At night, when I was working and Juliette was home, she’d send me pictures of antique helmets that looked like mine, determined in her mission to identify and date it. That would be cool, but I was just thrilled that Juls cared about it. That she cared about me. Our ongoing texts meandered through every topic, each of us responding when we were able to. When we were both working, it could mean hours between texts.Before Juliette, I would’ve been frustrated or bored by that, but I actually loved it. It was like we were in one continuous conversation, no start, no end, just always there with each other. That was the easy comfort we had between us.
So, for the last few days, it’d been really fucking obvious she was brushing me off. Something was wrong, and I didn’t know what. This entire shift, she barely texted and never called, and every time I called her, she had an excuse for why she couldn’t talk.
I let myself into her building and rode the slow-as-molasses elevator to her floor. I paused outside her door, listening for anything suspicious inside. Nothing. I knocked to give her a heads up that I was there, even though I’d been using my key since she gave it to me last week. No answer. Shit. I used the key to let myself in. The apartment was dark and quiet, but didn’t feel empty. “Juls?” I called out, my heart pounding.
“In here.”
I followed the sound of her voice to her bedroom. I stopped in the doorway and soaked in the sight of her, relief coursing through my veins. She was safe. One of the thoughts haunting me for the last few days was that she was hurt and didn’t want to tell me while I was working. We’d been fine since the day I’d practically accused her of getting hurt easily, but I still felt bad, and I’d worried that it would give her a reason to not want to tell me.
Of course, something was still wrong. But she was here, not in a hospital, and I didn’t see any obvious signs of injury or illness. Propped up in her bed, snuggled under the blanket, Kindle in hand. On the surface, she looked like she was enjoying a relaxing evening with a good book, but I knew her better than that. This was Juliette hiding from whatever was upsetting her.
“Baby?”
“Hi,” she said with a big, fake smile. “Everything okay?”
I sat on the edge of her bed and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. Now that I was closer, it was obvious she’d been crying. “Yeah, it was a quiet shift. You okay?”
“Um, good. Nothing. I’m just…uh, relaxing. I’m tired. Going to keep reading, okay?”
Fuck. She never talked like that when it was just her and me. “Okay,” I agreed calmly, even though every alarm in my head was blaring. “I’m tired too. I’m going to shower and then come relax with you.”
“Uh, okay.”
I rushed through a shower I didn’t need, but Juliette hated feeling put on the spot, so I gave her this moment to warm up to the idea of me joining her. Hopefully, she was using the time to prepare to talk, because I was not feeling particularly patient. I didn’t usually mind my schedule, but spending days away from Juliette when she pulled into herself was way too fucking long.
I quickly dried off, threw on a pair of boxers, and slid into bed, pulling Juliette into my arms, face to face, chest to chest, before she could come up with an excuse to leave. She threw her arms around me and pulled herself in even closer. Thank fuck. “Hi, baby,” I whispered into her hair as I rubbed her back.
“Mmm.”
“I love you, baby. I missed you so much.”
“Mm hmm.”
Damn. No words.
“You know, it used to be that after a long shift, I couldn’t wait to get home. As soon as I locked my door behind me, it felt like I’d locked all the troubles of the world outside. I was safe and free in my home, and I could finally take a deep, cleansing breath. But now, the thought of going back to an empty apartment does nothing for me. This right here feels like home. You, in my arms. Breathing you in. I just want to stay right here with you forever.”
Juliette hugged me tighter and kissed my chest where her head rested on me. Still no words.
“What’s going on, baby?” I whispered gently.
She shrugged, rolled over in my arms, and picked her Kindle back up.
“Juls?”
“I just want to read.”
I sighed. “Okay, baby. I’m here if you want to talk.”
She nodded, clutched my forearm to her chest, and turned her attention back to the book. Damn.
A little while later, I shifted in the bed and might have made a noise. I’m not sure, but maybe some of my frustration came through.
Juliette sprang up to sit next to me. “You want to know what’s wrong? You want to hear all about how mortified I was? Well, I don’t want to tell you! Enough people were there to witness it, I don’t want you to know too! I don’t want you to know, Dylan!”
“It’s okay, baby, you don’t need to tell me. I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what? That you pushed me to be lead? You should be, I hate it! I shouldn’t have listened to you! I knew I couldn’t do it! Or are you just sorry in general that I’m a fuck up? I’m sorry too. Sorry for all the dumb things I do. Want to find someone better to date? That’s okay, I?—”