Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
The bed in there is king-sized because all the beds in this house are apparently king-sized and large enough to fit a small army. My mom and Heather are both sound asleep, each on opposite ends, and the murder psycho cat of hot death is passed out at my sister’s feet, curled into a little cuddly black and white ball of not-so-hateful hate. I can’t believe it.
Very quietly, I tiptoe across the room. I crawl onto the end of the bed, moving lightly. The mattress is of a crazy good quality, and it barely moves or shifts as I make my way across it. The cat wakes up, hisses at me, and then puts its head back down on its paws when it decides I’m not much of a threat. Or maybe it’s just waiting until I get down to its level before it attacks because it would have more chance of being effective then.
I lift the blankets and crawl under them. Then, I curl around Heather like one end of a parenthesis, bracketing her body with mine. I’m relieved to feel that she’s warm and solid.
A few minutes later, even in sleep, my mom rolls into me.
I lie there in the dark with my eyes closed, but I don’t sleep because I don’t want to let this moment go.
I’m right in the middle of the world’s most perfect sandwich.
Chapter fourteen
Darius
Everleigh is sad. It’s been a few days since her mom and sister and the evil cat of hot death went home. She’s currently in the library, acting like she’s not sad, which I only know because Hans told me. Hans told me she definitely is, though. In case I had any doubts.
I don’t know what I can do to cheer her up. I don’t even know what she likes besides PB&J and my mouth between her legs. And I can’t go there. Because that’s definitely not what she needs right now. Maybe not ever again. The first time wasn’t a mistake, but we’re taking a step back from that. I don’t want to mess up the good things I do have, and I don’t want to push her or hurt her, so I’m not thinking about that. Not going there.
She was there for me when I had no idea I needed her most, and she told me all the things I didn’t know I needed someone to tell me.
The intimacy of it was nearly unbearable, but I survived. We both did. And thankfully, things haven’t been weird after. I don’t feel ready to tell all this shit to a stranger so they can pick my brain apart, but I do feel better. Calm and peaceful even. No nightmares, and no days of fear and panic, churning stomachs, and compressed lungs and chest such that I can barely breathe. There are also no moments of ending up back there in the painful aftermath that was the downward spiral to the end of my dad’s life.
It wasn’t so much what Everleigh said to me, though that did have a significant impact. It’s that she was there with me. Period. I wasn’t alone. Okay, so I haven’t technically been alone since I hired Hans because he’s a good friend. My brothers and sisters are just a phone call away as well, but none of them are Everleigh. Especially not Hans. I laugh at that in my head, which probably makes me doubly a weirdo.
She didn’t like that I was hurting, but she was there anyway. She didn’t need me to be more than who I thought I could be. Not that she meant I should be in pain mentally or emotionally, but she made me feel like it was okay to feel shitty about shitty things. It was her easy acceptance of me and her celebration of who I am even now that calmed me right the hell down. It makes me want to be better, to try talking to someone again. Maybe.
I just don’t know how. I’m not broken or emotionally stunted. I mean, okay, maybe I should qualify that or something, but I’m a guy, and guys are notoriously bad at this. I’ve also lived alone for a long time. It’s been even longer since I’ve had real friends or felt the bonds of actual family. Yup, I suck. And I’m lost.
“Dude, your thinking is so loud over here that it’s interrupting my book, and this is a good book.” Hans lowers the book, some steamy, hot Scottish-style romance with a guy in a kilt on the front cover. “What’s up?”
“You sent Everleigh to my room a few nights ago.”
“Yup.”
“How did you know to do that? What if I’d lost my shit or something? Said something horrible or made her cry?”
“I know how you are, D. You wouldn’t do that. You needed some calming down that my ugly mug couldn’t supply. Don’t think I haven’t noticed that you’ve been different since Everleigh came here. I’ve noticed.”