust fall, but right now, Jeffrey did not trust his father.
"Let me go," he begged. He cried out as he was rattled by another jolt of pain.
Whatever Jeffrey was seeing, it wasn't reality. Jane's throat closed. Grief shrouded her, acrid like smoke. The air was thick and fuzzy, like she was breathing through a pillow.
Mrs. Tifton had a bag of medical supplies and a pair of crutches in her hands. She dropped it all and rushed from the trunk of her car. "Jeffrey, it's Alec. It's your dad," she said, desperately trying to calm him. "You're home. You're safe. We want to help you."
She reached out to lay a soothing hand on his shoulder. He shrank back like she was about to hit him. It drew him closer to Alec. He jerked away again, terrified by contact. Jane sobbed.
"What have you done with Skye?"
Mrs. Tifton's tears fell like heavy rain. She looked at Alec for help, but he was equally lost. He was crying. "Nothing. She's inside. She's okay. Listen to me, honey. You're safe. No one wants to hurt you." She told him again that he was home.
Jeffrey looked around in a panic. His eyes slid back into focus and his fear faded. When he looked at his mother, Jane knew he was seeing her for the first time. He stopped fighting Alec. He turned his head toward his father and relaxed, inhaling and exhaling in rapid success.
"Alec." He whispered it as if to remind himself that was who was holding him.
"Yes," said Alec. His lip trembled, but he kept his voice steady. "I won't hurt you."
"I know," said Jeffrey. It was hard for him to talk. He hadn't been properly breathing. "I know. I – I wasn't here."
Jane stumbled back a step and knocked into Nick. He wrapped an arm around her. She could feel the quickened beat of his heart. She wasn't sure her own was functioning at all.
"You're safe, Jeffrey," Alec reiterated. "I won't let anyone touch you again. I promise."
"I know," said Jeffrey. He looked at each person's troubled face, all marred by the same misery. "I'm sorry. I saw – I thought…" He didn't finish.
Mrs. Tifton was already hugging him, so Alec embraced them both. Jeffrey accepted it, but he looked numb – still unsure of what was going on.
"You're okay," said Mrs. Tifton. "It wasn't real."
Jeffrey rested his chin over her shoulder and softly said, "Not anymore."
Jane threw her arms around Nick for support. "That was horrible," she cried.
"Yeah," Nick muttered, pulling her closer. "Yeah it was."
Jeffrey was clearly shaken. He skirted his gaze around the gardens like he was looking for someone – looking for Dexter. Jane didn't know how to help him. What could she possibly do? She despised all her books for giving her false expectations of recovery. Each of her literary heroes emerged from trauma virtually unscathed. Hermione Granger, tortured by Bellatrix, moved on like it was nothing. Percy Jackson held the weight of the sky, journeyed through literal hell and returned cracking jokes, still his god-like self. It was all a bunch of crap. She had wasted her time reading trivial YA fantasy. She should have read something substantial that would help her understand what she should do next.
It was foolish of her, but Jeffrey's flashback had blindsided her. In the days since his return, he had been cheerful and humorous, the same Jeffrey she had always known. He'd been hiding how much he was struggling. He couldn't hide it forever, now it had broken free. How stupid she had been not to understand that.
"What's happening to me?" said Jeffrey, full of pain and confusion.
Jane's heart went out to him, so much that it hurt. She hoped he knew how deeply she loved him. It was all she had to offer.
"We shouldn't have come here. I don't know what I was thinking," Mrs. Tifton fretted as she relinquished her hug. "Alec's apartment would be better. We'll go to Boston."
Jane had thought the same thing when Skye had returned. They had been taken out of Arundel, it was the worst place for them to be. Especially for Jeffrey. So much of his life at home had included Dexter. He would see him around every corner. Jane did, and he had never touched her.
"No, it's okay," said Jeffrey, though he didn't sound sure. "It was my leg. It made me remember."
He left it at that. Remember. That was all he needed to say.
"We can still go if that is easier for you," said Alec. "I don't really have room for all of you, but I can make it work. Put everyone in a hotel if I have to."
"Nick and I can leave, give you guys some space," Tommy spoke up, rather unenthusiastically. Rosalind clung to him, shaking her head.
Jeffrey agreed with her. "Stay. I like that you're here."
