28. Wren

28

WREN

I couldn't give a detailed reasoning of why I felt the need to jump into Mal's arms other than the fact that I wanted to. I was desperate and tired and needed strength from someone other than myself. Although it was wrong, and entirely impulsive, I never wanted it to end.

It had been so long since I've felt safe like this. Held in such a tight hold that we were at risk of becoming one.

His large hand was splayed on the back of my head in a possessive hold while the other laid soothingly along my back. Everything about it was wrong. Being in such close proximity to him should have made my stomach churn in disgust, but all his presence did was make it more impossible to dislike him.

Guilty conscience or not, I needed him today.

"Shh…" he whispered against the outer part of my ear. "It's okay. You'll be okay."

He wove his fingers through my hair and slowly began to massage them into my scalp. It was unlike anything I've ever experienced with Mal. This soft, gentle, caring side that I was so desperate to see and I was now finally getting to experience it.

I felt as though I was dreaming and at any moment I would wake up. So, I continued to keep my eyes closed, hoping and praying that this was real.

I needed it to be real.

"I'm here. I'm not going anywhere," he promised, causing my heart to flip.

We remained locked in each other's embrace, soaking it all in as if this was the last and only time it would happen. Memorizing his scent, the feel of his arms and the way he refused to be the first one to pull away, I bottled it up inside so it would never be forgotten.

And maybe he was taking this time to do the same.

Or maybe he wasn't thinking about anything at all other than the fact that I needed someone.

Hours could have passed and I wouldn't have known it or cared. My tears had slowly wavered into soft breaths and the pressure of Mal's hand on my head lulled me off into a semi-conscious state of peacefulness.

"If I ask you to do something for me, will you do it?" he asked as he slowly pulled away from me and met my gaze.

It was nearly impossible to not get lost in those eyes and not be affected. Worry marred his features, but it was nothing compared to the sincereness in his tone.

Unfolding right before my eyes was a Mal that the world had never seen. I felt almost honored in a way to be the one who conjured up these feelings and emotions inside of him, but it had also pained me knowing that he kept this side of himself so closed off. I wanted answers but I knew I could only handle so much right now.

Today I was fragile and at the risk of cracking at any moment, and Mal seemed to have understood that.

"Okay," I muttered under my breath, and soon he was releasing his hold on me.

"Where's your hairbrush?"

My eyebrows bunched together in confusion.

"My hairbrush?" I repeated.

"Yeah." He nodded while scouring my room with his eyes for a brush. "Just trust me, okay?"

I had no other choice but to trust him. He was here when he didn't have to be and that spoke volumes. Then nodding, I walked over to the small end table beside the bed where I pulled open the drawer and handed him my hairbrush.

Taking the pink brush in his large hand, he then kicked off his tennis shoes and climbed up onto the bed. My eyes went wide as I watched the oversized hockey player take up space in the middle of my bed where he sat with his back to the headboard and his legs spread out wide.

"Come on, Doe." He patted the spot between his legs and I swear my own had almost given out.

"You want me to sit there?" I motioned with my head toward the apex of his thighs. Even in a pair of sweats, you could see the outline of his muscles. Way bigger than I remember him being.

"If you want me to brush your hair, then yes."

I could tell he was amused now as he tried to hold back a smile. Clearly I was everything but as my breaths came in quicker and my cheeks went hot.

"Mal…" I looked away from the man in my bed, suddenly feeling entirely out of place and unsure. It had been so long since I'd been in bed with another man.

Not since Hayes.

Even if we weren't doing anything wrong, it still had my heart racing.

"I told you to trust me, Doe. I would never do anything to hurt you or make you feel uncomfortable, you know that, right?"

"I know," I grumbled, still refusing to look at him.

"Then please, let me do this for you. Let me help you," he begged, and suddenly I felt like I had to give him a chance.

Even though I knew we shouldn't further complicate whatever this was, I still had found myself climbing onto the bed where I aligned my back with his chest and my legs between his. It was challenging at first to get up over his legs without making things too uncomfortable. That's why I kept my eyes low as I practically straddled him before getting into position.

"Scoot up a bit." He nudged my hip softly, causing me to jump forward. "Perfect," he praised, causing my neck to break out in warmth. "I'm gonna brush your hair now, okay? Let me know if I'm hurting you."

Instead of responding, I nodded. Then reaching for the two items that I could never live without, I pulled them in close to my chest.

My blue octopus, and my favorite book, The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows. On the days I hurt, on the days I'm happy, or on the days that I wish he was here, I hold the reminders of him close to me as if I can feel him.

As if he's somehow with me.

And for a moment, I can sense Mal watching me from behind as I hug the items close. He knows what they are and what they mean to me.

It would be obvious to anyone, so that's why he doesn't ask.

So then closing my eyes, I anxiously wait for the bristles of the brush to glide across my scalp and just when I thought he was going to do it, he didn't. Maybe he wasn't sure where to start? Or this was his first time brushing someone else's hair? Whatever it was had me sitting there waiting, until finally I felt the pads of his fingers graze my neck as he gathered my hair from the front of my chest and moved it to the back. He did the same on the other side and once all my hair was resting along my back, he began to brush.

Instantly, my eyes closed on a sigh. Starting from the top of my head, down to the bottom, he used the softest of pressure as he worked the hairbrush through my locks. My hair had been a mess of knots and snarls after crying into my pillow all morning, but luckily he was taking extra precaution as the brush started to get caught up.

