𝐂𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐘

[39] Mi Amore

m i  a m o r e
COVEY'S POV:

Every word I spoke just now was true, yet I could barely register the actual thoughts in my brain.

There are a lot of things I feel that I don't say—partly because no one understands. And if they won't ever understand, why should I put my energy into something like that? I guess tonight was the straw that broke the camel's back.

I can't remember the last time I cried over something worth crying over. For example, I've felt tears prick my eyes over sad endings to movies, eating the last dino chicken nugget, and Conrad's cheesy words. But never has something traumatic affected me to the point of tears. Because after everything in my life, I've gone numb.

A car crash into a parked car on the side of a normal, totally unbusy street. 

I mean, I know things happen... that they happen for a reason. There's always a Why? So, Why did this happen? Why was it so out of the blue?

"Let me make love to you tonight," Conrad says in a promising tone, one of care and concern.

I let go of the fistful I took of his shirt, my bottom lip going in between my teeth. "Yes, please."

He smiles, picking me up and taking us to his room. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes." No. "I'm alright." I'm frightened. "Is your car gonna be okay?" Am I gonna be okay?

"How many times do I have to tell you that the car doesn't mean anything—" he grumbles, setting me down on the floor. "Well, it does. I had a deep sentimental attachment to it. But that doesn't matter. I need to know you're okay. Cars are replaceable. You, mi amore, aren't."

I crinkle my nose up, holding his jaw in my hands. "Say that again."

"What?" Conrad furrows his eyebrows together. "Say what?"

"Mi amore," I whisper, outlining his cheekbones now. "Say it again."

"Ti amo, mi amore," he repeats, taking my shirt and tugging me to him. "Never fucking forget it."

I smile, reaching down to the hem of the t-shirt before pulling it off of me. "Ti amo, mi amore," I echo and say as I shut my eyes when his hands start roaming my body. "Ti amo."

He breathes in heavily, warm puffs of his exhale causing butterflies in my tummy to erupt. "I'm sorry."

"I'm okay." Okay. I'm okay. Okay.

"I should've never parked my car there, I should've just taken us home. And I know I said that things happen, but shit, Covey, things like that shouldn't just happen."

"Then Why?" I ask, looking up at him. "Why Why Why?"

He looks at me strong and hard for a few seconds, a small and knowing expression of awe written on his features. "There was always a Why for things like this. Why things got to a certain point," he finishes. He did have my paper memorized. 

And then something registers in his brain, yet he doesn't say what, and the dark, stormy gray color of his eyes hardens into a glare. "I mean, Why—Why did he do this to you?" he whispers, tightening his jaw.

I shake my head, not understanding. "Who?"

"Don't worry about it," he mutters, giving me a clipped answer. "I'll deal with it."

But before I can respond or overthink, his lips are on mine and my hands are exploring his body and we're slowly moving towards the bed. Take me to heaven.