I feel like the drive to Derek’s is taking forever. My hands twist on the steering wheel as I steady my breath. I just want to be there to hold him. I wipe my eyes again as I turn onto his street, my chest feeling tight. I really need to pull myself together and be strong for him, but I keep thinking about her. His mom was such a sweet woman. My heart aches for him… and for me. I had to pull over to get out the tears, but they keep coming back. I thought I was prepared, but I think I was only preparing him.

I struggle to breathe in as I stop at the last red light. I swear I’ve hit everyone. I sit back in the seat. The intersection is devoid of anyone. Just darkness this late at night.

I wish Derek hadn’t pushed me away. I don’t think I’ll be able to take it if he tells me to leave when I get there. I hit the gas slowly as the light turns green. I won’t be able to take it. I want to comfort him and be there for him, but I’m not okay either. I need someone too.

I pull into Derek’s driveway, the car only just now starting to heat up. My body is trembling from a mix of the cold and my nerves.

I practically run up the stone path to the front door, but when I get there I pause. Please don’t push me away Derek. Please. I need you too. It’s unlocked, so I go right in. I don’t even hesitate. My breathing comes in heavy, my lungs hurting from the sharp cold air.

I run down the hallway and straight for his mom’s room. My heart's beating so fast; I’m still wishing it’s not true. I still expect to find her there. It’s foolish, but I can’t help denying the truth of the simple text message.

But she’s not there. Neither is Derek.

Her bed’s empty, and the medical equipment is turned off. It’s so quiet, so surreal. She was just in here, talking to me like nothing was wrong. I close my eyes remembering how she told me to take care of him. I didn’t think much of it, but as I hear her voice I can see she was saying good bye. The last words she told me. I cover my mouth and hold in the sob as I lean against the wall. I will. I promise I will.

A moment passes, my body heating with the agony of her loss as I struggle to right myself.

I’m a fucking mess, but I’ll be there for him. That’s all I need to do. I take one last look around the blush-colored bedroom and walk back into the hall. I can’t close the door. Something in me just wants to leave it open. I can’t shut it.

I look over my shoulder for one final glance into the room as I walk away and down the hall. I almost call out for Derek, but then I hear a sound in the living room. I can’t place what the noise is. But it draws me to him. A moth to flame.

It’s so quiet. It’s ominous. I walk into the dark room and whisper his name. He’s sitting in the dark. I can just barely make him out. He's leaning forward in the white armchair with his head in his hands.

My heart breaks for him. I don’t wait for him to look up; I go straight to him and wrap my arms tightly around him. He doesn’t even say anything as he wraps his arms around my waist and buries his face in my shoulder.

I hold him for a long time, running my hands up and down his back and kissing the top of his head. His face is wet. He’s obviously been crying. I can’t take it. I don’t want to ever see him in pain like this.

“It’s okay,” I whisper without thinking. It’s not really. And I can’t make it okay. I wish I could take it back. If only words were a physical thing, and I could rip them from the air before they reached his ears. My heart clenches in my chest as he shakes his head slightly, not responding.

“Thank you,” he says after a few minutes. His voice is raw.

He quickly wipes around his eyes before picking his head up to look at me. My heart stops in my chest. Holy fuck! His left eye is almost swollen shut. My breath comes up short, and I don’t know how to react.

What the fuck happened?

“For not listening to me. For coming,” he says before leaning in for a quick kiss. He doesn’t address the fact that it looks like he got hit by a fucking tractor-trailer of fists. There’s a huge scratch down his neck, and several bruises forming on his jaw and cheek.

He got fucked up.

I can taste the salt from his tears on his lips. It takes me a moment to even register what he said.

I rub the back of his neck as I say, “Of course I'm here. I’m always going to be here for you.” I say truthful words, but I’m still waiting for him to tell me why the hell he looks like that. I was only behind him by maybe a half an hour. I know I drive slower than him, and I had to take some time to process it when Sandra texted me. I was an emotional wreck, but I wasn’t that far behind him. What the fuck happened?

“Ma…” Derek swallows thickly.

“I know,” I say quickly, so he doesn’t have to. “I texted Sandra after you left.”

He nods his head once and then looks down, avoiding my gaze.

“You really are the sweetest person I have ever met,” he says in a hoarse voice leaning into me again, his hold on me stronger than ever before.

I want to ask him about his face. The only thing I can think of is that he did it to himself. The thought makes me sick. I can’t stand it. I need to ask him, but I can’t right now. I’m struggling to process everything.

“Come on, why don't we have a drink and then try to get some sleep?” And with that, I pull him into the kitchen, my heart beating frantically as I try to figure out what happened.

He sits down on a stool at the island and runs his hands through his hair. “I don't even know where to begin with everything that I have to do this week. Ma’s had everything in order for a while now, but I just can’t think about making arrangements for her funeral.” His voice cracks.

I grab each of us a glass from the cabinet, and pour some brandy in each. I need a drink, too.

“I'll help you. Don't worry about it tonight,” I say as I carry the two glasses over to the island. As I set the glasses down, I see that his knuckles are bloody again. They're much worse than the night at the restaurant. I'm really hoping he just hit a wall though and not a person this time. I stare at them for a long moment, refusing to look at his face.

He notices, but doesn’t say anything. Just like he always does.

We drink our brandy in silence. I’m waiting. I’ll wait for him this time. He has to tell me. I won’t pry. He has to know by now I won’t judge him, that I only want to help him. And he needs help. He desperately needs help.

I grab his hands and look into his pale blue eyes. “I’m here for you,” I tell him soothingly. I try to rub my thumb over his knuckles, but they hit the cuts and it stops me; it makes me pull away from him.

