“Because you can see what they can’t,” he states, and my gaze rises to meet his sad eyes. I bite my lip and nod, trying to hold back a sob. “How long were you in there?” he asks, and I have to gulp before I can answer him.
“Three months.” My voice is barely audible.
Three months that felt like years.
“Fuck,” Saylor whispers. “I’m so sorry, Slo.”
The tears start to fall for real as I tell him what I haven’t told anyone ever before since nobody was close enough anymore. “It was hell. And when I finally got out, the only person that mattered to me had died two weeks prior. My nan died while I was in hell. I wasn’t there for her in her last moments.” My voice breaks. “She died alone.” A whimper escapes me, and I hope he doesn’t think I’m as pathetic as I feel.
“We all die alone,” Saylor states, his voice full of emotion. I nod, understanding what he’s telling me, but I still hate myself for not being able to be there and hold her hand in her last moments. “Did she… go into the light?” he asks while I wipe away my tears with the sleeves of my hoodie.
“She’s at peace.” I nod, my voice breaking. That’s the only thing that kept me sane the last year, knowing that at leastshewas all right.
Saylor makes his way onto the bed beside me. He sits propped up, leaning against the van wall, and motions for me to lay down again.
“Sleep, it’s already late. I plopped into Hunter, berating Nash about not bugging you tomorrow when you start your job. You have to tell me all about how that happened, but first, you need to sleep so you can give Thundercunt a demonstration of your awesomeness.”
I huff a watery laugh as I lay back beside Saylor. “There is nothing to tell. It seems Hunter put in a good word for me after he found me stranded here and took pity on me.”
“I wondered why we’re here now,” he muses, crossing his ankles.
“I’mhere because I wanted to drive to the next town to look for a job, but Van-essa gave out under me, so I had to improvise.”
He sputters a laugh. “Van-essa?”
I shrug. “That’s the old lady’s name.”
“Okay, so that’s unfortunate, but you wouldn’t have found a job in a few-mile radius anyway. We’re heading into the off-season, and no one searches for staff now. Your best chances are here. And it seems your problem is solved now anyway.”
“You could have told me that earlier,” I mumble, pulling the covers closer and yawning.
Saylor chuckles. “I would have if you’d told me your plans. Now sleep.”
“I don’t think I can. It’s too silent,” I mumble, looking up at Saylor, who seems lost in thought.
He’s so good-looking.
And kind.
I’m so glad he’s here.
And I know I shouldn’t be.
“My mom always sang us boys a lullaby when we couldn’t sleep. It’s one our great-great-great-grandmother…” he snickers, “… invented, and every Jones boy got sung to sleep with it.”
“Were there always only boys in your family?” I ask, frowning.
He shrugs. “It seems so. I never heard of a daughter. My father was an only child, and his father had two brothers.” A little line forms between his eyebrows while he thinks, and it’s adorable. “I can sing it to you if you want,” he offers but doesn’t look at me, his expression sad as he gazes into nothing.
“But that would mean you’re singing it to a girl who isn’t a Jones,” I tease, trying to lighten his mood.
He turns to me to give me a grin, his dimples so accentuated. He has a birthmark in the middle of his right cheek, and I itch to put my finger on it, but I don’t move. He starts to sing softly in a beautiful, deep voice, and my heart flips as he doesn’t stop looking at me while he sings.
In a coastal town, by the moon’s soft glow,
Lobster boats gently in the harbor row.
Fishermen set sail, as the night unfolds,
