“For a while, I was drinking it all day—black coffee, lattes, cold brew, however I could get it.”
My mind reels to catch up. I’d suspected something with the coffee, but that was only the tip of the iceberg. What does it mean that she’s nearly stopped drinking it since we met? Could something else have replaced it?Me, even? “Huh,” is all I can think to say.
“Yeah.” She swallows audibly. “The writing too. I’ve kept a journal compulsively since I left the psych ward. My counselor there got me to start it. It’s just the past few weeks I haven’t been doing it. I’m sorry.”
She tacks the apology on so quickly, I almost miss it. “Sorry? For what?”
“I’m not what you thought. I didn’t know about your mom. If I had, I might’ve told you all this sooner. Or not. I would’ve been afraid to freak you out.”
“Ah,” I say. “Tell me, what would’ve happened if I’d freaked out?”
“You’d have left,” she says. “I wouldn’t have blamed you. But now that you love me, well . . .” She looks over at me. “Maybe you’re more open to accepting my weird behaviors.”
I bring her back into my chest. “None of it sounds weird to me.”
“How does it sound?”
“Like you went through something traumatic, and nobody really took care of you after.” Any concern I just felt vanishes. At her core, she’s still the fifteen-year-old girl who blames herself for her mom’s death. I doubt anyone tried to convince her otherwise. She’s not obsessed with the photos or me or sex—not that I’d mind since I can’t get enough of her, either. She just stopped drinking coffee because I’m here now, and she doesn’t need it. I satisfy her in ways nobody else has been able. Like she said—she chooses me.
“I’m going to take care of you now,” I say. “I promise.”
“You already have. With you, I’m . . . I’m happier than I’ve ever been. Even when I was taking drugs specifically to be happy.”
We both laugh softly, and I kiss the top of her head. I’m even more confident now that yesterday’s chat with Rich was necessary. Maybe he’s not bad for her, but he’s not right for her. She needs a man strong enough to carry some of her burden, committed enough not to drop it when it’s too heavy. He isn’t that. He couldn’t keep thepatternsat bay like I do. He didn’t protect her. “Speaking of happy stuff,” I say, “we haven’t talked about Sunday.”
“I know. I’ve been afraid to bring it up.”
“Me too.” As if on cue, we both sit up. She gets my t-shirt from the end of the bed. I can’t stand that she still isn’t comfortable enough to be naked with me when we aren’t in the heat of the moment, but I’ll keep working on that. She crosses her legs, and I get a peek under the shirt right before she pulls it over her crotch. We just made love, but my cock stirs. When she tries to hide herself, I’m even more tempted by her.
“Christmas,” she says seriously.
“Yeah. I want to spend it with you.”
She brightens. “I want to spend it with you too.”
I take her hand. “But I can’t. I’ve thought about it from every angle, and I just can’t make it work.”
“Oh.” Her posture droops. “I figured.”
“Kendra’s boyfriend talked her into giving me three days at her parents’, which is why I haven’t had Marissa since earlier this month. It’s the only way I’ll get to watch Marissa open her presents. I didn’t get to spend last Christmas with her, so . . .”
“Then you have to go.” Halston nods. “My dad’s expecting me anyway. I wasn’t sure of your plans, so I didn’t tell him otherwise.”
“If I could bring you, I would.” I can’t. Kendra will never let me forget how I admonished her for introducing her five-week-long boyfriend to Marissa. I’ve known Halston less time than that. “It’s complicated.”
“It’s okay.” She smiles. “I should be with my dad. It’s a difficult time of year for him because of the accident.”
I squeeze her hand. “It’s difficult forbothof you. Last year was hard for me too. Kendra had just learned about the affair.”
“You’re lucky she came around.”
“Yeah. Her boyfriend’s going to be good for her, I think.” This is as good an opening as I’m going to get. “So it’ll just be the two of you?”
She opens her mouth but just looks at me.
“Let me put it this way,” I say. “If I didn’t have Marissa to see, would you be bringing me home to meet the dad?”
“No.” She plays with the hem of the shirt. “It wouldn’t be a good time. What with my mom’s stuff and all.”
