"You've hauled us onto our feet plenty without thinking less of us. You must let us do the same for you, and trust that we only feel glad to be given the opportunity to do so. To help you," she says, and she sounds more like herself to her own ears.
It would be so easy to sweep her off her feet and tuck her into bed and wrap himself around her until the despair passes, but there is distance to be maintained, and so he must hold fast to her hands and endure.
“I should trust in that,” he says. “Thank you, Jill. I promise to share more when I have the strength to.”
She looks at him. She doesn't want him to go, but she's the one that sent him to the basement, this time. She runs her thumbs over his skin before letting go of his hands.
She has no right to go back and forth on a whim. It's unfair to him.
"Thank you for taking care of me," she tells him. "And... I look forward to our date."
Something to look forward to for the both of them, she hopes.
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“I know,” he says. He doesn’t like it at all, but he knows it to be true. “It’s just the embarrassment, to be seen weakened.”
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She holds his hands tighter.
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“I should trust in that,” he says. “Thank you, Jill. I promise to share more when I have the strength to.”
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"I believe in you, Clive. That won't change." She believes in his good heart, even if hurt and anger can cloud it.
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“Thank you,” he says. A pause. “It’s late. You need rest, as do I. I’ll put your bike in the garage and we’ll see each other in the morning.”
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She has no right to go back and forth on a whim. It's unfair to him.
"Thank you for taking care of me," she tells him. "And... I look forward to our date."
Something to look forward to for the both of them, she hopes.
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“Any time, Jill,” he says, softly. “I’ll let you know when and where.”