After the sudden panic attack, we walked back to his car, and he drove me home.
"Violet," he grabbed my arm before I could get out. "You're okay?" He asked.
His brows furrowed, concern across his face.
I nodded, glancing at his hand, securely around my arm.
"You promise?" I opened my mouth to answer, but he interfered. "Don't lie to me."
The tone was almost commanding.
"... Yes, I'm okay."
His grip loosened, his hand slowly moving from my arm.
"Violet," he started again. He removed his hand from the wheel and looked at me. Really looked at me. "Why don't you trust me?"
I glanced back at him, wanting to object, but closed my mouth.
"What happened?" He asked, turning slightly. "Tell me what happened in that orphanage," his voice took on a commanding tone.
I swallowed hard and opened the door. He reached across and slammed it shut, locking it. "Violet, tell me."
I held back tears, keeping my head down so he wouldn't see.
"Please," I whispered. "Please don't, please don't make me."
He leaned closer, "Violet, if something happened there, I want to know. I want to make it right."
"You can't. Nothing can make anything right," I mumbled. My hands were shaking. I gripped my arms tightly.
"Violet," he tilted my chin up and softened almost immediately. He cupped my face and wiped the tears away that were spilling over my cheeks.
"Violet, I want to be here for you. I want to be that person you talk to. I want you to know you're safe with me. I wouldn't ever hurt you. You're too precious to me."
The comment only made the silent tears stronger.
He unlocked the door and hurried around to open mine, wrapping his arms tightly around me. He lifted me out from his car and went to sit on the porch steps.
I tried to move, but he only held me tighter. Finally, I succumbed to his embrace, trying to stop the tears from flowing.
"I won't make you," he said. One of his fists balled up in anger. "When you're ready." He moved a hand to wipe away the tears.
His were warm, his knuckles brushing along my jaw. Heat ran to my face.
"You look so beautiful when you cry," he looked at me. My breath caught, remembering the last time that was said.
His hand grazed to my chin, the thumb a centimeter away from my lip.
I held my breath when he glanced at my mouth, scared as to what he would do.
I lifted my hands and pushed on his shoulders, wanting separation, wanting distance. I couldn't bare being this close to him.
"I'll go. I'm okay," I stood, and he caught my arm when I wobbled.
"Violet, I want to do this again." His gaze lingered on me as he stood. Tall, his shoulders back and wide, intimatidaing when you saw him.
I didn't want to answer. I didn't know what I wanted, and he seemed to know just by looking at me. He stepped closer and opened the front door for me, allowing me inside before he shut it.