20. Mer - The After

It was the same every time. Back crossovers around the edge of the boards which were decorated with the words “US FIGURE SKATING NATIONALS 2014.” I drifted into him, our hands interlocked, we went up for the lift. I was floating above the world.

Until I wasn’t anymore.

Pain exploded in my knee, pulling me from the nightmare. It was worse than usual, making it feel like the accident just happened.

My body racked with a sob that I tried my best to muffle with a pillow. I clutched my knee, trying to soothe the pain away, but it wasn’t working.

Hands went to my leg and my body jerked violently away, making the nerve pain shoot up and down my leg. A string of “ow, ow, ow,” left my mouth before I clamped my hand over it.

“It’s okay, it’s me,” he said, his voice rough with sleep. His warm hands were on me then, loosening the tension, trying to soothe my knee, while my mind raced to escape the maze of past pain.

It took longer for the episode to ease away this time. In the back of my mind, I knew it was because I spent way too much time on my feet throughout the day– from picking up Piper at the crack of dawn, to skating practice, to helping Lucy and the boys at night.

When I finally opened my eyes, my gaze drifted around Colt’s living room where we all fell asleep. The TV, which was now illuminated with the Are you still watching? sign, read 3:12am.

“I’m sorry,” my voice hitched from crying. I used the back of my hand to wipe my cheeks and embarrassment set in. “You shouldn't be up,” I whispered in the dark, “you have a game tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry about that.” Colt continued massaging my leg. His sharp profile was illuminated by the little glow from the TV. “Let me take care of you, baby.” The term of endearment must’ve slipped out because he was half asleep, but I clung to it in that moment of weakness, desperately wishing he meant it.

“I’m sorry I woke you,” I said, feeling the guilt eating at me but not wanting him to go back to sleep just yet. I was normally alone in this dark hour, just having someone sit with me made such a big difference. He made a big difference. He was such a large, solid guy, but his hands on me were so soothing.

“It’s okay, just relax, Mer,” he kept his voice low to not wake the others. “How often does this happen?”

“Not often,” I said tightly.

He snorted softly. “Then I think we have different definitions of ‘often’. I’ve seen it happen twice in the space of like…” he stopped to think, “three days?”

“Maybe my knee knows when you’re around,” I tried to joke, but it came out flat.

He smirked at me in the dark, telling me he wasn’t going to let this go. “How often?”

I blew out a sigh. I hadn’t told anyone else about this. For some reason, saying it aloud made it a real problem that I’d have to look into, and I was afraid of what I’d find out. Just the thought of potentially having to go under the knife again stirred the beginnings of a panic attack.

“It usually doesn’t act up during the day. It’s just been worse since I started coaching. At night, it’s not consistent. Sometimes I’ll go months without pain, other times I can’t seem to make it stop. I get nightmares… And it feels like I’m going through it again.”

He nodded and rubbed his scruff-covered jaw like it irritated him. “I had a bad dream, too.”

“About what?”

“Andy.”

That name was like a sucker punch to the gut. I tried my best to eliminate all traces of Andy from my mind, and I really didn’t want him filling any space between me and Colt ever again. “I can’t,” my voice cracked.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, looking at me in confusion, like he was shocked I was this affected by his name.

My voice sounded so small, even to myself, when I said, “I just want to be in the after, Colt. I think we earned it, didn’t we?”

He hesitated before nodding, then he continued massaging my leg with his strong, warm hands. “Why don’t you go in? To the doctors? Try to figure out if there’s something that could help manage the pain?”

I shook my head against that. “I hate going in. The thought of going to more doctors and having them poke and prod at my knee again…” I cut myself off before I lost it again. “It was a really long and painful recovery.” I shook my head. “I can’t do it again.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” he said, carefully inspecting the large scar going down the center of knee.

“It’s fine.” My throat tightened to the point of pain. I tried to pull away from him, but he kept his warm hands on my knee.

After a few minutes of silence, he thankfully changed the subject. “Why Chicago?”

“Piper,” I said automatically.

He smirked. “That’s what we figured.”

But for some reason, it was easier to speak the truth at night, and I found myself quietly admitting: “I didn’t want to be alone anymore.”

His hands stopped and my body wanted to cry out, but then he shifted so he was fully behind me. His body melded to mine, my back flush against his chest, his muscular arm curled around my waist, holding me close. And then I wanted to cry for different reasons– for ever having lost this, and for having it again, even if it was just for tonight.

“You’ll never be alone again,” he whispered, “you have us, okay?”

My eyes stung. I wanted to believe him, I really did, but a nagging voice at the back of my head shouted at me– you believed him last time, too.

Like he could sense my inner turmoil, he pressed a kiss into my hair and whispered, “Don’t worry, I’ll keep telling you until you believe it.”

Now it was my turn to wonder if I was hallucinating, because those words, this comfort, was all I ever dreamed of.

Tucked against him, clutching his arm, I fell asleep in seconds.