The Billionaire's Fragile Bride

25. HERE FOR YOU

"I didn't do anything, Callan. I swear, I didn't do anything to anyone." Orla sobbed, clinging to Callan's arms. She was petrified. All her life, she had never been more scared than she was now.

Callan had zero idea what she was jabbering, but he let her stay there, carefully patting her back to soothe her. "Stay here," he purred.

"She will come for me, they will come for me. They hate me, they all hate me." She muttered in a shaky voice. She slackened her grip on Callan and stepped away from him. "I can't stay here," tears trickled down her cheeks in folds. 

"Hey," He was stressed out after travelling for hours, but the fear that marred Orla's face was perturbing and he wanted to do something to help. 

It was obvious hugging her wouldn't do much and he had no idea what to do to someone who just awoke from a terrible dream. He didn't give a fuck if anyone was hurt, had terrible dreams or was even dying but he had been restless since he left the house and all that crammed his head was one tiny ginger-haired lady—his fragile wife.

She attempted to make it to the door but he grabbed her arms back, not letting her move past him. His palm blanketed her tiny arms, he had never noticed how tiny she was until now and unknown guilt bled inside of him. The guilt of always casting her away, the guilt of always being mean to her and never being there the way he should be. 

The guilt of comfortably cheating on her because he thought she meant nothing to him. She didn't deserve all and he had been an asshole for all he had done. All Orla had ever done was to please him, and even tried to help him in the little way she could.

"Hey, stay still!" He yelled not because he was mad at her, but because he was mad at himself for all he had done to her. He shouldn't be feeling this way, that guilty feeling was far from the things he felt.

"I can't, she will come back here. She will come here, please." She looked into his eyes. "Take me out of here, I can't…" 

"Calm down," he set her on the couch and took her hands in his. "Orla, there is nowhere else that we can go tonight. It's a nightmare, you will be fine, you just have to relax your nerves. I am here for you."

I am here for you.

The words echoed in Orla's ears again and again. Callan had never said that to her.

"But you left," the tears poured harder. She wasn't certain what to do at that point. "You left me alone for weeks and didn't bother to check on me. You hate me too. Everyone does, everyone hates me." 

"Everyone will not like you," he said, again in that quiet voice that made her melt like butter.

Orla looked at him, disheartened. She had expected something different from him, maybe he hadn't changed and she was just assuming that he did.

"But not everyone hates you. You should understand that and stop crying." He said sternly and Orla inwardly submitted to his command by wiping the tears that stained her cheeks with her thumb.

She bit her lips and nodded her head, "I know it, you said it."

Callan smiled, Orla had a cool mien that always got him.  He looked down at her ginger hair and he wanted to place his fingers in between, combing and untangling the curled tendrils that fell across her eyes, but he held himself back.

"What?" He asked when she suddenly jerked away from him.

"I was blabbering earlier." Her eyes were clear and she had stopped crying now. "Forget about all that happened. I was scared and I didn't know what was happening to me." She wobbled into the bedroom, clearly aware that Callan was following after her.