When I step into the house, it’s quiet and dark, except for one small lamp in the living room. I make my way toward the room, ready to apologize profusely, but find Abby sound asleep on the couch. Her arms rest on the small bump that’s been showing more and more, and there’s a wet spot on the pillow from where she was obviously crying. The guilt threatens to snap me in two.
“Hey, pretty girl,” I murmur, stroking her hair. “Let’s get you to bed.”
She stirs, eyes opening slowly and looking confused.
“Jack Robbit?”
I smile, my first genuine one all night.
“Don’t call me that,” I tease, the way I always do. “C’mon, let's go.”
She groans, rubbing her eyes.
“Don’t want to,” she mumbles. “Let me sleep here.”
Without thinking, I scoop her into my arms and carry her down the hallway.
“You’ll be all stiff and cranky if I let you do that,” I chuckle when she yelps in surprise. “And you’ll be more mad at me than you already are.”
“I am mad at you, Jack Robb.”
Her face is twisted up in anger, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. They look…sad. That’s about a million times worse.
“I know,” I whisper. “I’m sorry.”
I lay her gently on her bed, pulling the duvet up and tucking her in carefully.
“You left,” she whispers, lifting her head. “And I didn’t know where you were. Or if anything happened to you.”
“I know,” I whisper hoarsely. “It won’t happen again. I promise.”
She nods, laying her head back down, and I turn to leave.
“Jack?” she asks, brow furrowing and fighting to keep her eyes open.
“Yeah?” I respond, turning back toward her.
“Do you really think I’m pretty?”
The question catches me off guard. I didn’t mean to call her that earlier, and I was hoping she didn’t hear it. It just slipped out.
But you meant it.
“Yes, pretty girl,” I say. “I really do.”
“Good,” she says, settling into her pillow and pulling the blankets up to her chin. “Because I am. Don’t you forget it.” And with that, she falls asleep, her breaths evening out and the crease between her eyes relaxing.
I slowly creep out of her room, closing the door quietly so I don’t wake her.
Once I make up the couch and slide into the sheets, I stare at the ceiling and talk to Aaron–a habit I’ve gotten into since the first time I stayed over here.
I fucked up tonight, dude, I’m sorry. I promise she won’t ever shed another tear because of something I did.
Closing my eyes, a single tear slips out from beneath my lids and rolls down my cheek. So much of my energy is going toward making sure Abby and Little One are cared for, but in these quiet moments when I’m alone–I really fucking miss my friend.
Chapter 18
Abby
