Part Twenty-Six
Morning came very, very late. Well, actually, she realized, morning had come right on time, but she and El were so fucking exhausted that they slept through a good portion of it. Not that she minded in the least. Not when oversleeping meant waking up with a big yawn and deliciously aching muscles and an intoxicatingly gorgeous man snuggling up behind her. She stretched and rolled over, wishing she had the energy to kiss him awake and resume their activities.
But when she looked up at him, she found his eyes were open, clear blue pools watching her silently. She smiled, testing the waters, hoping she'd been right about the pills, praying he hadn't taken one when she wasn't looking.
He grinned back at her, his hands moving to pull her tight against his chest. "Please tell me I didn't forget anything else."
Her heart seemed to skip a beat as she thought, feared, that his memory lapses might have had nothing to do with the sleeping pills.
But he winked at her, his fingers playing along her backbone. "I remember fucking you senseless."
She giggled, glad she wasn't going to have to explain all they'd done to someone who didn't remember doing it. "How many times?"
"More than I can count." He leaned toward her, pressing his lips to hers softly, a more affectionate kiss than a prelude to anything else.
"Yeah, that sounds about right." She kissed him a second time, allowed him to kiss her a third time, and then instigated a fourth, more seductive kiss. It took a lot of energy to pull herself away. "As tempted as I am, El, I'm not sure either one of us will survive it."
"Right. We need food first." He grinned, his arms not releasing her. "Think someone will deliver out here?"
"If not, don't look at me." She yawned and stretched, her muscles complaining their happy reminder of the night's activities. The only really uncomfortable part of her was the sticky remnants of their love making between her thighs. "I think I'm going to take a shower."
Elliot groaned. "I guess that means I'm making breakfast."
"Unless you want to starve."
"And I should probably think about shoveling out the van."
Just thinking about it made her shiver, snuggling further into his arms. "Why? Are we going somewhere?"
The carefree light in his eyes disappeared as he sat up. "I don't like the idea of not being able to get out of here. In case that bastard shows up."
Shivering from both the idea and the loss of his body heat, Olivia got up, demurely tucking the sheet around herself, feeling stupid at the thought that there was any modesty left after how thoroughly they'd explored one another. Still, her hands dug into the cotton sheet, wishing it were thicker to dispel the chill of the thought of that night, those cold blue eyes, the asshole who'd tried so hard, and nearly succeeded, in taking Elliot away from her. The sex had distracted her from it, from the reason why they were there. She infinitely preferred the safe, secure bubble they'd been enveloped in while in bed together.
Elliot knew her, he always had, recognizing the mod shift in his partner. He stood up, not bothering with any nod to modesty, crossing around the bed to put his hands on her shoulders. "Liv, I'm not going to let him get to you. I swear to you."
She nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. "I know." She shrugged, feeling his hands fall from her shoulders and wishing that she hadn't moved at all. "I guess I'm not used to being the victim, you know?"
"You're not a victim. Some prick attacked you, but we're going to get him and I'm going to keep you safe." His hands moved again, reaching out to slide across her cheeks. "Something bad happened to you, Liv, but it's not going to define you. You're not a victim. Remember that."
Nodding, she turned away. She didn't want to think about the depth of emotion in his words. She didn't want to think about the truth either because of the ramifications it would have on her partner. Not only had he broken quite a few laws to protect her, but she knew she'd probably devastated him by refusing to believe him.
She took two steps toward the door before she thought about the loving way he'd practically worshiped her body combined with how much he'd sacrificed for her safety and she couldn't leave him without saying anything. Turning back, she smiled at him as he pulled his boxers over his hips. "Thank you, El, that really means a lot."
He paused long enough to offer her a nod, but he didn't say anything else. He headed into the living room, where she'd last seen his bag. She waited at the door, watching as he dressed, wondering what was wrong, knowing she'd done something stupid. Relationships weren't her forte. Luckily, most of the time, she just didn't care enough that she'd hurt someone. It served a good purpose then, she didn't care so she didn't need to know how to fix it. But with Elliot, she did care. And she'd never figured out how to fix things with him because, she realized with a sudden shock, he'd never let her see so blatantly that she'd fucked something up, certainly not by hurting his feelings.
Wincing, she hurried through the living room and ducked into the bathroom. As irritated as she was with herself, she was pissed off at him too. No, she didn't have any fucking clue how to deal with him when he got moody, no more of an idea than she ever had, it was a shortcoming she'd have to come to terms with. But he was the one who'd changed the rules, who'd turned everything upside down, so he should have been expecting her to make a few missteps along the way.
As soon as she closed the bathroom door, she knew she needed to calm down. She'd made the decision to trust him and she felt at peace with that decision. Elliot had always been moody and pissy, especially with her. He wasn't acting any different from how he'd always been with her. He'd been sweet and kind and giving as a lover, displaying a softer side that she'd never seen, revealing the way he really felt for her, assuring her his declaration of love had been true.
Which allowed her to realize exactly what the problem was. He'd said he loved her. He'd said it twice.
And she hadn't said a damn thing to let him know that she loved him. No wonder he'd been hurt.
She opened the door, wanting to correct her mistake before it had the chance to fester and hurt him more. He was at the front door, bundled up, holding the shovel in his hand. She was still wrapped in the sheet, already ice cold from the air he was letting in.
"El, can you wait a minute?"
He met her eyes for a moment, just long enough for her to see that his walls were back up. "It snowed again during the night, so I've got a lot to clear out."
She wanted to be angry herself, pissed off that all the closeness they'd found during the night could be erased so quickly and unintentionally, but she couldn't say that she would have been willing to listen to him if the situation had been reversed. So rather than rolling her eyes and slamming the door behind her like she would have, she swallowed her own irritation with his behavior and nodded.
