Blair doesn’t have to tell me twice this time. I don’t have any desire to do anything. I feel drained. Exhaustion is beating at me, harder than ever. Have I ever cried like that before? I don’t thinkso.
Blair returns a few moments later and comes to stand in front of me. She lifts up a pair of boxers in one hand and pajama bottoms in the other.
“Which do you prefer?”
I nudge my head toward the boxers. She nods and folds the pajama bottoms up and places them on her dresser.
“I don’t think Wes will mind you borrowing his clothes for the night,” she mutters as she helps me into them. “But we’ll just wash them and slip them back into his dresser later, just in case.”
She leads me to the bed, sits me down and quickly changes into her own pajamas. I don’t watch. I’m too busy staring at my pruning toes and wondering when I’ll be able to close my eyes to escape this misery. Blair leaves the room again. When she returns, she shuts the bedroom door behind her and carries over a white mug.
“Wes said that hot chocolate is his go-to pick me up drink so, I figured I could take a page out of his playbook,” she says and hands it to me.
I take it and bring the hot mug to my chest. Staring down into the contents I find marshmallows covered in whip cream, a drizzle of caramel and… sprinkles?
“I’ll get the bed set up for us.”
She comes around to the other side and pulls down the blanket and sheets, then fluffs both pillows. When she returns to stand in front of me, she says, “Take a few sips for me, Rhett.”
Automatically, I do as I’m told. The warmth of the drink feels amazing. I can feel it working it’s magic to loosen up the remaining tightness in my muscles and soul. Another sting of tears surges forward and, just like in the shower, they fall. I don’t try to stop them. It’s cathartic in a way I never expected. The tears cease before I’m finished with the hot chocolate. When the drink is gone, I’m almost disappointed. I don’t indulge in sweets like Santi does but tonight, I enjoy it.
Maybe Wes is onto something.
Blair takes the empty mug from my hand and places it on the nightstand.
“Lie back,” she orders.
With a long sigh, I turn and lie down. I’m immediately hit with a disapproving hum from the woman still standing beside the bed.
“Move over, Rhett. This ismyside. I’ll help you but I’m not conceding on this.”
I don’t know why but her possessive tone and simple demand makes me smile. I didn’t believe it was possible to smile after a night like this.
I scoot across her bed to the other side slowly. Blair climbs into the bed once I’ve settled and she throws the covers over us both.
“Light on or off?” she asks.
“On—no, off.”
The room goes dark. I tense, feeling like I’m back on the edge of that cliff once more. But then Blair’s arm comes around me and she snuggles up against my back. She’s not quite relaxed. I can feel the stiffness in her body, but she’s trying tobe comforting and I appreciate it more than she could possibly know.
“Okay,” she murmurs against the back of my neck. “Want to tell me what this was all about?”
No. I really don’t. All I want to do is go to sleep. My eyelids feel heavy, but as I close them ready to push her out, my heart shudders.Ithas something to say. With a heavy sigh, I give into its desire to be heard.
“Santi was right when he brought up… my sister,” I admit. It’s easier to talk with my eyes squeezed shut so I keep them closed as I add a few beats later, “I’ve turned into a monster. She’d be scared of me now.”
Blair hums. “Your sister… her name was Abby, right?”
“It was Abigail but everyone called her Abby.” I swallow hard.
“Will you tell me about her?”
No. Yes. No…
“Abby was my best friend.” I shudder. If she knew me now, she wouldn’t consider meherbest friend. “There was a six-year age gap between us but she wasn’t the typical annoying little sister. She was fearless, always ready for an adventure. She had this infectious laugh that would get everyone around her to laugh too. It was like this stupid snorting sound that was so goofy…” My voice trails off as I hear it in the back of my mind. The sound causes my heart to shudder in pain, but a smile pulls at my mouth. “She put me on a pedestal. To her, I was a cool older brother. It was a title I took seriously.”
My throat squeezes shut. A tremor rushes through me. My knee-jerk reaction is to stop talking, and thinking, about Abby. But my mouth seems to have a mind of its own.
