Someone's Someone

Someone's Someone - Chapter Twenty Five

Danny....

I joked about Henna keeping her lips to herself, knowing that I really didn't want her to. When I saw her loading up her car, I could see that she had been crying. Her swollen eyes spoke to me, even before she actually did. The urgency of my desperate need to hold her, knocked me emotionally sideways. I have never felt that protective of someone before. I have never felt so physically wounded, by someone else's pain. Never.

I did all that I could to make Henna feel better; ultimately making myself feel better. And it was while I held her in my arms, that I saw Keith. And it was then that I knew—it was me that he hated.

Yes, Henna has hurt him.

But it is me that he really hates.

He hates the closeness he sees between Henna and I.

He hates that it's me and not him who is feeling that closeness.

To some extent, I understand Keith's deep resentment for me, because if I'm being truly honest with myself, I now resent him.

When Henna told me that she had recently kissed him, I felt like I had been violently kicked in the guts. Again, I've not ever felt that before. I'm a man, but I'm a man who has always believed that there's a someone for every single person who walks this sometimes shitty planet. And now knowing how it felt to see Henna upset, how it felt to know that she's recently kissed Keith; makes me want to believe that I could be Henna's someone. I know I'm not yet worthy enough to claim Henna as my own, but I think my beating heart already has. It's selfish and borderline impossible, but I know it is what it now feels. What I unimaginably also feel. And feeling it makes me more alive than I can ever rationally put into words. My heart knows Henna. It beats harder whenever she's around. My pumping muscle wants her to know that it knows whenever she's around.

But for all that I feel. All that I amazingly do feel. I can't give in to those feelings. I need to first prove to myself that I deserve this beautiful woman. Then, I can prove to both Henna and her father, that I deserve to be in her life. Until that day comes, I have to sit tight. I have to keep my feelings to myself. Which isn't easy. Because wonderful things seem to happen whenever me and Henna are together. Things that can't be explained, and yet, won't ever need explaining. And because I feel all of this, I'm beginning to wonder whether I should tell her the truth? The truth about why I ended up living on the streets of Bristol?

It's not pretty.

It's not pleasant.

But if I am to be worthy of Henna, she needs to hear my truth.

If we are to have even the slightest chance of a future together, I have to confess my past. If Henna can then still look at me in the same way after hearing all of it, then I'll know the risk I took on telling her, was completely worth it.

"Are you prepping or fondling those duck breasts?" Martin Nolan abruptly asks.

With my mind distantly wrapped up in thoughts of only his wonderful daughter, I realise that my enthusiastic offer to help him with the dinner is now miserably failing. "Sorry, I was miles away." With an apology and gentle gusto, I finish massaging in the marinade of soy sauce, ginger, jalapeños, brown sugar and coriander that I'd not long made.

"I know you're still recuperating, but we need to start thinking about doing you a CV for when you're able to start applying for jobs. Working is good for a mans soul." Martin looks sideways at me, then at the four dressed duck breasts, seemingly impressed with my marinade. "Do you like to cook, Danny?" He asks, as he continues to peel the parsnip in his hand.