#littlefreya

He was a mess. 

Though, that wasn’t saying much. All the men in this port were messes. He seemed somehow...sadder. Marty realized as she studied him from her perch under the veranda that he had been a man of some standing. His coat while in dire need of mending was made from a fine quality wool. The collar indicated he was likely military – perhaps a deserter. Remnants of a powder wig were still clinging desperately to his head under his tri-corn hat.  

Yes, Marty decided, he was sad. 

But handsome in a rugged sort of way. 

Not that it mattered, messy, sad, and likely drunk, made for an easy target – she only hoped that he had something worth taking on his person. She waited idly as he wandered aimlessly away from the tavern before trailing silently after. Shadows hid her graceful figure like a well-worn cloak, waiting to be shed when the moment was right. 

Anticipation quickened her veins when he stumbled into an alley to lean heavily against a wall. It wasn’t empty, others were cutting through the slim path and in the darkness of an alcove a by-the-minute paid rendezvous was coming to a quick end. He didn’t pass out to her surprise but his laxed state was enough for her to go to work. 

Marty swept down the alley like she owned the cobbled stone that lay under her feet, timing her passage with another drunkard. It was perfect, the drunkard swayed, and she used the excuse to bump into her sad man as she darted past. She came away with a fairly hefty coin purse and pocket watch –not that her sad man would notice until she was long gone. 

At least that’s what she had thought... 

Strong fingers enwrapped her elbow and Marty cried out in surprise as she was swung into the alcove that had just been vacated. Eyes that resembled thunderclouds glared down at her, “I believe you took something that belongs to me.” 

Marty breathed out as she realized that her sad man was not nearly as inebriated as she had thought. Bad calculation on her part, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t wriggle out of this one, “I beg your pardon -” 

“My effects, madam.” His voice was firm, timbered like smoked coals of a fire. 

Delicious, her mind supplied. She let her gaze draw down his body over the sword at his waist and the pistol strapped to his other side.  

“You appear to have your effects on you.” Marty drawled lightly, running her finger over the smooth wooden handle of his pistol, “Or were you asking me to divest you of these? If so, you’d need to pay.” 

Something dark and sinful entered those thunderous eyes and it sent a sharp thrill down her spine. Marty knew she was playing with fire, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. She was fascinated with raw wildness the man was barely keeping contained. She dearly wanted to see him break. 

“Seeing as you have my money, I believe I’ve already paid.” He growled before shoving his leg between hers and hoisting her, so her toes barely reached the ground. 

Her heart thundered, but strangely she wasn’t afraid. Her core clenched involuntarily, and she could only wonder what it would be like to have that coarse beard of his bushing her thighs.   

Marty allowed her shawl to slip off her shoulders and revealed the plunge of her neckline. The tease of her bosom drew his gaze, and she was pleased by the heat it bolstered. 

The one saving grace I held on to as I counted down the minutes of my shift was that Henry would be home tonight, waiting for me. God, I don’t know how I got so lucky, but somehow that kind and gentle soul had seen through the cracked and broken wall that I kept as my only defense mechanism, and had chosen me anyway. He knew some of my past and pain, but I hadn’t opened up about everything; I wasn’t ready to lose him, and I knew he’d be out the door once he heard it all. Just like everyone else. Perhaps that was selfish of me, but for once in my life, I knew what it felt like to be loved, and I was soaking in every ounce I could of that sweet nectar before it was gone.

Finally, finally, my work day was over. I headed to his place as fast as I safely could, anxious and burdened with unwelcome memories. The delicious smell of roast flooded my nostrils as I opened the door and Kal came bounding over. I noticed as I toed off my pumps and tamed the wild beast that Henry had built a fire, and gratitude filled my heart. He always seemed to know exactly what I needed, sometimes even before I did. I headed toward the kitchen, following my nose.

“Hey love,” Henry smiled wide, already pouring me a glass of red. He swallowed me in a warm embrace, his chin planted on the top of my head, and my body tucked firmly in his arms. I melted, sinking into the security of his hug and letting the stress of the previous hours wash away. I was here, he was home, and I was safe.

We ate quietly, talking here and there about random facts or tidbits. I pushed the food around on my plate, taking a bite here and there to satisfy Henry but I could sense him watching me carefully; his concern was evident, but he covered it well, masking it with simple questions or well-timed caresses. Even so, his next question caught me off guard, my fork halfway to my mouth.

“Will you tell me about it?”

The silverware clattered to the plate, forgotten in my fear. This is it, I thought, tonight’s the night I lose him forever. My chest constricted and I could feel the panic slowly rising, tears welling and threatening to spill. Henry quickly grabbed my hand and shushed me, cupping my face in nurturing kindness. 

“You don’t have to,” he comforted, and I closed my eyes, exhaling the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Henry soothed his thumb over my cheek before pulling me onto his lap, cradling my head in his large hands. I burrowed deep into his chest, letting his scent wash over me in calming waves.

