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“Yeah?”

“Did you call me in the middle of the night to talk you through something else?”

I kick the blanket off, then immediately snatch it back up when I realize that I am harder than a fucking rock, and that feels so wrong when my poor cat is next to me.

“No,” I croak out. Even though now I feel like that is exactly what I need so I can actually think clearly. “Maybe.”

Just hearing him breathe in my ear is sending shivers down my spine. I glance at Eleanor, then slide out of bed with the phone pressed to my ear. The bathroom door clicks shut behind me.

“You emailed me.”

He exhales roughly. “I did. Sorry it took so long.”

I close my eyes and press my forehead against the cool door.

“You called,” he says gently.

“Yeah.” Sorry it took so long.

Does Not Exist: testing…

Does Not Exist: fuck, Em

hi

“Hi,” he answers.

“Hi.” I cover my head with my blanket, containing my smile under the covers.

“Two days, Em.”

“Two days.”

Then what?

That’s Two Days Me’s problem. Tonight, we fall asleep with the line still connected.

Dillon

Ithought the last time I was on my way home was the longest drive of my life. I was full of anxious dread with every mile I got closer, scared that I wouldn’t be able to help him. That I wouldn’t be able to fix the problem.

This time? I’m full of a different kind of anxious dread. Dread that all the fucking hope that’s been swamping me for the last several days has been building for nothing.

Terrified that despite him seeming to take steps closer to me, he’ll freak out when the moment actually comes and retreat again. I don’t want short nights with his body. I want his texts through the day. I want to hear about his terrible clients and about how much he hates the mullet phase. I want to hear him ramble and pretend he doesn’t love his cat, and I want to witness the moments of him and my daughter that I’ve missed.

And yeah, I want his body. I want his body next to mine every time he wants to be there. Not just Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.

Every minute feels ten times longer, the closer I get. The trees on the sides of the road start looking more and more familiar, and I feel like I’m going to crawl out of my skin when I get off the freeway. Street after street. Closer and closer.

I didn’t expect to finish everything up a day early, but I guess that’s what happens when one is very, very motivated. I have every intention of dropping my shit at home and driving to Emery’s apartment.

But Wanda, his Beetle, is already parked in my driveway. I didn’t get the notification from my camera because my phone is in my bag.

I swing the door of my truck open before I even have it completely in park. I rip the keys from the ignition, staring at that fucking car.

I leave the bags and move towards the house. I don’t remember giving him a key, but he could have gotten it from Warren, maybe Morgan or Sabrina. Doesn’t fucking matter because he’s here.

The handle turns in my hand, and I push the door open.