“It’s almost like you know her. It was a challenge, but we got there. I was probably a bit snappy with her, more than I should’ve been, but she didn’t complain. I’ll apologize in the morning. I love her dearly, but when she asked if I needed her to come into the bathroom and wipe my ass, I just wanted to scream. I’m not useless, I have two arms that work perfectly. I mean, I might be a bit broken in other ways, but I’m not completely pathetic.” The more Poppy talks, her voice is perking up a little. Just telling me how frustrated she is and getting it off her chest is what she needs.
“Broken bones, but you’re not broken, Poppy. You’ll get through this. I’ve seen how strong you are. Nothing will keep you down, so I don’t want to hear you talk about yourself like that.” In my head I’m calling myself a hypocrite, because less than fifteen minutes ago I was busy admitting to myself how broken I feel tonight.
“Yeah, okay, whatever. You knew what I meant,” she replies sarcastically. “Anyway, enough about me. How are the boys?”
It’s a neutral topic of conversation that we can both cope with right now. I tell her all that happened from the time I walked through the door, which had her laughing a little and just sounding lighter in general. If I’m honest, the conversation and the sound of her laugh is helping to pull me out of my own funk as well.
It’s getting late, and we both really need to try to sleep. I’ve been hiding my yawns from her for the last ten minutes.
“Do you feel like you might be able to close your eyes now and try to get back to sleep?” I ask her.
“Maybe,” she replies but not with a lot of confidence in her answer.
“What can I do to help?” I inquire.
“Be here in my bed with me, like in the hospital.” Her words stab at my heart. Instantly I desperately want to get up, walk next door, carry her back to my bed, and hold her in my arms all night. To chase away the nightmares and soothe my soul at the same time. But it’s not possible.
“You know I would in a heartbeat if I could.” It almost kills me to say no.
“I know, I know. I didn’t mean it. I was just joking. You take up too much room in the bed anyway.” She’s trying to lighten the mood, but we both know it’s all fake.
“There is always room in my bed, Poppy.” We both sit silent for a minute. “I mean it.”
“Landon.” She sighs.
“As friends. I can build you a cool pillow fort between us so your hands aren’t tempted to go roaming in the middle of the night. I mean, I know I’m hard to resist, but if that’s what you need to feel safe enough to sleep, I’ll make it happen.” I can feel my cock starting to react to the thought of her here, with me, in my bed. Which shocks me a little, considering the night I’ve had mentally. I need to steer us back to neutral ground. “You have to tell your mom, though. I’m not getting yelled at again. Especially not for kidnapping her daughter from her own home.”
Poppy groans through the phone.
“I’d better hang up. I can do this, I’ll be okay.” The words are more to convince herself, not me.
“I know you can, but… if you can’t, call me back. Even if we don’t talk and you just need to hear me breathing while I sleep, and I’ll hear you if you call out in your sleep, then that’s okay too.” It’s the best I can offer tonight, but as hard as it would be, if these nightmares and sleepless nights persist for Poppy, I’m bringing her to my bed. I’ll sleep on the floor if needed.
“Why are you doing this, Landon?” she asks.
“You know the answer to that, Poppy, but that’s a conversation for another day. Now go to sleep.” Because she’s not the only one who’s not in the right head space for that talk tonight.
“Okay,” is all she says.
“Okay,” I repeat.
“Good night, Landon,” she says, with so many unspoken words hanging between us.
“Good night, Poppy.” I want to say more, but thankfully she hangs up the call, and I drop my phone onto the pillow beside me.
I stare up at the ceiling, but my mind is so tired, it’s now gone blank. I’m past the ability to think clearly.
The last thing I remember is closing my eyes and starting to take a deep breath.
POPPY
“I can’t believe it’s been a week since you’ve been back in Boston and you haven’t hooked up with Landon yet,” Autumn says loudly to me as I negotiate sliding into the booth at the back of the Strong and Brewdy coffee shop. I love how private these booths are. It’s Autumn’s favorite place to get brunch—well, other than my mother’s kitchen where she devours the cinnamon buns. It’s in the city, not far from Lucinda’s.
“Seriously, do you want to announce that to the world? Keep your voice down.” My breathing is still a little labored when I exert myself. And getting from the car, along the street, and through the packed coffee shop this morning has been a marathon event.
“Oh, shush, you. It’s not like anyone here knows you, or him. Now spill the gossip. What the hell is going on? I mean, that man has been hovering over you more than your mother, and I didn’t think that was possible.” Autumn pushes a menu across the table to me, because she already knows what she wants. She comes here so often she could probably recite the menu, back to front.
“All I can say is I’m thankful that you turned up this morning and helped me escape.” Glancing down, I see they have waffles with strawberries and Nutella, so I don’t need to look any further.
