For the love of poor decisions, I hope my dream self didn’t grope her through the night.My awake self is hanging by a thread, and the last thing she needs is me crossing another line.
After we passed out, I don’t remember anything.None of my usual restless, twitchy half-sleep.That can only mean one thing.I just had the deepest, heaviest, best-ever sleep of my life.
We both did, judging by the positions of our bodies.Neither of us moved.
Through the blinds, the blue-gray light of early morning filters in stripes across her pillow and cheek, catching on the silver glint of her septum ring, the metal stud above her lip, and the tiny rod threaded through her eyebrow.
I lie on my side and stare like she’s the first real girlfriend I’ve shared a bed with in twenty-four years.
Because she is.
Nothing in my wreck of a life prepared me for how good this feels.
A clean, mineral scent lives in her hair.Skin, salt, rain, and underneath it all, my favorite fragrance.Sun-warm, feather-soft Dove.
I’ve never wanted anything as badly as I want to roll forward, drape an arm over her waist, tuck myself into the curve of her, press my nose to her neck, and pretend I’m a normal man sleeping beside a woman who wants to stay.Pretend I didn’t have a mental breakdown after giving her stepbrother a handy.Pretend I’m not a living nightmare with more scars than a used mattress.
Her lashes twitch.She murmurs something that might be a word and burrows deeper into the pillow.The blanket slips down her shoulder, exposing a pale slope of skin.
The urge to kiss that spot is a bright, roaring pain.My mouth waters, and I taste the metal of it.Thewant.
But I can’t.Not until I tell her what happened with Jag.And after that, she’ll no longer have a reason to stay.
Carefully, I slide out of bed.The room tilts, then steadies.I’m lightheaded, and my stomach cramps like I didn’t eat yesterday.
Oh, right.I didn’t.
I wrap the edges of the housecoat around me, covering my boxers and scars and tying the sash.The sleeves fall too short on my arms, and the purple fabric is worn to a thin nap.After all these years, I don’t know why I still wear it.Dr.Freud would analyze the shit out of that.
Dove sighs, and I go still, but she doesn’t wake.A shiny curl of blue hair hangs across her face.I don’t touch it.I memorize it.
Then I leave without looking back because if I do, I’ll climb into bed and make the wrong kind of promises to myself.
The walk to the main house is too warm for my Arctic-bred bones, the daylight too honest, and when I reach the back door, my reflection in the glass looks like a trespasser in a dead woman’s robe.
In the kitchen, I find Frankie at the island, barefoot, red hair twisted up in a knot, and shoulders slumped in a way that says she didn’t sleep as well as I did.
She glances over at me, and her eyebrows rise a millimeter.I know the robe caught her eye.It always does.But she doesn’t comment.One of the thousand gifts she gives me.
“I was just going to make eggs.”Her voice sands down to a gentle roughness that loosens tight places inside me.“You want—”
“Yes.Feed me before I start gnawing on the furniture.”I cross to the back counter and pour a mug of coffee.I’d offer her a cup, but caffeine isn’t good for the baby.“Where are your daddies?”
“Still asleep.”
“Let me guess.They stayed up all night braiding each other’s pubes.”
She smiles without showing teeth, and the softness of it makes my throat ache.She doesn’t need to correct me.I know they were up all night discussing my mental health.
I don’t have to pretend with her.We’ve seen each other at our worst.She held my eyes when Denver raped me.I held her hand when the doctor raped her.She has PTSD like me, though her panic attacks are growing fewer and farther between.
She moves around the kitchen.Pan on the burner.Flame.Butter hissing.The sound is indecent.My stomach groans and folds into cramps.
I sit at the island, slurping coffee and slicing bread to make toast.
“Did you sleep?”She approaches my stool, careful not to spook me, but close enough that her warmth presses into my space.
“Yes times a thousand.I slept beside Dove for the first time.”