“I just want to help,” I heard Henry whisper. I sighed; he was right, it was time for him to know. I looked up at him, staring at that beautiful face that held so much promise. A face that said so much in just a look, with eyes that sparkled like the heavens whenever they landed on me. Once again, I wondered why his eyes looked like that when it was me they were viewing, but I shoved it aside. Self-deprecation would not help, not right now. Nodding softly, I tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come out. I couldn’t tell him, not out loud. I dropped my head in defeat.

Henry shifted me off his lap, grabbing my hand and walking us to his desk. He sat in his gaming chair and patted his thigh, tugging on my arm. I hesitated, confused.

“Come here, love,” he encouraged, guiding me to sit. With both of us facing the computer, he opened a word document and offered me the keyboard.

“If you’re unable to say it out loud,” Henry crooned in my ear, kissing softly under my lobe, “Then write it. I’ll read it as you type, and neither of us has to say anything.”

This man. I swear to god. Relief flooded through me, though anxiety pounced instantly as I was reminded that once we were done, he would be gone. No one else had stayed, my problems were much too great... Why should he be the one to bear the burden of me? I took a deep breath anyway and eyed the screen, my fingertips trembling over the instrument of my demise.

Where should I even begin? Should I go all the way back to the beginning, to my birth? How I was nothing but a mistake, and every day I was reminded as such? Or maybe I should tell him what the scars are from? Perhaps I should simply tell him about failed relationship after failed relationship, both romantic and non. Those are all fun tales, I had no doubt he’d love to hear all about them. Maybe he wanted to know the amount of times I’ve come close to admitting defeat and ending everything. Spoiler alert… that number’s higher than it should be. 

I swallowed thickly and began typing, slow and hesitant words forming on the page. Every thought was carefully constructed, worked over in my mind at least five times before I allowed it to leave my fingers. Henry’s comforting arms were wrapped tightly around my waist, his chin nestled on my shoulder as he read what I shared. Tears slowly brimmed in my eyes, kept at bay only by sheer force of will. Each stroke of a key sounded like a hammer hitting the nails in our relationship’s inevitable coffin; surely he wouldn’t, couldn’t love me after this. No one could. It’s simply too much for anyone to bear, too awful… too hard.

And yet in my ear were the sounds of something different. Encouraging grunts, empathetic hums. Henry kept his promise, he never said a word except for one small sigh of “oh, love” as I hit a particularly difficult moment. His hands rubbed my sides, kisses left tiny wet imprints on my cheek, and every now and then he would squeeze tighter, small reassurances to keep going. 

The words started pouring out of me. I couldn’t have stopped myself if I tried; Every struggle, every loss, every tiring moment; every single thing that had ever happened to me found its way into that document in a flurry of clacking plastic. My hands moved of their own free will and the tears started to flow; long, silent trails of pain releasing years worth of pent up anger and hurt. The salty drops fell onto Henry’s forearms but he just left them there, rooted to his task of protecting me. I would miss how safe I felt in the protection of his arms. 

The final sentence fell out of my hands, and I immediately turned and buried my face into Henry’s shoulder, bitter sobs wracking my frame as I clung to his neck. 

“Please don’t leave me,” I begged, ashamed of myself for being so needy and undesirable. I expected him to untangle himself from my arms, to get up and open the door to excuse me from his home. To force me to leave his life and never return.

The last thing I expected was for him to burst out laughing. 

I snapped my head up and stared at him in horror, which only made him laugh harder.

“I’m so sorry,” he wheezed, “I really shouldn’t be laughing. It’s just… I know why you think I would leave you, it’s all right there on the computer, but you have nothing to worry about.”

Henry wiped his eyes and mine and cupped my face, still chuckling. 

“You think so little of yourself that you can’t see just how worthy you are,” he murmured, adoration and mirth mingling in his eyes as he tucked my hair behind my ear. I furrowed my brow and pressed my face into his palm, relishing the cooling sensation of calm that his skin brought. 

“I know what it’s like to feel how you do,” Henry went on softly, “To feel unwanted and undeserving. But I’m not going to walk away from a flower as strong, as rare, and as beautiful as you just because she’s got a few bruises. I love you just the way you are.”

His admonition shocked the both of us. He loves me? I tried to process what he’d just said, but my mind was raw and I couldn’t think straight. He loves me.

“Yes, I love you,” Henry repeated as though he could read my thoughts, clasping my jaw and looking me straight in the eye. “I love you, and I’m not going anywhere… I’m not going to leave you.”

I smiled widely as tears spilt over once more, happiness bursting from my heart. With anyone else I’d be doubtful, I’d have hightailed it on my own after a proclamation like that before the other shoe dropped... before they could hurt me worse. But this wasn’t anyone else, this was Henry. And being with him made me brave, which is why I found words leaving my lips that I never thought I’d ever say again.

“I love you, too.”