Finally, I answer, “Of course you can.”
He lets out a long, deep breath and takes another step back. A small smile starts to spread. “See you later, then.”
I smile back and nod.
“Well, all right.” This time I get a full-blown, signature Bobby grin, goofiness and all, just before he turns and makes his way back toward the stairwell.
Alone in the quiet hall, I take a minute to pull myself together. Confusion, longing, grief, loneliness—with all the conflicted emotions bubbling inside me right now, I’m feeling one small step away from fucked up. Half of me wants to lock myself in my room with a bottle of vodka to lose myself in, while the other half wants to yank Bobby in there with me so I don’t spend another Sunday night alone.
Both halves sound like losers, so instead I open the door and lock myself inside before I find myself at the liquor store or back in Bobby’s truck.
I strip out of the uncomfortable, barely-there dress and change into jammies. After washing my face and brushing my teeth, I numbly walk toward the oversized bed and slip beneath the covers.
The tick-tock of a grandfather clock, the outside wind’s tug and pull rattling the window, the emptiness filling the room.
I don’t even know why I’m crying when the tears start to fall, running down my cheeks and onto the white pillow beneath my head. Just like last Sunday, and the two before that, I can’t turn it off. Maybe allowing myself only one day a week to cry isn’t enough. It flows and flows like endless rain, with nothing but the saltiness on my lips and the quiet quivers of my body to remind me I’m feeling anything at all.
When that soothing warmth appears out of thin air, I stop. Glance around. I can’t see him this time, but I know he’s here.
It’s the strangest thing, but he calms me in a way I don’t think I’ve ever experienced. He shouldn’t have such an effect on me, I know this. It goes against all of my instincts—the ones that tell me I should fear him. Especially after what happened earlier today. Whatever that was.
It doesn’t matter what logic screams, I can’t deny the connection I feel to him. It’s deep in my chest, a soothing caress over the hole that usually aches there. His presence, it’s not invasive, not demanding. There’s no pressure, no expectations, no prompting. My breathing calms, my body stills. In and out, one breath at a time, until my stiff shoulders relax into the mattress.
I close my eyes and drift away.
The searing painis what hits me first. My eyes dart down toward a nasty gash above my chest. A thick piece of glass sticks out of my skin, but I tear my gaze away before I can get too caught up in it.
Damn, it hurts.
There’s a small body in my arms, my bare feet trudging through slimy mud with each step I take across the farm. The body squirms against me until a familiar face angles upward to meet my eyes. I swallow hard, trying to ignore little Tommy’s torn up clothes, the fresh burn marks on his stomach.
“You gotta put me down,” he wheezes, cringing when his T-shirt rubs one of the wounds. “Put me down. I can probably walk better than you right now.”
“Hush up, Tommy. I’m fine.” I’m panting, but relief fills my mind when I catch a glimpse of the garden. “See, we’re almost there now.”
We sneak around the back of the garden, as always, and I pray the shed’s unlocked when I reach for its handle. Thankfully it opens on the first try. I wince as I carefully lower Tommy onto the dusty cot, then turn to him with a questioning look. He nods, and I don’t waste any time before stumbling back outside, picking a small handful of rosemary from the garden and setting it on the neighbor’s window ledge as practiced.
We all know the drill. Now all he and I have to do is wait.
I head back to the shed, weakly collapsing beside my little brother. “See now?” I hear myself whisper, my eyes heavy as I rest my head against the hard wall. “We’ll be good and fixed up in no time. Nothing at all to worry about.”
I’m breathing heavilywhen I wake, clutching the blanket against me. Are they going to be okay? Is their neighbor someone who can help them? I squeeze my eyes closed, reminding myself to take a deep breath.
Stop it, Lou. It isn’t real.
No one is hurt.
It’s just a dream.
Go back to sleep.
Chapter 14
The first thingI do when I wake up is look forhim. I don’t know what it is exactly—it’s not like I’m any braver today than I was before—but I need to speak to him. It’s been a full three days since my hand seemed to vanish into thin air, so maybe having had a little time to let things sink in made a difference. I don’t know. What I do know is that there are so many things in my life I have no control over. Too many things. Whether I’m asleep or awake, it’s like I hardly know my own mind these days. And I’m tired of it. Literally. I’m exhausted.
Ready or not, it’s time to ask questions. And hopefully get some answers.
But I feel no sign of him now. His heat is notably absent, and it makes me pull the covers around me tighter when I sit up in bed. Still, I look around a little, feeling silly for it but not knowing what else to do.
