"Morning will come and I'll do what's right. Just give me till then to give up this fight."

SIX

I know that Happy rushed through his shower because he was worried I'd leave while he was bathing. It was obvious from how fast he was and the look of utter relief on his face when he almost raced into the kitchen wearing a low hanging pair of sweats and a wife beater. He looked so good, tattoos on full display, that I was worried I would start drooling. Or jump on him in the middle of the kitchen and use him for the orgasm I was desperate for.

No matter how stupid it made me feel or how badly he'd broken my heart, my body was a traitorous bitch and was still yet to flip the switch to turn off my attraction to him. The reality was no matter how badly he'd hurt me, I'd never get over the way that my body reacted to him or begged for me to reach out and touch him.

"I'm still here." I gave him a small smile from my spot at the island. "I didn't go anywhere."

He tried to play nonchalant and act like nothing was out of the normal, but I could see the twinkle in his eye when he thought that I wasn't paying attention. "Good. You could have warned me that there was no hot water, though."

Happy replaced the two empty beers sitting on the island that we'd finished before he'd gotten in the shower to clean up, then stood awkwardly beside me like he didn't know what to do with himself. "Do you, uh- Would you rather sit here or on the couch?"

I was frazzled enough to actually have to consider it. The couch would be more comfortable and, hopefully under the less harsh lights the truth wouldn't hurt so much. But the island was closer to the beer and the front door if I needed to make a quick getaway. "Here."

It was as if I'd said the words out loud and he knew exactly where my thoughts laid when he looked towards the doorway with unease and then took a seat next to me.

We settled into another silence, something that we'd been doing for the hour that he'd been home. It wasn't the same silence that we'd once shared on a regular basis; even though it wasn't awkward, there was a still a lot of anxious tension and timidness hanging in the air between us, nothing calm about it.

"Gemma called me." I decided that I needed to stop beating around the bush and jump straight into the deep end with the hopes that I wouldn't drown. "She's worried about you."

Happy began to abuse the label on the beer bottle in front of him. "She shouldn't have done that, it isn't any of her business."

"You're being reckless, Happy." I hated the worry in my voice. "She's worried that you're going to end up in prison again. Or worse, dead."

Happy shrugged his shoulders like what I'd said meant nothing to him. "I'm being careful."

"Going on runs by yourself isn't careful." I snarled. "What the actual fuck are you doing, Hap? Are you purposely doing stupid shit to get yourself hurt?"

Dark brown, almost black eyes flicked from the bottle up to stare at me. "No."

The problem was that I could read him as well as he could read me, and I instantly knew that he was lying to me. "You are. Why would you do that, Hap? How could you do that? Don't you know how dangerous what you're doing is?"

The bottle in his large hands started receiving the punishment from the emotions he was feeling all over again, and I laid my hand over his to try and get him to focus on the conversation we need to have. "Talk to me. Tell me what's going on. Let me help."

He looked at where my skin was making contact with his own for a long time while he contemplated what he could say. I think the amount of times that I'd called him 'Hap' since I'd reappeared in his life was taking a toll on his sanity, as well.

"You didn't come back." Happy said simply, keeping his voice carefully blank of emotion. "You didn't come back. And no matter how much I wish you did and what I do to keep my mind busy, or how much I clean the house in case you do, I know that you're not. You're not coming back. Even if you're here right now, you've already said that you're going to leave again as soon as you think I'm better."

I went to tell him that what he'd said didn't really give me the answers that I'd asked for, but he cut off my words before I could even open my mouth. "I don't see what the point is in putting my brothers at risk when they've all got families or Old Ladies to go home to."

It was so simple to him, so easy. I'd left and he didn't feel like it was a problem putting himself at risk as long as his brothers were safe, because I wasn't there to go home to at the end of the run.

You idiotic man.

"I didn't come back because I needed time to process, get over it and sort my head out." I explained. "Not because I don't care. It would kill me if something happened to you, surely you know that."

Whatever his reply was going to be, I'll never know for certain.

We both jumped as my phone started to scream my ringtone, breaking the bubble that we'd found ourselves in during the midst of our conversation, and I looked down at the screen of my second phone.

Tangerine, Tangerine, living reflection from a dream. I was her love, she was my queen. And now a thousand years between.

The guilt in my stomach at seeing Ryan's name flashing at away at me, but it was nothing compared to the guilt I felt when I saw the look on Happy's face. There was no jealousy or anger, just something that looked a hell of a lot like devastation, like he knew exactly who Ryan was without me having to open my mouth.

I've got to get this, I've got to tell him that I'm okay. I tried to make the words come out, but I couldn't say anything.