Jane had stopped hugging Nick, but she grabbed him again, more fiercely than before. She wasn't ready for him to go. He and Tommy were extensions of her family – family was what she needed most. She missed Ben and Lydia. She was worried about her little brother. She wondered how much he knew. He was aware something was wrong, but did he know just how wrong wrong was? He was so young, only seven. He still believed the world was a wonderful place. He didn't deserve to have that innocence stripped so soon. Jane hadn't truly lost hers until this.
"I'm okay here. I think," said Jeffrey. "I guess we'll find out. I'm tired of moving, I want to stay." Again he added "I think."
"Whatever you want, you got it," said Alec. Jeffrey leaned heavily into his shoulder.
Mrs. Tifton picked up Jeffrey's crutches and helped him fit them under his arms. He took an uncertain step and his mouth opened in a silent scream. His leg dragged across the pavement, twisting his broken ankle.
"You have to lift it, honey," said Mrs. Tifton. Her voice shot to a higher octave halfway through her sentence.
"I'm trying." Jeffrey grit his teeth. "I can't."
"You can. I'm sorry, I know it hurts," Mrs. Tifton encouraged him through an onslaught of tears. "You can, I promise."
Jeffrey glared at her as if to tell her that she knew nothing. He lifted his foot an inch from the ground. It took only the slightest bend of his knee, but he clamped his mouth shut to stop his shout. Jane still heard it.
Jeffrey wheezed through his pent up sobs. He moved one step at a time, pausing for several long seconds after each one. Alec stayed close behind him in case he fell. He almost made it to the front door, then he stopped.
"I'm going to be sick," he announced. "I need…I need to…to…"
He didn't vomit. He passed out. His crutches clattered against the pavement, but Alec didn't let him hit the ground. Jeffrey was dead weight in his arms, his face twisted from the effort of holding him up.
Mrs. Tifton released a shocked little scream. "What do I do?" she cried, frantic. "Do I call 911?"
Alec shook his head as he struggled to shift Jeffrey in his arms. "The doctor."
"Which one? His GP or the hospital?"
"I don't care, both," Alec gasped. He staggered and Jeffrey slipped closer to the floor. "We have to get him inside. I can't – I can't carry him."
"I can." Nick stepped up. "Army training." He pulled one of Jeffrey's arms over his shoulder, keeping his hand closed tight around his wrist. He squat down and curled his arm under Jeffrey's uninjured knee. When he stood, Jeffrey was draped over his shoulders. Nick carried him to safety like the soldier he was. He dumped Jeffrey's unconscious form onto a couch as gently as he could. Jeffrey didn't stir. He looked dead.
Mrs. Tifton hung up the phone. Her hand shook as she put her phone in her purse. She pushed Jeffrey's hair off his forehead. "They said we shouldn't worry. When he wakes up he'll need to eat something. Churchie?"
"It's already handled," Churchie promised.
Jeffrey started to twitch. Mrs. Tifton stopped touching him. For a moment, Jeffrey was still – peaceful, Jane might have called it – then he seized. His back arched off the couch. His body spasmed; a violent scream exploded from his throat. It smashed Jane's equilibrium, she stumbled blindly, barely catching herself before she fell. Jeffrey's legs floundered, broken knee and all. He screamed until his voice broke.
"Jeffrey, wake up!" Mrs. Tifton pleaded. She gently shook his shoulder. "Wake up, baby. Please."
He didn't. He convulsed again, nearly rolling from the couch. He muttered something unintelligible, then his jaw clenched. He bare his teeth against whatever pain he was reexperiencing. Jane could see every tendon in his neck. When he spoke again, she understood him. He begged for it to stop. "Kill me," he said. Jane sank to her knees, consciously, for she didn't want to exert the effort it took to stand.
Mrs. Tifton hunched over, clutching her stomach. "What did he do to him?" she moaned. As soon as the question was out she began to sob. She didn't for long. She straightened up and spun in a circle, scanning the room not once, but twice. "Where the hell is Skye?" she snapped.
"I know, I'll get her," said Churchie. She hurried off as Jeffrey shouted again in sheer agony.
They couldn't do anything but watch. Jeffrey would not wake up. Minutes passed before Skye arrived, but it felt like hours.
Mrs. Tifton lurched with relief when she saw her. "Help him!" she ordered. Her tone softened to a beg. "Please."
She didn't need to ask. Skye had already dropped next to Jeffrey, just as he let out another tortured cry.
