Chelsea woke to sunlight, and the feeling of Elias' body pressed against her, warm, smooth, and strong. Her thoughts were confusing, however, as to why she was in his bed. She told him what she was, what Tomas made her into. Why was she still here, and not in the guest room?
"Good morning, baby," Elias said.
"Good morning," she said weakly, feeling the heat of his breath on her neck with a longing ache. "I'm… I'm not sure… I don't know how I got here."
He pulled her closer and she whimpered slightly, wanting to turn around and embrace him, but controlled herself.
"What do you remember, Chelsea?" he asked.
"We went for a ride, and then we hot tubbed. Then I told you what I was, and then… I don't… it's not clear. I can't remember."
"Chelsea?"
"Yes?"
"That's not what you are, baby, it's what happened to you. Do you understand that? Do you understand the difference?"
She wanted to say yes, she really did, but that wasn't the way of things. "I'm… I should probably get up and pack."
"No baby, that's not what you should do at all."
"It isn't?" she asked, trembling.
"No baby," he told her.
"What should I do?" she asked, tears coming to her eyes.
"You should stay with me. I care about you. You're my woman, my riding partner. I care about you."
She started crying then. "Why? How can you?"
"How could I not?" he asked.
She pondered on that for a moment and found nothing to say, so she asked, "What happened to me last night? Did something bad happen?"
"You had a problem, yes. But Doc is here, and she's going to make sure you are alright. We'll probably go down to the hospital with her, and have you checked out, but you are safe, and there's nothing to worry about. Just a checkup, alright."
"How bad of a problem? What problem? Please tell me Elias, I'm a little scared."
"You have what's called post-traumatic stress disorder. PTSD. Do you know what that is?"
"Not really, no. Isn't that what soldiers get?"
"Yes, they get it, and people who have been through what you have been through get it, too. But we're going to take care of you. I'm going to take care of you. I don't want you to leave me, alright? Please? I really want you to stay with me."
"You really want me to stay?"
"Yes, lover, I really want you to stay. I care about you very much. I want to help you. So does Doc, and Larry, and John. We all want you to stay."
"Larry? John? They know too?" she asked, her trembling increasing.
"Yes, I told them some of it so they would understand what was going on with you."
"They know what I am?"
"They know what happened to you, yes. They know you are a wonderful woman, and they care about you a great deal."
"I'm not a wonderful woman."
"You're my woman, and you are wonderful to me."
She fell silent, trying to make sense of what he was saying, but it didn't make any sense at all. She was nothing—a nonentity. How could he possibly care about her? How could he feel wonderful about a woman like her in his bed? He was a good man, a real man. He should have a real woman.
"Do you trust me Chelsea?" Elias asked her.
"Yes, I trust you." She nodded, truthfully.
"Then don't worry about this for now. Let's just get up, have some coffee, and talk to Doc. Then we'll do what she thinks is best. Alright?"
"Alright. I'll do that," she agreed. "I'll make some coffee for us. Do you want breakfast?" Doing things for him seemed natural, felt natural. She was comfortable with the idea of servitude and service. These were things a woman like her was supposed to do, and for Elias, she wanted to do them.
"How about scrambled eggs and bacon?" he suggested.
"I can do that. I'll do that," she agreed, nodding, and slipped out of his arms and out of the bed. Elias followed her. She was hoping he would stay in bed, let her get some distance from him, but he seemed to want to stay close.
"I better put a shirt on if you want bacon," she said weakly. "You know, um, with the grease splatter and all."
"That's probably a good idea," he said with a smile.
"Yeah, I'll put on a shirt. Can I wear one of yours?" she asked.
"Yes, that's just fine."
"Alright." She nodded and went to the closet. She chose one of his long T-shirts and put it on while he slipped into his pants. The shirt came down to the top of her thighs, covering her ass. She liked that it smelled like him. She watched him dress, enjoyed the way he looked. She was happy that he wanted her to at least stay with him. She didn't want to leave. She liked it here.
After he had his pants on, he asked, "Can I have a kiss?"
"A kiss?" she asked, biting her lip.
"Is that alright?"
"Yes, please," she told him.
He took her in his arms, and held her close. She sighed, loving the feeling, and the sense of safety that suddenly washed over her. Then he kissed her, softly, and then deeply. She moaned, and tears came to her eyes.
"Why are you crying, baby?" he asked.
"I'm just so happy you still want to kiss me," she told him.
"I want you—all of you. Your kisses, your hugs. And I want you in this room, not the guest room. The guest room is for visitors, not for you. You belong with me, Chelsea."
She gazed up at him, and felt something very warm inside of her. Tearfully she nodded. "Alright. But you'll tell me to leave if I upset you, right?"
"Upset me?"
"I'm… broken Elias. I know I am. Don't tell me I'm not, because I know better. I don't want you to feel like you have to put up with me if you don't want to."
"No baby, that's not the way of it. That's not what partners do. Yes, you have some things… broken. But I still want you. I still need you."
"Need me?" she asked softly.
"Yes lover. I need you. Very much," he told her.
She thought that over. She needed him too. Was that alright?
"I should make breakfast now," she said, trying to escape her jumbled emotions. The feeling of his arms around her confused her. He shouldn't want to hold her but she loved the feeling, needed the feeling, and the protection he offered. The love he offered.
"Alright, let's go make breakfast and talk to Doc."
"Did she spend the night?"
"Yes, she slept in the guest room."
"Because she's a guest," Chelsea said.
"That's right," Elias agreed.
"She'll want breakfast too. Do we have enough bacon?"
"I'm sure we do," he told her.
"Good. Because you eat a lot of bacon, Elias."
"Yep," he agreed with a smile.
Elias took her hand and walked with her out to the living room. Doc was there, and Chelsea could smell fresh coffee in the air. She left Elias' side so she could go get him a cup.
"Good morning, Chelsea," Doc said as she passed by.
"Thank you for making coffee, Doc," she said as she passed.
"You're welcome," Doc said, following her into the kitchen. "How are you feeling?"
"I have a headache, but it's not bad. How are you?"
"I'm good. Can I help you?"
"Alright. I'm just going to make breakfast. Bacon and eggs. Do you want some?" she asked. Doc wasn't as confusing to talk to as Elias was right now. She was a woman, and not her lover. She also didn't feel like a threat. She felt kind, and genuine. Almost safe. Not quite, but almost.
"That sounds very good," Doc told her.
"Elias said he talked to you about me last night," she ventured.
"Yes?" Doc said.
"He said he told you what I…" she was going to say what I am, but she didn't want to upset Elias, so instead she said, "What happened to me."
"He told me some of it, yes. Would you mind if I take a look at your eyes?"
"No, that would be alright, I guess."
"Do you remember what happened last night?" she asked as she shined a light into her eyes, and flicked it away.
"Some, but I don't think I remember everything. I don't remember going to bed with Elias," she admitted.
"Do you remember me coming over?" Doc asked. "Or John?"
"No, I don't remember that," she replied.
"That's fairly normal for what you went through. Don't worry about it."
"Did I… did I do anything wrong?" she asked.
"No, not at all," Doc told her.
"That's good. Can I make breakfast now? Elias is hungry."
"Sure, I'll help. I'll get the pan ready while you do the eggs."
"Ok," Chelsea agreed, and then she went to the fridge.