PART 2 OF CHAPTER 55

. . . . . .

It was a little after midnight when Chris finally pulled into his designated parking lot. Rounding the car one last time for the night, he carefully tugged the passenger's seat door open before reaching over to unbuckle Naomi's seat belt.

He felt her stir in her sleep, soft murmurs escaping her lips as he ducked into his car and gently slid one hand behind her neck and the other beneath the back of her knees. He carried her out of the car ever so cautiously and kicked the door shut with his leg before setting off for the elevator.

The journey from the semi-empty parking lot all the way up to the front door of his condo unit proved to be quite a struggle for Chris because not only did he accidentally tap on the 5th floor by accident---he lived on the 6th---but he also, accidentally, bumped Naomi's left foot against his front door when he was trying to slot the key in. Eventually, he decided to use the crook of his elbow to support the back of her knees so that it made unlocking his front door much easier for him.

Once he got inside, he kicked the door shut with his foot and padded across the living room to lay Naomi down on the couch. Chris then moved to take her boots off, slowly and carefully, as he made sure not to wake her from her slumber. He took her boots, purse and both their coat and jacket over to the standing coat rack that was right beside the front door and hung them all up before setting her boots beside the rosewood-coloured rack.

He blew out sigh before padding into the kitchen to get himself a glass of water. His mind wouldn't stop racing at all the possible reasons that could have induced Naomi into getting herself drunk. She didn't seem like the type to get drunk because she was always watchful of what and how much she drank, even when they'd both attended the black-tie event together back in Massachusetts.

He sighed again, downing what was left in his glass before walking towards his bedroom. Along the way, he snuck a brief glance at the sleeping woman on his couch just to make sure she hadn't rolled off the couch---and also to see if she'd awoken.

Flipping the switch on, he grabbed one of his pillows off the bed and a blanket from one of the drawers before padding into the living room. He gently placed the pillow and blanket on one of the couch's armrests and peered over at Naomi who was still asleep, although this time she'd turned to her left and her face was now buried in the cushions.

Chris moved to pick her up gently off the couch and strided into his bedroom to lay her on the king-sized bed. He slipped the comforter over her and bunched up its sides right next to her body to make sure she was warm enough. His eyes darted from her closed eyelids to her lightly scrunched up eyebrows to the subtle frown on her lips.

Even when she was asleep, she was still exuding the same inexplicable sorrow he felt when he was driving her home. It was practically radiating off of her, seeping out of her bones and coursing through the veins that ran across her entire being.

He wanted to kiss away the creases that were forming between her brows, to kiss away her tear-stained cheeks and the frown on her lips because this woman deserved nothing but all the happiness this great big world has to offer.

But he knew he couldn't.

With his heart weighing like a ton of bricks, Chris got up to his feet, took one last glance at Naomi and headed out to his living room. He flopped down on to his couch just as he blew out a frustrated sigh because the thoughts in his mind couldn't seem to leave him alone. The gears in his mind were still churning at the words that left Naomi's lips during the drive back to her condo.

"I'm sorry, Chris. . . m'sorry I can't. . ."

They were still churning at the thought of her having some troubles with her parents since Gerard the bartender mentioned that to him earlier tonight, and how he said he hoped that Chris could find it in him to forgive her.

Chris knew that he shouldn't be overthinking all this but he couldn't help it---he was always one to overthink, always one who cared way more than an average person should, always one who left things unsaid because of the fear of the repercussions that might follow suit.

Pulling the blanket up to his chin, he laid awake for what seemed like hours, the gears in his mind still churning away, before finally allowing sleep to take over.

. . . . . .

"My, God, Ella! Do you even care about our daughter at all?!"

"It's not like we even planned to have her in the first place, Alex!"

While the two adults carried on with their shouts and arguments, little Naomi sat quietly on her bedroom floor as she rocked back and forth with her hands cupped over her ears. As tears continued to stream down her cheeks ever so furiously, she carried on with reciting the same thing she told herself just three days ago when her parents were arguing in the kitchen.

"Mamma and pappa are fighting. . . and soon, it will all be over. None of their fights would matter after this because all mammas and pappas fight, and their love is stronger than that. Mamma and pappa love each other. Nothing will happen. Nothing like what my friends in school said could happen will happen because mamma and pappa are different. They love each other and they love me."

Despite reciting those words for the tenth time tonight, Naomi's feeble voice could barely be heard by her own self and right then, she felt like what her friends said could happen will actually befall her parents---that they would separate and she would have to choose who to live with. How could she choose who to live with when she loved both her parents dearly? Would they make her choose? Would they make her pick sides?

At the tender age of twelve, little Naomi had already seen her parents at what could be described as their worst. Ugly and hurtful words were thrown across the living room like it was nothing, like it meant nothing at all to either of the two adults.

Even though she didn't understand what exactly they were fighting about, she knew that she was included into the conversation because she kept hearing her father mentioning 'our daughter' or 'Naomi' downstairs. Had she been a bad daughter? Was it because she threw a slight tantrum after getting lectured by her ballet teacher last week?

A loud bang sounded from outside Naomi's room, snapping her out of her thoughts as she scrambled off the floor and rushed to her door. Slowly, she opened the door just enough for her to take a peek at what was going on outside and found her father leaning his forehead against the door to her parents' bedroom.

Through the small crack between the door and its frame, she could vaguely see her father sobbing as he pleaded with her mother from the other side of the door.