"Hey it's okay," Skye murmured. "I'm right here, Jeffrey. It's okay." She glided her fingers through his hair, which was drenched with sweat. It was like she could see where he was hurting most. She traced her hand softly across his stomach, his neck, his arm hanging off the side of the couch. She followed his pain, combating it with a soothing touch. She kissed his temple and whispered comforting words. She promised he was dreaming. She was patient, she never once tried to wake him, only to calm him down.
Jane had never met this Skye. Not once. She was so gentle, so full of love and understanding. It was nothing Skye had ever been in the past. Somehow, through divine gifts and supernatural skill, she knew what Jeffrey needed. It took a long time, but he quieted. He stopped moving. Skye breathed a heavy sigh and shoved her hair back from her face. Several more minutes drained away (Fifteen? Forty-five? Jane didn't know), then Jeffrey finally opened his eyes.
"Hey, you," said Skye. She gave him a melancholy smile.
Jeffrey's gaze latched onto her. Jane could track his thought process. He was afraid, then confused, then he was almost knocked out again by relief. His arms shot out and looped around Skye's neck. He hugged her so aggressively Jane didn't know how she could be breathing. Perhaps she wasn't.
"I love you," Skye whispered.
Jeffrey's breaths were loud and shaky. He slid his arms down to Skye's back and pressed his face against her neck. "Say it again."
"I love you," she repeated. "I love you I love you I love you."
Tears rolled down Jeffrey's cheeks. "It still hurts."
Skye held the back of his head in her hand, her fingers tangled protectively in his hair. "It does," she agreed. She didn't that she was sorry. She didn't ask if he was okay. He wasn't, she already knew that.
Jeffrey choked back a sob. He was so close to falling apart. "How many times do I have to go through it again?"
Jane wanted to hug him, but Skye had that covered. All she could do was stare from her place on the floor and try to keep her own emotions under control.
Skye closed her arm tighter around his shoulders. "I'll be here," she promised. "Every time."
"He won't leave me alone," Jeffrey said miserably. "I can't take it. I can't." He muttered that under his breath too many times for Jane to count.
Jeffrey said it like Dexter was physically there, still deciding what kind of pain to put him in. It was that real for him. Jane's vision blurred from crying until Skye and Jeffrey were only vague shapes. It wasn't the same (not even close), but she couldn't take this either. Before they had come back, she'd had a perfect image of life if they returned safely – everyone happy and comfortable, with Dexter gone, never to be spoken of again. That had been a starry-eyed delusion. Dexter was everywhere. Jane thought that must have been why Dexter had given Jeffrey up. He was incarcerated, he couldn't touch him anymore. If Jeffrey died, he would at last be free. Alive, Dexter could continue to abuse him. He didn't have to see Jeffrey to know that he was tormented by his memory. Maybe it was for the same reason that he hadn't killed Skye.
Mrs. Tifton wasn't watching them anymore. When Jeffrey had asked how many times he would be forced to relive his pain, his mother had shattered. Jane had felt pieces of her rain down around her. Mrs. Tifton cried so hard that she was silent. She was folded completely in half, hurting so deeply she was incapable of standing straight. Her knees bent in a partial squat, Jane marveled at the fact that she hadn't completely fallen over. Tears and snot glittered on her face. She screamed and sobbed, all without making a single sound.
Alec stood next to her, but he didn't help her. He didn't move. There was no color in his face, shock was making him ill. He wasn't blinking; he stared without seeing. Jane ignored the rest of her family. She didn't care how they felt. She gawked at Skye. She was a hero, a God-given gift to planet Earth. She was the epitome of sweet and reassuring. Of nurturing. It should have made Jane feel warm and at peace with the world. It was exactly the kind of loving relationship she had always wanted for her sister and Jeffrey. She wasn't blessed with the pleasure of appreciating it now. Their love was despondent and ugly – it should have been beautiful. She adored the idea of them being a couple, but it wasn't worth this. If Dexter was what it took to bring them together, then they should have grown up, married different people, and lived separate lives. Hours ago Jane might not have thought that, but hours ago she hadn't known just how horribly Jeffrey could scream. Jane believed in soulmates, passionately so, but she also believed that a soulmate wasn't a person's one chance at happiness. Skye and Jeffrey would have been just fine living full lives never knowing what it was like to kiss each other, but also never knowing what it meant to be tortured. That blissful happiness wasn't in the cards anymore, not for any of them.
