Remind Me

Chapter Eighteen

I wake up with the sudden realization that I'm a complete idiot.

I wake up with regret clinging to me.

I wake up wishing I could take everything I did yesterday back.

I shouldn't have kissed him. I shouldn't have given him hope that I can get better. Because I can't. And neither can we. Owen should move on from me. He should fine someone else, someone who can love him with no complications.

I'm in his bed. He practically forced me to stay here. He's on the couch in the living room. Just where he insisted on staying. I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be sleeping in his room. I shouldn't be giving him false hope about anything in the past, present, or future. I'm an idiot.

I jump out of his bed so quickly that my head starts aching. I cling to the wall, trying to regain my balance, but instead, I knock a picture frame off the wall and it falls to the ground, shattering at my feet.

I don't really feel it, but I can see the blood pooling from my feet where the glass cut me. I feel a little light headed seeing it.

Owen throws open the door, looking confused and nervous at the same time. His eyes find mine, then travel downwards until he notices the frame and my feet.

He rushes to my side, picks up the frame and the larger remaining pieces of glass on the ground. Then he lets out a shaky breath, seeing my feet. I am afraid to move.

"We have to clean your feet up," he says.

I stay silent, breathing in and out.

"Come on," he says, touching my arm gently.

"No," I tense under his touch. "I can do it."

I take a single step, but that makes it worse, so much worse, and my feet sting, and I wince. Owen doesn't waste a moment, picking me up in one swoop. He carries me to the bathroom just outside this doorway, then sets me on the counter. He pulls out supplies from under the sink.

"I can do it myself," I say quietly. "Really."

"No," he says. "I can handle it."

My feet are in the sink now, and the cold water turns pink as it washes my blood down the sink. His hands are slow and careful as he uses tweezers to grab the small pieces of glass stuck in my feet.

I can feel the pain immediately. I let out a sharp breath, and without realizing it, my hand clings to his forearm tightly. His gaze follows down as well as mine, and I let go too quickly.

"I'm sorry, Brinley," he says. "I know this is painful."

I don't say a word. I just watch him carefully as he continues in extreme care. Every once and a while, his eyes flicker up to mine. And I hate it. I hate how much I enjoy his eyes on me. I hate his beautiful eyes, trying to drag me in when I know I can't let them. He doesn't know what mistake he's making.

After he's finished, he turns on the water once more, then wraps my feet in a bandage material. His fingers are so gentle as he lets his hands rest against my legs. He looks up at me.

"Does that feel okay?"

I nod, once.

"What happened?" He asks me.

"I lost my balance," is my only explanation.

He sighs, standing up so he's level with my eyes now. He comes in closer to me, so slowly. His hand touches my cheek and I am petrified, and I need to tell him to stop. But the words are lost. And he leans in to fill the space, and all I know is that he's kissing me again. It only takes me a few seconds to come to my senses. I pull back, shaking my head. He takes my hand, looking confused.