Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 107924 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 540(@200wpm)___ 432(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107924 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 540(@200wpm)___ 432(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
Chapter 13
Dallas
Something woke me only a couple of hours after I had gone to sleep. I looked out the window to find it still dark outside. Luke’s side of the bed was empty, and a sudden feeling of uneasiness washed over me. I heard the sound of a thud, followed by the sound of chains rattling and sat up, listening harder to see if I could figure out where the noise was coming from. The sound came again, and I turned my head to the right, to find the door leading outside unlocked. I grabbed my sweater from the floor, pulling it over my head, and stepped into my leggings. I walked to the door, not giving myself time to be nervous or scared of what I would find, and pushed it open. It was the early hours of the morning, and I saw Luke dressed in basketball shorts, tennis shoes, and no shirt, hitting a punching bag. He didn’t seem to have any set strategy, which told me that he was not working out, he was venting. Something was on his mind, and he was trying to clear his head by beating the shit out of some imaginary person. I watched him for a minute, as he bounced lightly on his feet, hammering away at the bag, as it swung from side to side. We were in an alley between two buildings, and I noticed the area was filled with grills, tables, workout equipment and a dumpster. A tall, iron gate sealed off both exits, and kept it clear of any traffic. A large street lamp hung on the side of the building, casting an eerie glow over the alley.
“Luke,” I said, getting his attention immediately. He turned to look at me, not moving or speaking, just staring at me across the dimly lit street. “Everything okay?” I asked, wishing I could see his face better. He was breathing heavily, his shoulders rising and falling, while his hands stayed at his hips. Was he pissed at me?
“Yeah, babe. I’m okay. Just go back to sleep. I’ll be there soon,” he said, his breathing irregular and harsh.
“You know, we can talk about it. I know something is bothering you. You can tell me.” I expected his response before I received it. At times like this, Luke was very predictable.
“I’m good. I’ll be in soon.” He had still made no effort to come to me, and I was frozen in place as well. I wanted to go to him, but something told me to just give him some space. I walked inside, my mind spinning as to what could be wrong. He had asked me to come, and had made love to me, and then I find him outside only hours later, venting about something he was refusing to talk about. I wasn’t surprised or pissed that he wasn’t sharing, but, after his speech, I was worried. I didn’t like the way he was talking as if he might go away and never come back, and wanting me to know just how much he loved me. I crawled back into bed, fully clothed, despite the stifling humidity, and curled up facing the door. I would know when he came through it, and I refused to fall asleep until he did. What couldn’t have been more than five minutes had passed when Luke made his way inside, securing the door and going straight to the bathroom, without a single glance my way. I heard the shower start, and something came over me.
“Fuck this.” I said to the empty room, stripping off my clothes, as I headed to the bathroom. I opened the door, just as he was stepping into the shower. “Don’t shut me out, Luke. Tell me and let me help you deal with this. That’s what I’m here for.” I wasn’t demanding or desperate, but encouraging. He observed me for a moment as if to see if what I offered was the truth. I stood there patiently, waiting for him to decide if this was something he knew he could trust me with. Finally, he took a deep breath and nodded, gesturing with his hand for me to join him. I waited for him to start the conversation as he allowed me to stand under the streaming water, before changing places with me. We bathed in complete silence. I would not push him on this. If he wanted to talk he would, but I refused to beg him to do so. This was something he was going to have to do on his own. If I wanted him to tell me, I would have to wait until he was ready. It was evident that it was weighing heavily on his shoulders, whatever it was. After our shower, I followed him into the room to retrieve my bag, but he stopped me by placing one of his own shirts over my head. He took the towel from my hands and tossed it on the floor, before pulling me to the bed and placing me so that I was lying on top of his chest. I was finally accepting defeat, and was ready to go to sleep, when at last he spoke.