"She brought him back," Mrs. Tifton sobbed. "How did she do that?"
Alec shook his head in equal consternation.
His mother's voice drew Jeffrey's attention to the rest of the room. He blinked away his tears but did not dry them from his face. "I'm sorry," he said. "I don't know what happened."
Jane wanted nothing more than for him to stop apologizing for suffering. He took the weight of their sorrow on his shoulders, though it wasn't his burden to bare. It broke Jane's heart. It hadn't been put back together from the last time, yet it continued to fragment. It was in so many slivers and shards that it would never heal. Some pieces were lost forever. There would always be a hole in her heart where her innocence had once been.
"We were outside," said Jeffrey. He traced his steps to work through his disorientation. "What did I…when did we get here?"
"You passed out," said Alec. His voice clung to his throat, dragged out against its will. "We couldn't wake you up."
Jeffrey looked at his hands. He was embarrassed. Jane wanted him to stop that too. Pain shouldn't be embarrassing.
"So…you could tell?" he said quietly. He'd been so pale, but he was reddening quickly.
"You were screaming," said Mrs. Tifton.
Jeffrey swallowed and rubbed his left eye. "I'm sorry."
There is was again. Jane was angry. Not at Jeffrey, at Dexter. At the human mind for being hardwired for self-blame. He had done nothing wrong, but he would never see it that way. She could feel him reconstructing his walls. He wanted them to believe that he was fine. Jane's time falling for that was over. Twice in a single hour Jeffrey had been ripped back to Dexter's presence. Half of him was still held hostage; she longed to free that piece of him too. Jane had once loved psychology. The raw side of humanity was the backbone of every great story. The stories were lies. All of them. The human psyche was fragile. There was nothing great about that.
"No. No, honey. Don't be," said Mrs. Tifton.
"I love you, Jeffrey," Batty blurted out. She was stunned and confused. It was all she could think to say. Jane thought her little sister was brimming with hidden wisdom.
"Thanks," said Jeffrey. He turned his head toward the couch. "Do you think you could leave me alone for a little while?"
The request displeased them all, but if that's what Jeffrey wanted, then that's what they would do.
"Do you want me to go?" Skye asked once she was the only person left.
Jeffrey shook his head, still staring at the cushions in front of his face. "You've already heard me scream."
Skye thought again that she was grateful she had been with Jeffrey while she could. When he said things like that, she realized that he wouldn't be letting her in if he had been taken alone. She wanted to say how sorry she was that she hadn't been there for him during the worst of it, but she wouldn't force it on him if he didn't want to hear it. He was glad that she hadn't been, and not just because it meant she'd been safe. He was already too embarrassed.
"I ruined everything," said Jeffrey. He sniffed, then finally turned away from the couch. "Did you see their faces? They're scared of me."
"They're worried," Skye corrected. It was a halfhearted attempt to comfort him. She knew how he felt. Sometimes her family looked at her like they weren't sure they knew her anymore. She wanted to shout from the rooftops that she was still herself, the same Skye, but she wasn't. She hated that they all knew that.
"I had a flashback outside. Skye, it was so real." Jeffrey glowered at the ceiling. "I panicked right in front of them. Yeah, they're worried. That's why they're scared. They don't know what to do with me."
"They love you. They want to help," said Skye. "Let them."
Jeffrey's expression was blank. "Have you?"
"No," she reluctantly admitted.
"Then why do you think you can tell me to?" There was a moment of tense silence before Jeffrey regretted his harsh tone. He grabbed Skye's hand. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm not mad. You're right."
Skye's head spun a bit from his drastic shift in demeanor. She shook it off. "I get it if you are."
Jeffrey shook his head. "I'm just as scared as they are. I don't want things to change." His jaw tensed. "They think I'm this helpless victim, I'm not. They're making it worse."
He wasn't helpless, but he was vulnerable. She knew because she was. It was painful to admit. Skye spent half of her time denying that, and during the other half she was so overwhelmed and afraid that she forgot how to function. She had been careful to present only her denial to her family. Even Jeffrey hadn't seen the full extent of her struggle. She told herself she was being strong for him, but she was hiding it from him too. That made her a hypocrite. She had very little patience for hypocrisy.
"They're trying their best. I know that much," said Skye. And she was trying her best to appreciate them for it.
"I'm not helping them any," Jeffrey sighed. "I just wish I could control it, only freak out when they aren't around."
