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I don’t really know when it happened, he was just another customer in the bookstore after all. It was a slow afternoon when he came in to find foraging books, having bought the backpacking and survivalist shop at the other end of Main Street.
“Will Miller,” he introduced himself, his voice low and smooth, like wildflower honey.
“You’re new,” I said rather than asked.
“It’s that obvious?”
“It’s a town of less than a thousand people, most of whom are just the latest generation of their family to live here. Easy to spot the new ones.”
He chuckled, the sound sending a warm thrill through me. “Fair enough.”
“So foraging? Shouldn’t someone who owns a survivalist store kinda know how it works?” I tease.
“The survivalist part I’ve got down pat,” Will confirms. “Ex delta force.” I cocked one eyebrow up. “But we had rations and honestly, I need to brush up on this area anyway. It’s nicer than most of the places we got sent.”
I got lost in his stories, a world away from the little mountain town I’d lived my whole life in, and we became fast friends. Most of our weekends, if he wasn’t leading a group hike, were spent together, in the woods or at one of our houses, laughing.
The first big storm we had after he moved in, he called me and asked me to come over, sounding freaked out. When I got there, he told me about his ex-fiance and the moment in the grocery store when he realized just how bad his PTSD was, about the things that triggered it, and I realized he’d called so he wouldn’t be alone in the storm.
My heart hurt so much for him, and I just sat that night, my arms around him, reminding him that he was okay, he was home, he was safe. I always tried to be strong for Will, even more than I did for everyone else because I knew he was always the strong one and needed the support. It worked for a long time, until one afternoon.
It had been a hard week, I’d had major issues at work, hurtful comments from my family, and then, the cherry on the sundae, a man at the farmers market had sneered at me and said “you’d be prettier if you weren’t so fat.” I felt useless, ugly, and burdensome, holing up under a blanket on my sofa, hiding from everyone, including Will, who had texted several times.
I shouldn’t have been surprised when he showed up at my front door, worried that he couldn’t reach me.
“I’m fine, Will,” I insisted, red-eyed. “You don’t need to waste your evening on me.”
His blue eyes bored into mine, unconvinced by my bravado. “You’re not, and it’s okay,” he murmured, pulling me into his arms. “You wanna sit down and tell me what happened?”
I shook my head but let him maneuver me to the couch, draping my legs over his lap, with one arm around my shoulders.
“Sweetheart, please tell me what happened.”
“Oh Will, I don’t wanna bother you. I’m just useless and stupid.”
He shifted his arm and took my face in his big hands. “You are neither of those things and anyone who made you feel that way doesn’t deserve your time.”
I felt the tears piling up and I bit my lip, “I’m so tired Will,” I whispered, leaning into his chest. “I’m so tired of being strong all the time.” His arms wrapped around me, holding me to his chest as I sobbed, finally releasing the pain I’d been holding in.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m here. I’m here” he rubbed a hand up and down my back as I cried, murmuring softly into my hair. When my tears finally slowed and pulled back to look at him, he whispered, “Do I ask too much of you? You’re always there for me and supporting me when I have episodes. Is it too much?”
I could see the fear in his eyes, fear that he’d hurt me, fear that I’d leave too. “Oh no Will. Never. I just...it was a lot this week. But it isn’t you. Never you.”
He leaned down to kiss my forehead, still holding me tightly. “Good. I couldn’t….I don’t want to be a part of that, of your hurt.”
“Not gonna happen Will. You’re what makes it better.” I looked at him, just watching his smile for a moment, then pressed my lips to his.
“I’ll always be here sweetheart. Always.”