Just as little Naomi was about to run to her father to stop him from crying, her mother emerged from the room and stormed past him with a duffel bag in hand. Naomi heard her mother trudge down the stairs and watched as her father rushed after her, his footsteps heavy against the wooden stairs.

At this, the little girl cracked her door open a little wider and tiptoed out of it before sitting at the top of the stairs while the two adults continued to argue down in the living room.

"At least stay for Naomi," she heard her father plead. His voice sounded so utterly frail, like he'd been beaten to a pulp. She felt her heart wrench.

"I told you, Alex," her mother bit back, her voice as shaky as her father's. "I've found someone else who can give me what I want, what I need and the freedom that I desire. I know you can care for Naomi yourself---I've seen you do it on the nights I wasn't home and plus, Naomi's always been closer to you growing up. You're her hero," she said nonchalantly.

"She's only twelve, Ella!" Alex reasoned angrily. "Naomi doesn't deserve to have her own mother leave her for her own selfish reasons. You can choose to cut off all ties with me but not Naomi. She's your daughter, for God's sake."

Without a single word, Ella readjusted the duffel bag in her hand and pulled the door open, storming out of the Lindberg household. Naomi, having witnessed this from atop the stairs, cried out for her mother and raced down the flight of stairs. Alex, shocked to see his daughter out of her room, quickly crouched down and scooped her up as the little one began to thrash in his arms.

"Mamma!"

Alex tried his best not to cry at the sound of his daughter's shrill cries as he held her close to him. With her small hands planted firmly on her father's arms, Naomi watched as her mother walked down the quiet neighbourhood street, her duffel bag in hand, and never once sparing a glance at the little girl who was crying out for her.

"Mamma, come back!"

"Please, mamma!" The little girl choked on her own sobs as she tried to break free from her father's grasp. She slapped his arms and furiously pushed past it, breaking free from her father's grasp as she began to chase after her mother who was not too far off.

"Naomi!" Alex yelled as he ran after his daughter.

"Mamma!" Naomi yelled, panting as the tears in her eyes began to cloud her vision once more. Her mother still hadn't spared her a glance. "Mamma, please wait!"

Just as Naomi thought she was close to catching up with her mother's pace, she felt herself being reeled backwards, not by her father but by some sort of force. It felt as though she was running on a treadmill, never moving forward and with only the risk of falling off the belt if she stopped running.

Soon, everything around her started to fade into black and the only thing she could see now ahead of her was her mother walking further away from her.

"Mamma!" she pleaded, extending her arm out in hopes that she could reach for her mother. "Mamma, please turn around!"

"MAMMA!"

Naomi jolted awake almost immediately after she yelled for her mother, her forehead now beaded with cold sweat as she desperately gasped for air with her hands furiously grasping the sheets around her.

She left me, she left dad, she left us, was all that was going through Naomi's head at the moment and she hadn't even realized that the room she sat in had brightened up. She felt the bed dip down a little but she thought that maybe this was still a part of her earlier dream.

"Naomi! Naomi, it's okay," a calm voice spoke from beside her as she felt a hand on her back and another on her forearm. "It's okay. . . you're okay. You're okay, you're safe."

Slowly, Naomi turned to her left to see who it was and realized it was Chris---the man she couldn't allow herself to fall for, the man who wore his heart on his sleeve. He was here. He was right here with her---though, she wondered if this was another part of her dream. . . her nightmare.

Her tired and teary eyes were darting frantically from his face to every corner of the room she was in as her hands carelessly reached out to feel the comforter that laid heavy against her thighs and abdomen.

"You're okay," he whispered, rubbing his hand up and down her back to soothe her as he brought her out from her daze. He felt her draw in a deep breath before releasing it slowly, knowing she was trying to steady her erratic breathing. "You're okay."

Remembering what she'd dreamt about---or more appropriately, what childhood memory she'd revisited---she could feel the waterworks threatening to flood her eyes and taint her cheeks once more but she knew she had to prevent it. Biting down on her quivering bottom lip, she tried to desperately to prevent the salty tears from spilling over but every attempt was futile as they began to violently trickle down her cheeks.

She lowered her head until her chin was nearly touching the base of her neck, thinking that if she did this, Chris wouldn't notice but he did and he swore he nearly stopped breathing. He snaked his arm around her petite frame and scooted closer to her. Instinctively, Naomi placed her balled up fist on his sturdy chest and buried her face in the crook of his neck while soft apologies left her lips.

"There's nothing to be sorry for, Naomi," Chris said, his voice low, soft and soothing as he wrapped his other arm around her. "Please don't apologize. . . "

Naomi felt Chris rest his chin on her head as he continued to rub her arms soothingly, lightly rocking them both back and forth as silence draped over the two of them. She felt herself crumble in his arms. She felt her heart wrench because she realized that he had just witnessed her at her worst and even had to console and comfort her while he lost the sleep he needed.

He shouldn't have.

He shouldn't have to do this.

He shouldn't have to quell her demons.

But she felt safe in his arms---she felt so utterly safe and warm in his arms that it made her wonder if it was even remotely possible to feel that safe in the arms of someone you love, in the arms of someone who constantly puts your needs before his. . . in the arms of someone like him.

"You can't love me, Chris."

---
a/n; not gonna lie, writing this chapter really tugged at my heart strings.

also, i do hope you're all enjoying the story so far! thank you so much for your constant love and support! it truly does mean the world to me ❤