That wasn't healthy. Skye knew it, but she was doing precisely that. She had sobbed in the bathroom for an hour that morning and told no one. Jeffrey had thought she was with her family; her family had thought she was with Jeffrey. It had been risky; he'd been with his parents and her cover easily could have been blown, but she'd gotten away with her lies.
"Have you had any flashbacks or dreams about it?" asked Jeffrey. He almost sounded hopeful.
"Not like that." Though she had had her fair share of nightmares. Oncoming drowsiness always filled her with dread. Her subconscious would not allow her to forget how Dexter had felt. She woke up throbbing and sore like it had happened all over again. Her nerves played tricks on her. It didn't hurt any less now that it wasn't real.
Some of her most vivid dreams weren't memories. It frightened her that her brain could conjure up scenarios that were even worse. The previous night she had dreamt of scrubbing Jeffrey's blood and brains off the trailer walls after Dexter shot him, which was exactly what he had threatened her with. Fabricated image or not, she was haunted by Jeffrey's dead, unseeing eyes. She had awoken incapable of distinguishing her dream from reality. When she had found Jeffrey alive and without holes in his head, it had taken her several minutes to understand that she was really seeing him.
"So it's just me then," said Jeffrey with a sigh.
"It's coming for me, I can feel it. I think that's what we get for suppressing it all," Skye promised.
"It's not that I want you to," Jeffrey clarified. "But I think I'm going crazy. Like they'll have to check me into a hospital so I don't hurt myself." He caught the look on Skye's face. "I don't mean on purpose."
"I will hold you to that."
Jeffrey nodded slowly and absently. "Do you ever find it tempting?"
Skye's heart thudded to an abrupt stop. She opened her mouth to tell him that if he killed himself she would drag him straight to hell, but the word that came out of her mouth was "Sometimes."
Jeffrey picked at a scab on his lip. "I won't do that to my parents. I'm sure of that, but if it wasn't for them, or for you, then I don't know. I think I'd be happier jumping out a window."
There is no darker moment that realizing that you aren't living for yourself anymore. That was what Skye had discovered the night she had flooded Jeffrey's bathroom. She had stared at his razor on the counter and fantasized about slicing it through her wrists. She never would have done it, though she was ashamed to admit that she hadn't thought about her family once. Jeffrey was the only person that had stopped her from bleeding out in his bathtub. He had tied her to her life.
"If you would have died, I think I would have done it." She swallowed hard. "I would have tried to kill myself. Not that you're all I have to live for or anything."
"Good. That's too much pressure," Jeffrey cut in.
"It's just hurting that much, after everything else? That wasn't a fight I wanted to try to win. This one is already impossible." Skye took a deep breath. "I even thought about how I would do it. So yes, it's tempting."
"Still?" Jeffrey traced patterns over the back of her hand with his index finger.
"Yes. But I won't do it either."
"Promise?"
"Only if you do."
Jeffrey nodded, a silent oath, but one Skye trusted just the same. She wasn't suicidal, but she did understand the appeal. Death was the one place where Dexter couldn't follow her. That wasn't something she ever could have said before. The thought scared her.
"Do you think you can walk? Just down the hall a bit?" She was ready for a distraction.
Jeffrey shrugged. "I can try."
"I have an idea that might help us forget all of this for a while."
Jeffrey hauled himself into a sitting position. "Then let's do it. This is depressing."
Skye almost laughed. That wasn't a big enough word. There wasn't one strong enough to describe how this felt.
She grabbed Jeffrey by his elbows and pulled him to his feet. His chest contracted so that he wouldn't make a sound. He gathered his crutches and leaned all of his weight on them, already breathing hard. He glanced at the small table next to the couch.
"Can you hand me that?" He pointed at a lace doily stained with a light ring of coffee. Skye handed it to him and he folded it into quarters. "I don't want them to hear me." He stuck it between his teeth.
Skye's surprise momentarily froze her. She would have thought that having any sort of cloth in his mouth again would horrify him. It horrified her. He had strength that Skye didn't. She could hardly look at it. The rest of the house might not have heard him, but Skye did. Sometimes Jeffrey was alright, but others the pain overwhelmed him and he cried out. It was muted like he wanted it to be, but Skye had to fight back tears. It was too familiar, exactly what he had sounded like gagged. She bit her lip to keep herself quiet too. She focused on making sure he didn't fall so that she wouldn't think about all the horrible things Dexter had made Jeffrey say to him like that.