"Are you going to get that?"

My eyes ran over Ryan's name that was still flashing on my screen while Robert Plant sung to me and I shook my head. I knew that I needed to pick it up and that he deserved an explanation as to what was going on, but I turned it over so that it faced the marble bench top next to the burner that Happy had bought me, and put it on mute so I couldn't hear the rest of the song. "No, I'll call him back later."

"You didn't have to come back here." He changed the subject rapidly. "Gemma shouldn't have called you, but you didn't have to come back here. So why did you?"

I flicked my eyes back and forth between his own. "Happy, we might not be together anymore, but you should know that I'll always come running as soon as you need me. You should know that I'm always here for you."

He ran his tongue along his teeth and then turned his face away from me in order to take a long sip of his beer. "I don't get why."

"Neither do I." I admitted out loud without thinking.

He didn't look back at me for a long time and didn't comment further on the situation. "You look so different to the girl I met the day I got out of prison."

Nervous butterflies, paranoia and insecurity buzzed in my stomach. "Bad different?"

Happy finally looked at me again and made a show of raking his eyes from my bare feet to the top of my head. I didn't fail to notice the way that his gaze had paused on my arm on the spot that he'd tattooed his Patch for me. It was covered by his shirt, which seemed to put him on edge. "Not bad different. Just not my little girl."

It's because I'm not your fucking little girl anymore.

I'm not sure who I am without you, but I'm not your little girl.

"What's up with how skinny you've gotten?" He asked gruffly, straight to the point. "Are you not eating? Not taking care of yourself the way you should be?"

I wanted desperately to tell him that I was more than fine and thriving without him, just on a new diet that was going really well in my new found happiness in life. But I knew that he would know I'd been lying to him as soon as the words passed my lips, he knew me too well. "I had a hard time eating at first. Now I just never really get hungry or I'm too busy to eat. I can't eat that much anymore, anyway."

My explanation made him growl the same way that would usually have me naked underneath him, panting and screaming his name. Even the fact that he was almost yelling at me didn't stop me from pushing my thighs together in the hopes of getting rid of some of the pressure building there. "You've got to fucking take care of yourself, Tori! You can't just be too busy to eat. Make some fucking time in your day and get a fucking meal."

Even though it pissed me off that he was berating me, I knew that it only came from a place of worry because he cared, so I took the abuse with a shake of my head.

If I'd opened my mouth to reply, I would have said that he was a hypocritical dickhead for telling me that I should be taking care of myself while he was the one going out on runs by himself. I chose to pull out two cigarettes, light them and hand one of them to him.

"What are you doing, living off fucking nicotine, whiskey and coffee?" He snarled, tone still deadly but his voice had finally lowered to a normal level and I took that as a win.

I smirked. "Spot on, baby."

The pet-name was a slip of the tongue, something that I hadn't meant to say, and it left me feeling overly exposed and wishing that I could take the whole thing back. It made the glare disappear off Happy's cheeks and a soft blush appear there.

That's new.

"Need to get off the coffee." He sighed when he ran his fingertips over his face. "You drink too much of the shit, it's going to give you a heart attack."

I struggled my shoulders noncommittally. "Me giving up coffee is never going to happen."

"I know." Happy ran his eyes over my entire body again. "Your hair looks good. I almost didn't recognise you."

I tugged on the bottom of the blonde locks that ended at my shoulders, so unlike the last time he'd seen me when it was still almost black and longer. "I needed a change. Do you not like it?"

"It looks good." He repeated again. "You know I think that you're beautiful no matter what colour your hair is. Fuck, I think you look beautiful at three in the morning sitting on the kitchen floor eating ribs with sauce all over your face with my shirt and your odd socks."

I involuntarily got drawn in to the memory he'd brought up. He'd found me on the floor of the kitchen with his gun in his hand and a serious look on his face, worried that something had happened when he'd woken up and found my side of the bed empty and cold. He'd chuckled at me, walked past the light switch without flicking it on, and then sat next to me and began eating off my plate without a word.

For all of the bad times that we'd had together, there were a hundred good - and a hundred great - that made them seem nonexistent. The good far outweighed the bad.

Even if it hurt to admit it.

Happy watched me yawn when the days events and emotional havoc I'd been in caught up to me. "Why don't you go and crash, little girl?"

My feet swung away from the stool and I stood up to my full height, cracking my back. "Yeah, I should get going, it's really late."

"Where are you staying?" He raised an eyebrow.

I slipped both of my phones in my back pocket without bothering to look at the one that had been ringing. "At the hotel in town-"

"Just stay here tonight." He'd tried to say it casually, but I could hear the desperation in his voice. He was worried that I would leave, the same as he had been when he was showering.