"Ok, we'll talk when you come back in."
He stared at her, searching her eyes to see what she really meant that she wasn't saying. Unable to find what wasn't there, he shrugged. "Whatever." And then he was the one to slam the door.
She stepped back into the bathroom, glancing between the tiny shower stall and the giant Jacuzzi tub, making her decision instantly. Not only was a nice, warm bath the best way to relax her aching muscles, but it would help relax the tension gathering in her shoulders. While the tub was filling with steaming water, she rolled her head around, trying to ease the tension, trying to redirect her attention to the pleasant ache of her legs.
Sitting on the edge of the tub, she watched the water, waiting for it to get deep enough to slip into. She scratched idly at her calf, appalled at the sharp points of hair that her hand found. She shaved every day, but she hadn't had the opportunity since Elliot had carted her off to the wilderness. Elliot hadn't said a word about the gross state of her legs, and he'd certainly gotten a good feel of them, but she was mortified. His razor was lying next to the sink and she figured he wouldn't mind if she borrowed it. Especially not if he got to inspect the difference.
And she hoped he would – as soon as they talked.
She snagged his razor and the soap he left in the shower before she lowered herself into the steaming water. She made an attempt to actually wash herself, getting as far as soaping up the washcloth before she decided it was too much work. Instead, she lay back, resting her head against the back of the tub and luxuriating in the oversized length that allowed her to submerge both her shoulders and her legs at the same time.
The heat of the water surrounding her reminded her of Elliot's protective embrace, lulling her to sleep so she could replenish enough energy to curl up with the real thing. As her eyes drifted closed, she thought about shaving, eventually deciding she was too tired to care.
The water was just starting to cool when she heard Elliot's voice outside the door. "Hey, Liv? I'm going to start breakfast."
She wondered how he'd gotten the van all shoveled out already, but she was more concerned with the water and spent her energy working the hot knob with her toes. The water was infused with warmth once again and her attention turned to the razor. She curled her fingers around the green plastic handle, knowing she wanted to have soft, smooth, freshly shaved legs for the next time Elliot felt them, but she was too comfortable just then to worry much about it. As she slipped back to sleep, she didn't even register when the razor slipped from her fingers.
She heard him knocking again, but she was too comfortable to really notice.
She couldn't ignore it though when she heard his shout and the noise of him crashing through the door.
"Oh my god, Olivia!"
She didn't even have time to wake up fully before he was there, jumping in the tub, sending cascades of water spilling over the side.
"Olivia! No!" His arms were around her, pulling her up, his knees on either side of her hips. "Jesus, Olivia, what did you do!"
She pushed against his chest, trying to get a hold on his shirt, but she realized he wasn't wearing one. Just his soaked jeans, unconcerned with himself as he yanked her out of the water. "El, what-"
The panic on his face seeped through her foggy mental state, as did the way he was trying to lift her out of the tub while he was still kneeling in it.
"Jesus, Olivia, no, please, god no!"
She tried to grab at him, his neck, his face, to get him to look her in the eye. "El, stop!"
He dropped her body back into the water, reaching for her hands, pulling her wrists up to his face. "Liv?" He didn't find what he was looking for, his eyes finally turning to hers, full of tears.
"El, what's wrong?" The last of the sleep was gone, but the confusion remained. Very little would explain her half dressed partner climbing in the tub with her. Had he been entirely undressed and considerably less panicked, she could have understood him joining her, especially given how they'd spent the night. But half dressed and panicking, no, she was at a loss.
His chest was heaving as he gulped breath down, his whole body seeming to deflate, his head hanging as his tears continued to pour out.
"El? What? Tell me." She leaned toward him, all traces of modesty aside as she moved to cup his cheeks. But when she moved her hand, she heard the razor clatter to the floor, pushed off the edge of the tub. And then she realized what he'd thought when she'd been asleep and unresponsive, her hand sitting next to the razor she hadn't bothered to use.
"Oh, god, El, no, I didn't- I wouldn't- I-" She choked up before she could happen upon a coherent thought. Instead she reached for him again, her arms sliding around his shoulders, pulling him to her, feeling him offer no resistance. He sobbed into her skin, his face pressed into her shoulder, his tears sliding into the water. Her hand rested on the back of his head, trying to soothe him, wanting to reassure him, needing to comfort him. "Shhh, El, it's ok. I'm ok."
His arms wound around her waist, lifting her top half once again. "Oh, god, I," Elliot sniffled, "I thought it was too late. I thought you- oh, god, Liv, I'll take you home. I'll take you home if you're that scared, baby, please just don't hurt yourself, please."
She squeezed him tighter, thinking there had to be a way to hold him close enough to convince him otherwise. "I wasn't going to, El, I wouldn't do that, not to either of us."
His hand reached up, smoothing across her hair, fingering the ends that had gotten wet while she napped. "You scared me." His voice was soft, but his words, his honesty, screamed in her ear. He had opened himself up to her in a way he never had before.
And she hated that she'd hurt him, even unintentionally.
So she pulled back, holding his face to force his eyes to her. "Stop, it's ok." She waited, making sure her words would be heard. "I know you didn't hurt me. I know it wasn't you." She stopped again, taking a breath, realizing the absolute truth of what she was saying. "I believe you, El. I believe you."
He nodded, instinctively agreeing with her. But then his head stopped moving, his mouth falling open, his eyes searching hers. "You do?" He started to smile, only to have it falter. "Really? You really believe me?"
She smiled, nodding, proud of herself for having won his love, proud that she had the power to make him so happy. And then the words she had forgotten to tell him were there, impossible for her to not say. "I love you."