He groans and mumbles, “Not my dad,” but agrees and hangs up.
I grunt as the tension in my shoulders returns.
I finish cleaning up, stewing the whole time about Noel. I look for Tommy, who disappeared halfway through as he always does, and I find him and Morgan in the front room. They sit on the couch watching YouTube videos and snickering. It’s a relief to see Tommy laughing after what happened
“Did you clean this room?”
She nods, proud.
“Thanks,” I murmur, but once again, it’s somewhat jarring.
I wait by the television for a moment, expecting her to get up and leave now that everything’s done.
She doesn’t.
She pats the cushion next to her. “Come relax.”
Okay, I’ve had enough of this shit. It’s time to face this. I drop beside her. Immediately her perfume floats over. Sweet and flowery.
It’s nice. Really nice.
Everything about her is nice.
Even the way her glossy hair rests on her shoulders. That smile. Her dainty fingers pulling a blanket over her lap. The way she chats with Tommy like he deserves a real conversation and not just a few words out of pity. She talks to him like he matters.
I sigh softly in frustration, because I guess I don’t want her to leave.
I rub my face and slump deeper into the couch. This is another problem I don’t need.
Her and Tommy laugh more. She even makes us popcorn.
I let her, too. I sorta like the company. I like the warmth she brings into this house. It makes it feel more like a home than a burden I have to maintain.
And I take in the rare moment of peace since someone is here to watch Tommy. My eyes close. Just for a minute.
A power nap.
Nothing will go wrong.
Chapter 9
Jack
The flicker of the television greets me when my eyelids re-open. The room is dark. I check my watch. Midnight.
The house hums quietly around us. Old vents click as they cool.
Tommy sleeps on the other couch. An action movie glows on the screen. The remote rests on the floor where it slipped from his hand. Beside me, Morgan leans against my shoulder, curled in a ball with the blanket up to her neck. Her body heat seeps through our clothes and warms my side.
I whisper her name. She snuggles closer. A woman’s body feels so good wedged next to mine.
“Wake up, Morgan.” My fingers lightly comb her dark hair. “It’s midnight.”
Her eyes flutter open, and she gives a shy smile. “Oops. Fell asleep.”
Then, she pats my knee a couple of times before her palm glides back and forth on my thigh.
“I better go,” she says meekly, but her eyes search mine like she’s begging me to stop her.
