Chapter 16
The sound of knocking wakes me up. Freezing and tired, I decide I’m going to ignore it and continue to die here. Rolling over, I use the floor mat as a blanket, incapable of getting up to get a real one.
When the knocking continues and my phone starts ringing at the same time, I croak out a cry.
“What?” I bark into the phone, not even checking to see who it is.
“Let me in.” Callahan’s voice sounds more tense than I have ever heard it before.
“Go away.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Ugh.” I can’t sit up or stomp my feet, so I settle for rolling my eyes.
Absolutely over the last twenty-four hours, I don’t need any more men coming in here, pissing me off.
“I’m not leaving.”
Apparently I don’t get a choice in the matter.
“Fine. The door is unlocked.”
I hear his heavy footsteps, and I try to fight the shame of him seeing me like this. While he may have seen me naked, he hasn’t seen me splayed out on a floor with all my rolls pressed and contorted. Not to mention the fact that I’m pretty sure I have throw-up on my cheek.
I hear his steps stop at the door and then retreat again. Not surprised that he couldn’t handle the image of me right now, I scoff. When he comes back and I feel something soft land on my body, I gasp. My head gets lifted, and a pillow is placed under it.
“That better?”
It would be if the idea of him being nice to me didn’t upset my stomach for some reason. Before I can get comfortable, I lurch for the toilet again.
His hand rubs my back while the other holds on to my braids. The movement is steady and strong, calming me down a little.
“It’s okay,” he says.
But it’s not.
I want to cry and curl into a ball. It’s like a demon has possessed my body and someone poured holy water down my throat. I’m trying to tear something out from inside of me that is determined to stay.
I try to lean back, but find myself against his chest. He lets my hair down and hands me a water. I fight back the urge to say thank you, refusing to acknowledge his help.
“Why are you here?” Sounding so ungrateful, part of me wants to say sorry. The other half wants him to leave.
“Rowan said you were alone.”
Of course. On top of not being helpful, Charlie had to chuck the responsibility onto someone else.
“Well, I’m fine.” It would probably be more believable if I didn’t lean forward and upchuck the water I just drank.
“Mhm,” is all he says, rubbing my back again.
I want to tell him to go, but when I lie back on his chest, I find I have no more fight in me.
When he puts the blanket back on me and begins to rock, I’m so soothed I want to cry different tears.
This is what I needed last night. This is all Charlie had to do.
But he was never capable of this level of stepping up, and I should have realized that sooner.
“You always this hard-headed, or is this a cancer thing?”
“Always.”
“That shouldn’t be sexy, but it is.”
“Nothing is sexy about me right now.” Happy that he can’t smell my breath, I wipe my face.
“How many times do I have to tell you that you can be in anything, in any way and I will still find you sexy?”
“Oh yeah? It turns you on when I throw up?”
“It’s just a reminder of how wide your mouth is.”
I snort out a laugh, and he does too. Wrapping his arm around my middle, he pulls me closer.
“The nausea is only supposed to last for twenty-four hours,” I say, more so to comfort myself.
“Then it should almost be done, right?”
I nod.
“I’ll make you breakfast, then.”
I try to sit up and put some distance between me and his intentions, but I’m too weak to actually do it. Whether I like it or not, I’m at his mercy.
I refuse to give in, so my back is stiff the entire time he holds me. I won’t even let him stroke my arm anymore, determining that he has done enough.
I can’t help but talk to him over the hours we sit there, happy for the distraction.
“You think it’s done?” He asks when enough time has passed without me hurling.
“Yeah, my stomach feels better.”
I go to stand, but he stops me, lifting me into his arms instead. Carrying me to the couch, he places me there then brings me another water.
“You can go now.” I take small sips of this one, scared to cause my stomach to act up.
“I’m cooking for you.”
“Why are you like this?” I twist in my seat so I can look at him.
“Why are you?” He crosses his arms, staring me down.
I refuse to break eye contact, and so does he, so we have an awkward moment of just looking at each other. When he realizes that I won’t give in, he turns and walks into the kitchen.
A few minutes later, I smell onions. It’s not too long before he is bringing me an omelette. Without my permission, my mouth waters.
He cuts a piece off of it like he is going to feed me, and I snatch the plate from his hands. This just makes him smirk. Picking up his own plate, he digs in.
My first few bites are tentative as I wait to see how my body will react. When there is no immediate churning, I determine it’s safe.
“Do you need help getting to the shower?”
I shake my head.
“Okay, then I’ll get some video games and snacks set up.”
“You’re staying?” I sit up, pulled by this revelation.
“Yes, until your dad gets home.”
I want to tell him to go away, but previous experience has taught me that he won’t listen. So instead, I finish eating.
Once done, I wobble to the bathroom, determined to wash off the gross feeling encompassing my entire body. Too tired to do anything but half-heartedly scrub, I stay under the scorching water longer than I normally would.
I can’t even imagine trying to lotion my entire body right now, so I just throw on some shorts and a tank top. If I were in a better mood, I would ask him and let it turn into something dirty, but all it would be right now is intimate.
Coming back downstairs, I see a platter of food and a comfy setup for me. A new blanket is on the couch with some pillows as well.
