𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐊𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒

𝟑𝟕 || 𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓

"Do they happen often?"

"Not really, just..." I hesitated, the words caught in the recesses of my thoughts. I couldn't tell him. I couldn't tell him because then he'd worry, and then he could find out, and I couldn't have that. "I don't know."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

I shook my head in disagreement.

"Okay," he said softly, not attempting at pushing me for answers. "Well then we can take it easy today, okay? You should rest some more, and I'll draw you a bath."

"We? Don't you have work or what not?"

He chuckled, a warm expression on his face. "There are other people who can take care of it," he reassured, his gaze holding mine with a sense of shared responsibility.

"But what if this is how people find out?" I voiced my concern, uncertainty lacing my words. "If you start to stay at home more, then people might start thinking things."

"They won't. And if they do, then so be it, Red," he asserted with a confidence that brushed away my worries. "I can handle them." His reassurance was accompanied by a tender kiss planted on my forehead, and then he pushed away the sheets from his legs.

The sound of running water coming from the bathtub was the last thing that I heard before falling back asleep.

_______

Dominic held the book in one hand, its weight a comforting presence against his palm. His other arm wrapped behind me and rested on my stomach, creating a secure embrace as I nestled into the curve of his chest. We had been sitting on the living room couch, reading for about forty five minutes, and I was merely seconds away from falling asleep. I guess Dominic was right— I really didn't sleep enough after all.

Our breathing synchronized with the rustle of pages turning, and my eyes grew heavy until the deep and calming voice called my name. "Violet?" He asked, and I felt his head turn as he looked at me.

I pushed myself taller, fixing my posture so that it would be harder to fall asleep. Though I doubt that would work, because Dominic might have been the most comforting person to have ever held me so simply. "What? Oh, yeah. You can turn the page."

He laughed softly before delicately setting the book aside, placing it on the side table next to him. "Come here," he invited, a warmth in his tone that dissolved any lingering tension. I positioned myself on my back, nestling my head in the cradle of his lap. His hand slipped under the thin fabric of my tank top, the other pushing my hair out of my face.

It amazed me how gentle he was. For a person whose daily existence was entwined with the decision of life and death, held me with a tenderness that defied the harsh realities he navigated. Two or so months ago, I wouldn't have believed that those abilities could ever coexist, but after all, a lot can happen in that time.

"You make a good pillow," I commented lazily.

"Thank you," he mumbled back, and I stayed there, laying down with my eyes closed for— I don't even know how many minutes.

Then suddenly, a knock from the front door filled the silence of the house. The simple tap against wood was enough for me to sit up straight, rising from the relaxed position I was in moments ago. "Are you expecting someone?" I asked, my voice sounding somewhat alarmed.