One of Jeffrey's crutches slipped on the hardwood floor and he almost lost his balance. Skye grabbed his waist, steadying him with both hands.
"Are you okay?"
Jeffrey nodded and pushed the doily further into his mouth with his thumb. They were almost there. It took maybe ten more steps and half as many outcries from Jeffrey before they reached the correct door.
Skye's confidence left her. She wasn't sure why she was putting herself through this. She could remember what her initial thought process had been, but now she wasn't sure this was necessary. She didn't want Jeffrey to tease her, then she might fade completely into shame. Her hand was on the doorknob, but she hesitated to open it. She looked back at Jeffrey, hoping to gain some courage, but he only made her more anxious.
Jeffrey plucked the doily from his mouth and stuck it in his front pocket. "I'm good. I'm getting better with these." He waved one of his crutches. "That wasn't that bad."
He'd essentially gagged himself so he wouldn't scream, but sure. It wasn't that bad. Skye didn't comment on that. "It's not that. I'm just nervous."
"Why?"
"You'll see." Skye opened the door a fraction of an inch, then looked back to stare him down fiercely. "Don't be a dick."
"You hurt me."
With no more excuses to procrastinate, Skye swung the door open. The guest room was almost exactly as she had left it, but Skye could tell that Churchie had made a few small adjustments. Skye had been wise to enlist her help. It had almost been entirely Churchie's idea; Skye had only presented her with the initial skeleton of a plan. The bed had been pushed into the corner, the mattress was sitting on the floor and facing the TV. Skye had asked Churchie to prepare a simple dinner, but the woman couldn't comprehend simple. She had lay out a plate of small sandwiches, a full charcuterie board (a bit over the top, in Skye's opinion), and a tray of brownies. Skye's stomach fluttered. She didn't think she could eat any of it. She'd lit the room with candles herself.
Skye faced completely away from Jeffrey. Her face was heating up. She hoped the candlelight would hide her flush.
"Oh my god," Jeffrey said slowly. She could hear the way she was smiling. It made her palms sweat.
Jeffrey poked her in the back. "Is that you, Skye Penderwick?"
Skye crossed her arms and refused to even glance at him. "Treading close to dickishness there, bud." Perhaps the casual term would offset the embarrassingly romantic setting.
Jeffrey swung himself forward until he was directly behind her. The hairs on Skye's arms stood up. Jeffrey dropped one of his crutches. He curled his arm around her stomach and pulled her back half a step so that she was pinned against him. His erratic heartbeat thumped against her back.
"You're breaking your rules," he whispered.
"They're my rules to break." She cursed her thieving anxiety. It stole her breath.
Jeffrey brushed his lips over her ear. It was hardly a kiss, more like he was learning how it felt. "You hate this stuff."
"But you don't."
Jeffrey attempted to twist her around, but Skye resisted him.
"Don't look at me."
"I'm not." He tried again. Skye let him turn her.
"Relationships are about sacrifice, right?" she said.
Jeffrey's only response was to kiss her. Skye's anxiety didn't subside. It exploded and devoured her, but oddly, she no longer minded. Her legs were jelly. Jeffrey was shaking from the effort of standing straight; Skye held them both up. Her back strained and ached. Pain was with them in whatever they did. Just once Skye wanted to kiss him without hurting, without using it to forget Dexter. She hated what her stubbornness had cost her. Jeffrey would never be just her boyfriend. That was a lost opportunity. Their relationship would always be tainted by their experience. A tear rolled into her mouth. She gasped and sucked Jeffrey's breath in with her own. She could hardly kiss him without crying. Another tear fell and Jeffrey kissed it away at the side of her nose.
Skye forgot to be embarrassed about her gesture. She finally looked into Jeffrey's face. He pitched sideways and she lay her hands on his chest to stabilize him. He held his arm tighter around her waist. "When you were missing, I told myself I would do all the stupid couple things I've ever made fun of," she said. The scene swam with her tears, but they had stopped falling. "And that wasn't the strict truth, but I can do some of it."
Jeffrey's teeth slid over his lip as he smiled. "You're cute, and I love you."
"Don't call me cute."
That made him laugh. "Technically that wasn't one of your rules."
"Now it is."
Jeffrey brushed back her hair and held her face. His second crutch fell. He only swayed for a second. Skye braced her arm under his. He winced as he dropped his broken foot gingerly to the floor, but he did regain his balance.