When I went to turn down the idea and say that it wasn't appropriate, Happy reached out and gripped my hip. It resulted in butterflies swarming in my stomach and goosebumps on my flesh. "You can have our bed, I'll sleep on the couch. I'm wiped out from the run, and I won't get any sleep if I don't know that you're safe. If you're stuck in some dodgy hotel room, I'm going to be sitting out on my bike all night to make sure that nobody goes near you."

I wanted to ask him why he felt so strongly about my whereabouts and what difference it made to him whether I was sleeping in a hotel room or not. I wanted to ask him why he would sleep outside overnight to make sure that nobody came near my room, and why he was such a caveman about someone who he hadn't seen in thirteen months. I wanted to tell him that I couldn't stay in the room that I'd once shared with him because it smelt too much like him. That I couldn't do it, because I was genuinely worried that it would kill me.

"Okay." I gave in without argument. "Okay, I'll stay in the bed tonight, but it's not permanent. I'm only staying because I'm dead on my feet and I won't be able to sleep at the hotel knowing that you're outside all night. I'm going to move back there tomorrow."

His need to fight me on it and tell me that there was no way in hell that I'd be moving anywhere was on his face, but he hung his head in defeat and just walked me to our bedroom.

The urge to vomit clawed up my throat when I looked at the spot that we'd slept together a year previously. I forced the thought from my mind and the need to empty my stomach contents down when I pulled off my jeans and dropped them by the foot of the bed.

Although he didn't say anything, he watched my every movement with hawk-like attention while I undressed.

Neither of us spoke when he pulled back the sheets for me or when I crawled underneath them, but I did notice that the new sheets he'd purchased were sunflower yellow, the same as the cushions on the swing outside. If it had been under any other circumstance, I would have been overwhelmed that he'd gone to the trouble – or even thought about it – to find bedding in my favourite colour. But my emotions were already raw, and I was overwhelmed with everything else that had transpired.

"Goodnight, little girl."

I didn't reply but followed him with my eyes when he flipped off the light switch by the door and made his way down the hallway. I listened to him drop down on the couch with a long sigh, a few seconds later the television turned on to bathe the house in a low hum.

I needed to call Ryan back but I couldn't bring myself to when I was surrounded in Happy's scent and weighed down by the crushing need to figure out why all of the anger that I'd felt at him had disappeared as soon as I'd seen his stupidly perfect face.

I'd spent thirteen months of my life trying to convince myself that I was fine without him. Sure, admittedly I'd spent more time crying than I did smiling, and felt like I was breaking down the middle constantly. But I was breathing. I was breathing and surviving, holding down a job and renting my own apartment, and I was doing it all without him.

No, maybe I wasn't living. But I was surviving.

I was surviving.

While I thought of him laying down on the couch watching the television, the niggling thought came to the forefront of my brain: How was I supposed to walk away from him? How was I supposed to ensure that he would stop making idiotic decisions that put his life at risk, and then go back to a life that I'd created without him? How was I meant to leave him again when it had almost killed me the first time?

And why was I so fucking weak that the idea of leaving Charming – of leaving him – tore every piece of thread I'd created in my heart to sew up the tear he'd created by cheating? The tear I'd helped create by leaving?

It was close to three in the morning and I hadn't slept at all, too busy lost in my thoughts and self sabotage of smelling his pillow, when I heard the door creek open. His side of the bed dipped with his body weight and I felt my breath stop.

His touch was hesitant when he put his hand on my hip and slid closer so that my back was pressed to his chest, it was clear that he thought I'd been sleeping. Slowly, as if he were trying not to make any sudden movements and wake me up, he lifted my head so that he could slip his arm underneath my pillow and entwined his hands together around my stomach.

Half of me wanted to stay silent and pretend that I was asleep so I could see if he would sneak out with sunrise before I woke up for the day, or if he'd stay in bed beside me for the whole time and wait to see my reaction when I caught him next to me in the morning.

The other half of me won out and I hated myself for being so weak that I let it.

A single tear slipped down the side of my face when I put my hand overtop of his and entwined my small fingers with his large ones, then pulled them tight against my stomach.

For the first time in over a year, I felt safe.

Happy moved his head down and kissed the side of my neck just behind my ear, the same way that he'd done on a regular basis once upon a time, before he nestled his nose into my hair and sighed. "Is this okay, little girl?"

No, it's not okay.

I have a boyfriend and I'm trying to get over you.

It's not okay.

It's not okay to feel this way, or to miss you this much.

It's not okay to love you this much.

It's not okay, it's not okay, it's not okay.

"It's okay."