He looks down at the countertop as he says, “Don't leave me tonight, sweetheart. I need you. I don't want to be alone right now.”

“I'm here, and I'll be here for as long as you want me,” I say reassuringly. He looks so tired; he looks emotionally abused and raw. I want to hold him, scream at him to find out what he’s done, and question him until he tells me the truth. But I can’t.

He leads me toward the stairs, and I feel like shit. Nothing feels right. How can he just avoid something so obviously wrong? Even worse, how can I let him? Because his mother just died!

God, I feel sick.

As we get to the staircase, my phone goes off. It's Sandra. I anticipated she’d call me. I wonder what she would do about Derek. About finding him like this.

What the hell happened?

I respond back quickly, only pausing for a second.

What?

Her response is instantaneous.

Why did Derek attack Tony?

What the fuck!? My feet turn to stone, refusing to move as the message hits me. Derek attacked Tony? My heart stops in my chest as Derek tries to pull me along and up the stairs. I let him. I silence my phone, and I just try to breathe.

I can’t believe he hit Tony. I eye him as we walk. What did he say? What did he do?

He keeps covering his face with his other hand. He needs so much help. He’s so lost. I have no fear for my own life whatsoever, but for his? I’m so scared for him. My heart is breaking.

I stop at the entrance to his bedroom, and he keeps walking, right into the bathroom and washes his hands and splashes some water on his face.

I can’t explain how I feel as I sit on the end of the bed. It groans slightly as I shift my weight.

I love a man who’s fucked up. I know that. But I never guessed he’d take it out on Tony. I stare at the open door to the bathroom, wondering why.

Finally, I decide I have to ask him about it. I can’t just pretend. Even with his mom dying. This is just too much. “Derek, what happened with Tony? Sandra just texted me,” I say, trying not to sound accusing, as he turns off the faucet.

His jaw tenses, and he clenches his fists. Anger and hatred are apparent on his face.

“He's dead to me,” he says brusquely. I sit there in disbelief. My lips part, but I can’t think of a response.

He climbs into bed, ignoring me. He lays down, but I can’t. I won’t. I wait a moment, trying to collect my thoughts and shift on the bed to be closer to him.

“I need you to tell me.” I say quietly, the somber tone reflecting the air surrounding us.

“I can’t,” he says and then rolls onto his side, away from me. I suck in a sharp breath.

“You’re not okay-”

“I know!” he yells. “Please, just drop it.” He almost whispers the last part.

My shoulders tremble as I struggle with right and wrong, giving and taking. His mother just passed. He’s physically and emotionally fucked up. I need to be here for him, but how can I be if he won’t tell me what’s going on in his head?

I go into the bathroom quietly and shut the door. I text Sandra back.

Derek won't tell me anything. I didn't even know he attacked Tony until I got your text. WTF happened?

I start pacing back and forth across the marble floor. It's a few minutes before I get her response.

Tony & I were together at his place. Work called asked me to come in to help fix a mistake. T wanted to go see D’s mom. Dropped him off on my way. 2hours later Tony messaged about D’s mom. I pull up and hear shouting, go in. D was beating the shit out of Tony.

Another text comes through as I'm reading the first one again.

Tried to pull them apart. D said he'd never forgive T. T said it was about D’s mom. He won't tell me anything.

All I can keep thinking is What. The. Fuck? I sit down on the edge of the tub, gripping the cold porcelain edge.

I put my phone back in my wristlet, turn off the bathroom light, and open the door to the bedroom. Derek doesn't move when I walk into the room and set my wristlet on his dresser causing the metal chain to clink.

“I found out about your mom from Sandra,” I say as I crawl into bed. “I found out about the fight from her too,” my words are soft as I cuddle up to him. His stiff and unmoving, ready to push me away I’m sure. Refusing to open up. “I want to be here for you, but I need to know what’s going on so I can give you what you need.” I stare at his eyes, willing him to look at me, but he’s focused on the ceiling, as if all the answers are written up there.

I rest my head on his forearm, his body’s warm and inviting. He slowly wraps his arm around me, maybe realizing I don’t want to fight. I’m just telling him the truth.

“Right now I just need you to lay with me. Just don’t leave me.” My throat feels like it’s closing listening to the raw vulnerability in his cracked voice. I nod my head and kiss his shoulder before nestling down next to him.

I think sometimes you have to push people; sometimes you have to make them open up to you.

And other times you need to trust them. You just need to hold them.

Maybe I’ve been doing it all wrong all these years not pushing him, but in this moment, he just needs me to hold him. He needs someone.

I slip my shoes off and climb into bed next to him. I turn off the second table lamp and roll toward Derek. Kissing his shoulder, I wrap my arm around him.

Right now he just needs to feel loved. I can give him that, because I really do love him. Even if he is a broken mess.

I scoot a little closer to him, my eyes adjust to the dim light of the night and I can see the dark bruise on his jaw. “Does it hurt?” I ask him softly.

He immediately nods his head, his forehead pinched and his breathing paused. “It hurts so much.” His words are choked as he moves his hand over his face.

My heart splits into a thousand pieces as he breaks down in front of me.

“I’m here,” I tell him with as much comfort as I can put in my voice. I try to hold him, but he doesn’t move. I don’t know what to do.

As if reading my mind, Derek says, “I’ll be whatever you want. I’ll give you whatever you want. I’ll tell you everything. Please, just don’t leave me.” He finally opens his eyes, their filled with sadness and vulnerability, pleading with me.

“I promise I won’t. I promise you.”

How can I? When you love someone, they never leave you.