“Making yourself comfortable, I see,” I say, surprised that he is so okay with moving and grabbing things around the house.
“Well, I have to be okay spending time in my future in-law’s home.”
I scoff as I wrap myself up, only leaving my hands free. He hands me the controller and then shifts me so that I’m lying on his chest.
This time I do lean in, relaxing against him.
“Are you sure you want to stay? Do you even like video games?”
“We had a GameCube as kids, but with six of us, we barely got turns for long. I guess I never picked up an interest because of that.”
“This might be boring for you, then.” I turn on the system and wait for the screen to load. Going to my current obsession, Motherland, I start up where I was before.
“Explain it to me, and then I can just watch you play.”
I perk up a little, turning to look at him.
“Okay, so in this game, the world ended, and humans were forced into space. They ended up setting up homes on other planets, and merging with the alien life already there. Having grown up there, your character knows nothing else. But when they are accused of a crime, they have to escape. Unable to dock anywhere where there is life, they make the decision to return to Earth. When you get there, you discover that some humans survived and set up a community. They are all genetically different due to the exposure of still being there.”
“Okay, and is that where you are at?”
“Currently, I’m building a house and trying to find a dog to adopt.”
I move around the land, showing him a little bit of the landscape. It’s like this euphoric natural forest with unnatural colors and plants. Everything is dangerous and beautiful.
Explaining what I’ve learned thus far, I show him some of the things I’ve collected and places I’ve been. I break down the colonies and their different governments.
“So what’s the goal of the game?”
“It’s honestly low action, but you still go on adventures. There are monsters that you have to fight, and your metal from the planet you grew up on is able to cut through them better. The people hire you to kill things. I just want to see as much of the world as I can and earn the title of Slayer.”
He is smiling as much as I am. It’s clear that he is invested.
“Now that I know, I can enjoy watching you.”
“Are you sure? I can play this for hours.”
“Well, we have all day.”
That reminds me that he should probably be at work right now since it’s the middle of the week, but instead, he is here.
I’m about to bring it up when he lifts my chin and kisses my nose.
A stroke of his thumb down my cheek has me turning into putty in his hands.
I quickly turn to face the screen before he can notice that, unpausing the game.
While he watches me, his reactions seem to be on par with mine. We cheer together, tense up together, and talk about how cool the graphics are. An ease takes over us, making the time fly by.
Eventually, the room is swathed in darkness as the sun sets. Despite my best efforts, the whole day was filled with a familiar calm that brought us closer together.
When I go to detangle from him, my stomach gurgles, and I panic thinking it’s about to empty out everything I have eaten. I quickly realize it just wants more food.
This time I cook for him, and we settle at the dining room table with dinner and some sodas.
“I just want you to know, this is not a date,” I say, trying to keep a serious face.
“You’re right. This is a preview of our future,” he says, winking.
“You’re incorrigible.”
“And you’re stubborn.”
“Well, you don’t listen.”
“And you don’t think.”
I throw a piece of chicken at him, and he catches it in his mouth.
“What does that mean?” I ask.
He continues to eat, clearly not intending to answer.
I give him a few moments of silence before I throw another piece of chicken at him.
This time it hits his forehead, a little bit of the juice leaving a mark.
I cover my mouth with my hands like that will keep me from breaking out into laughter.
It doesn’t work when his brows furrow and his mouth pops open.
I throw my head back, letting it out, with my eyes closed, and a hand on my stomach. When I look back at him, a Brussels sprout hits my chest.
I stand, but before I can grab something, I’m assaulted by three more. I start running towards the living room as he throws more at my back.
Picking up the chips we abandoned, I start whipping Doritos in his direction. At this point, it’s an all-out war as chocolate, pretzels, and full-on mini brownies are getting whipped.
It’s not until the room is destroyed do we stop.
“Oh no,” I say, looking around.
The panic I felt when I threw a party in high school and the house got trashed has returned as I look at the mess we made. I know I should start cleaning up right away, but the last five minutes have zapped me of whatever energy I built up. I slouch onto the couch, my breathing heavy.
“I got it.” He runs into the kitchen and returns with a garbage bag, instantly going to work.
Asking where the vacuum is, he sucks up the remaining crumbs. Thankfully, we didn’t stain anything, so after finishing with a quick mop, everything is almost set to rights.
“Thank you.” I try to get up to give him a hug, but my body feels like lead. So instead, I offer a thumbs up.
“Need help getting to bed?”
“Are you joining me?”
“Do you want me to?”
Many nights, while on the phone, I imagined him curled up next to me. His big arms snaking around my body. The warmth of him causing us to only sleep with a sheet. I want that so bad right now that the answer is almost immediate. But then I remember we still haven’t talked about what we are doing.
“Not tonight.”
In the morning, I promise myself that we will sit down and discuss everything, and then tomorrow night, he will be in my bed.
If he’s disappointed, he doesn’t show it. He just nods and comes over to pick me up. I use his arm as a crutch, but I won’t let him carry me entirely.
He tucks me in, making sure my phone is on the charger and the covers are tight around me. Then he kisses my forehead and shuts the light off.
Too tired to keep my eyes open any longer, I try to remember how deliriously happy I am as I fall asleep.