Almost

She had been badly hurt. Her father molested her. When she finally came out and told them her father threatened to kill himself, they were more worried about her father than her. They turned on her, said she broke up the family. She was forced to leave. Fell in with a narcissist, convinced he was the only one who would ever love her she stayed for 30 years. She was finally able to leave her husband, but she had to walk away from her whole life, friends, children, all of it. He turned all of them against her. 
A few years later, she was my neighbour. When my wife died she listened. Listened as I fell apart. Listened to my sorrow, my rage, my grief. 
In turn I listened to her. Listened to her stories of hurt, betrayal and abuse. 
I talked her into a date, and then another. The first time we had sex I remember the look that came over her as she approached orgasm, it was approaching fear. She simply said "what are you doing"? I realised that no one had ever done that to her. 53 years old and no man had taken the time to make it about her. (I remember another ex of mine, she once said there is sex and then there is masturbating into a a moist hole). I almost stopped, but she didn't ask me to stop so I gave her the orgasm and then stopped and held her tight. She was happy and shocked at the same time. 
A short while later she stayed the night. I slipped out of bed first thing in the morning, made her a coffee and slipped back into the room. 53 years old, and it was the first time in her life someone had bought her coffee in bed. One morning I made her breakfast in bed. She said she hated it, no one had done that, ever, and she had no idea how to eat a meal in bed. 
She said she loved spending time with me. I was the first person she could be herself with, she never had to feel like she was walking on eggshells, she could be grumpy, happy, whatever, and I was fine with it. 
I was careful, I was the one to pick up on the fact that she unconsciously became agitated if a male stood between her and the door. I looked, studied as only an aspie can, and learned everything that made her uncomfortable and made sure it didn't happen. 
Although I always drove the long way around the carpark at the supermarket. She was soooo adorable grumping about it until she realized I was doing it on purpose. Then she was even more adorable glaring at me. 
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My wife died from complications of cancer. And when she also got cancer my mind was screaming. But I kept it together. She knew I had reversed my wifes cancer and wanted to know everything I did. So I bought all the memories back. I told her and explained it to her. She followed it all, I am pleased to say that after 90 days Drs confirmed it was gone. But damn that was hard. 
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I messed up dear reader. I grabbed, and held on. I wanted her with me. Someone beside me in my bed at night. Someone to hold me when my demons came out to play and I fell apart. 
She wasn't ready for that. She started pushing away. It hurt me. The more I wanted her close the more she pushed away. She ended it. I swore I would never make her feel trapped so I let her go. We are still best friends. But she isn't ready for anything as close as I need. 
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Bruised. Not broken. But close to breaking in our own ways.