"I'm not always a rule follower." When he kissed her again, Skye couldn't remember her retort.
They broke apart when Jeffrey almost fell. "I need to sit down," he said, annoyed.
Skye helped him stumble to the mattress. He flopped onto it rather hard, but it didn't seem to hurt him. He pushed one of the candles safely away from his foot.
"You could have burned the house down," he said.
Skye sat next to him on the bed and crossed her legs. "Good riddance. I hate this place."
"I'm trying not to."
Skye didn't respond to that. She was too busy working up the courage for something else. She had quickly discovered that she was a coward when it came to all things romance. She told herself to pull it together. Jeffrey shouldn't intimidate her. It wasn't really him; it was her feelings, vulnerability. So much of her armor had been smashed through recently, and she was reluctant to give up what little she had left. With her pulse pounding in her ears, she reached into her back pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper.
"This is for you." She held it out for him, but when he reached for it, she snatched it back. It crinkled as her hand closed into a nervous fist.
"What is it?" Jeffrey said through a grin, not at all making her feel better.
"My biggest fear," said Skye. She tossed the paper at him before she changed her mind and burned it to ash with one of her candles.
Jeffrey cautiously grabbed it while he watched her out of the corner of his eye. He expected her to dive for it. The thought had crossed her mind.
"You gave me a list. All the things you like about me," said Skye. She hated how her voice shook. "That's mine."
Now Jeffrey looked nervous. He held her gaze until Skye was forced to drop it before her jitters killed her. Jeffrey unfolded it and turned it in his hand.
"Long list." His voice quivered the same way Skye's had.
"I had days to think about it." She had filled the page, front and back.
Jeffrey started to read it and a blush crept across his cheekbones. Then he started to smile. "You like that I purposefully annoy you?"
Skye dragged the collar of her shirt up to cover her face. "No commentary, please. I'm already self-conscious."
Jeffrey pulled her shirt back down, but he listened to her and said nothing else. Skye couldn't watch him read it. She had put the superficial reasons first, they got deeper as the list went on. She wrote about how she had never felt like she had to reach his expectations; he let her be her own person. He was patient with her and her tendency to be difficult. He understood her when she didn't understand herself. He respected her feelings despite the fact that she hadn't done a good job of respecting his. He had an irritating habit of getting her out of every bad mood that he put her in. That was why she had stopped talking to him for so long. She had been determined to stay mad, but he never let her. He was the only person that made her realize that she didn't always have to be right. He had an uncompromising faith in her. He was the most genuine person she knew, and she was the best version of herself when she was with him.
At the bottom of her list, she had allowed her reasons to take a darker turn. She loved him for everything he had done for her. She was honest about how his reluctant rendition of Hamilton had helped her – just a little, but it had been enough. When she had first been raped, his incessant rambling about whatever nonsense had come to his mind had been (and would always be) the greatest gift she received. It had enabled her to find moments when assault wasn't at the forefront of her thoughts. His voice had pulled a small corner of her mind away from that nightmare and given it peace. He'd known what Dexter wanted to do to him, and he had put her first. He had always done that. His own needs came second to that of his friends and family. He was selfless. No one had a bigger heart. These were all things that she needed him to know, and she was too afraid to say them out loud.
When Jeffrey finished reading it, he was crying. "I don't know what to say. Thank you."
"Keep that," said Skye. She turned his face toward her. They were inches apart. He tried to kiss her, but she touched her fingers to his mouth and stopped him. "I know you think about it all the time – what Dexter said to you, what he made you say. Whenever you do, I want you to read that. Read it until you memorize it. That list is everything I love about you, and it's every reason that Dexter was wrong. He lied, Jeffrey. I promise you, it was a lie. But all of this?" Skye pressed the paper harder into Jeffrey's hand. "It's so, so true."
Jeffrey closed his eyes, but a few tears managed to squeeze through. "I feel like I'm his. I really do," he admitted. When he opened his eyes again, his tears were gone, but his pain wasn't. "He's gone and it's like he took me with him. I can't get away."
"He can't have you," said Skye. "You're mine. Forever."
"I don't deserve you, Skye."
"Yes, you do. Forever and then some, sorry." She pushed him back onto the mattress. She would kiss him until he understood that.
A/N: Bless my abnormal psych class and it's chapter on PTSD because that shit is hard to write