He didn't force it through. He didn't even try to go around it. Instead, he gently brushed it out and stopped to make sure I was okay.

It melted my heart.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked, curious to know his answer as to why he chose to do this.

"Because I want to."

Simple. Straightforward.

"I haven't had anyone brush my hair in so long. It feels nice," I admitted as he made his way onto the right side of my head.

"Anytime you need me to do it, I will."

He said that now, but I felt as though that might change when tomorrow came. When he comes to his senses and realizes that he should have never come to see me. I'd remember it forever, though, just in case I needed a reminder of how Mal could be.

Or how we could be.

"Where did you learn how to do this anyway? To be so gentle?"

He paused his brushing but soon started back up.

"I…" he began, but on a deep sigh he struggled to continue. Whatever he was about to say was going to be something deep and very slowly, I placed my palm onto his thigh in reassurance.

Telling him that it was okay to continue and that I was here for him.

"It was something stupid I did as a kid. I found an old doll in the street one day and decided to take it home. I cleaned it up the best I could, but the hair on it was fucked. Just a giant knot, so I stole one of my mom's old hairbrushes and started to brush the doll's hair." He sounded conflicted with his own story. Like he was angry about it or maybe with himself. "Every night I would do it. Even when all the knots were gone, it became a distraction for me."

I wasn't expecting an answer as deep and personal as this one and I had a strong feeling he hadn't told anyone else about this. My stomach churned at the thought of him as a young child needing a distraction. In my already fragile state, I felt on the verge of tears.

"I found brushing hair to be… comforting for me.

"And whatever happened to the doll?"

"It was eventually thrown out. My dad found out that I was hiding it underneath my bed and ripped me a new one for having it. Told me to watch as he lit the doll's hair on fire and eventually threw it in the trash along with the hairbrush."

My heart cracked for him. What kind of person could do that to a young child? What kind of father could do that to their own kid? Traumatizing him for trying to find some sort of peace in the chaos they themselves built.

It was beyond infuriating.

And Mal seemed to have noticed.

"The real thing is better, though," he confessed.

" H ave you eaten at all today?" he asked as my eyes opened from their current state of feeling drowsy.

"A little."

My stomach continued to growl and eventually, I set my octopus and book beside me and pulled my knees up in hopes I could cover up the sound.

"What's a little?"

"Some pretzels," I answered truthfully.

He let out a low, exasperated sigh as his brushing stopped.

"You need to eat more."

Rolling my eyes, I should've known he'd try to boss me around as if I were a child. Let alone one that needed reminders on when to eat.

"I'm not hungry."

Already, I could sense his annoyance with me. Just the disappearance of the hairbrush on my head was a dead giveaway of how irritated I was making him.

But I wasn't hungry.

I hadn't been hungry all night or all morning, and the last thing I wanted to do was fill my stomach when at any moment I could puke from feeling overwhelmed.

"I know you're not, but you're going to have to eat sooner or later." I was slightly surprised to hear a softer tone coming from him, one that didn't result in an expletive or an argument. "Promise me that you'll try to eat."

I glanced at him over my shoulder, suddenly confused by what his motives were by coming here. Why was he being so nice and caring? And why he was so worried about me and trying to make promises. It was giving me whiplash and as I looked back at him, all I wanted to do was fall back into his arms again.

It was maddening.

There was nothing okay about these mixed emotions I was currently experiencing. It wasn't fair that he made me feel so unsure about everything and anything and when I wanted to hate him, I couldn't.

My heart wouldn't let me.

"What happens after you leave here, Mal? Will you go back to ignoring me and pretending like I don't exist?" I shifted gears on our conversation, immediately feeling a flash of anger all over again. He appeared taken aback at first as if he wasn't expecting me to blow up on him again, but soon that shifted into his own outrage. "It's what you like to do, isn't it? Pretend like you care about my well-being and the next day act as though I'm no one to you?"

His hold on the hairbrush loosened at his side, but he didn't let go of it. He used it like a stress ball instead and his knuckles turned white from the pressure he induced. It didn't take a genius to figure out that I pissed him off, but I needed answers. I knew I said I couldn't handle it, but it was all I could think about. No matter how hard I tried to let it go, it was eating at me to the point it was driving me insane.

Why?

Why was he so hot and cold?

Why he'd act as though we were friends, then later act like he hated me?

And why the fuck had it bothered me so much?

"Do you hate me, Mal?" I asked on a cry. "Or do you wish you could hate me?"

Though his jaw was clenched and his eyes held on to mine with such a deep intensity, he looked torn on what to do or say. I would almost bet that no one dared to talk to him this way. Ignite actual feelings within him because right now, he was struggling.

Body language, facial expressions, he was fighting it all.

"Tell me something! Anything!" I begged and turned around until I was facing him. "Tell me why you never mention Hayes to me or why you don't seem to be affected by this day at all?"

He immediately tore his eyes away from mine on a low, warning-like growl.

"Don't, Wren," he cautioned.

"Why?!" I shouted. "Why can't you just be honest with me? For once?"

His breathing had turned more labored now. Like an animal, his nostrils were flaring and he wouldn't meet my eyes. I was tempted to grab his chin and force him to acknowledge me, but when a few seconds had passed, I didn't have to.

He finally turned his head, and that's when I knew I had awoken the beast.