Farraway Mist ?A Wattpad featured story?

Chapter 22: A Lack Of Honesty

"Move your head, I can't see."

Scout obligingly ducked her head in the bed she shared with her boyfriend. George was watching video of himself, having sex with Tessa. His eyes were closed in the video, his expression one of pure joy. Her body was perfect, skin flawless, hair a tawny spill down her back. Tessa smiled at the camera, lips shiny and parted, eyes glowing, as she squeezed her beautiful breasts together. Scout could hear George gasp and moan above her as she sucked on him even harder, trying to get him off as he enjoyed the sight of himself with his first wife.

"Harder, Scout. Scout.

"Scout. Scout!"

She sat up with a start.

It was completely dark in the room, and she could feel George's hand on her shoulder. She heard a click, and the lamp next to his side of the bed cast a warm light, illuminating his concerned face as he sat up next to her. The dogs' heads were lifted as they, too, looked at her, eyes wide in the dim light.

"You were having a nightmare, darling," George said softly, continuing to rub her shoulder. He leaned forward so he could look closely into her eyes. "Are you well and truly awake now?"

She nodded, swallowing, rubbing at her throat, turning away from him slightly.

He could see perspiration at her hairline and temples, and lifted the edge of the sheet to wipe her face, putting an arm around her. She let him, but he could tell she didn't want him touching her, and he moved his arm after a few moments, sighing quietly to himself.

"What's the matter?" he asked. "Do you remember what the dream was about?"

Scout shuddered, but shook her head. "No, not really. Just the usual, you know, something chasing me or whatever." She shrugged. "I'm fine now, honest." She tried to smile at George, but it was the ghost of her usual smile.

George was beyond frustrated. He wanted to help her, to be there for her, to do something, anything, but between her independence, and the fact that he had no idea what was wrong, he felt completely helpless. He was a multi-millionaire, with the world at his fingertips, and he couldn't help his pregnant girlfriend feel better, and it was killing him.

They lay back down, and just as George was drifting off to sleep, he heard Scout draw a deep breath that he could tell was from crying. He snapped the light back on and tried to turn her over, but she wouldn't turn. She was as far over on her side as she could get, too, which was odd.

"Scout? Dammit, what's wrong?" he asked urgently. "Please, darling, don't do this. Please? You're scaring me. Is something wrong that you're afraid to tell me? Oh god, what?" He couldn't keep the fear out of his voice.

She turned over, and he could see that her eyes were wet, and her nose was red.

"Oh, you poor little thing, what is it?" he asked, aghast. "Why can't you tell me? Is it the baby? Is something wrong with the baby? Are you in pain?"

Scout shook her head. "It's nothing like that, I promise," she said. "I can't--I can't talk about it, I feel too stupid, okay? I'm not someone who cries about shit, or talks about feelings and stuff, I don't know how to do it very well, you know? I feel like such an idiot--" She couldn't continue.

"Okay, okay, that's okay," George assured her. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, you don't. I'm not much into that sort of thing myself, to be honest." He reached out for her. "But you can surely accept comfort from someone, though, right? Hm?" He pulled her into his body, and she gratefully tucked her hot face into his neck, snuffing into his skin as he stroked her hair.