Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 86857 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86857 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
“You’re not him, Josie. And you’re not the only person who has cut their baby doll’s or Barbie’s hair. You’re not the first person to see how long you can hold your breath underwater. You’re not the only person who has been curious about death. And while I will concede that you have been and always will be a unique person, it has nothing to do with Winston Jeffries.”
What do I say when he says all the right things? I wish I could love my way through this. Why can’t love be enough? Why can’t love conquer all? Standing, I yawn and stretch my arms over my head. “I’m going to bed.”
Colten nods, gaze on my empty chair. “I’ll be up in a few minutes.” He forces his gaze to mine. “Will you be okay?”
I nod, not hesitating for a single second. I hate that he feels like I can’t be left alone. I feel like a temperamental plant that is always on the verge of dying if it’s watered too little or too much, if you change its location in the house or forget to talk to it. I am the exact opposite of independent.
“Good.” He reaches for my hand and squeezes it. There’s a lot of hand squeezing lately. Colten looks exhausted.
Loving me isn’t easy. I can’t help but wonder if he ever regrets moving to Chicago. I wouldn’t blame him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
New observation: The less worthy one feels, the less they feel anything.
My parents leave Christmas Eve day after lunch to visit Benji. We’ll see them again at the wedding in a few weeks. Becca returns to Texas to be with Chad and his partner for Christmas. It’s just Colten, Reagan, and me until Katy picks her up to be with her and Sean on Christmas morning.
“Josie!” Colten grabs the hot pad and takes the pan from me as I hold its searing hot handle. Only, it’s not searing to me. “Baby, oh shit …” He runs my hand under cool water.
I don’t feel that either.
“Daddy said a bad word,” Reagan observes from her post as present watcher by the tree.
I stare at my hand, red and white. Like Christmas.
“Josie?” Colten presses his chest to my back while keeping my hand under the stream of water. “Say something. How bad is it?”
“I’m … I’m sorry.”
“No.” He kisses my head over and over. “Don’t apologize. But, baby … you didn’t drop the pan or scream or so much as flinch.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop. No.” He wets a towel and wraps it around my hand, turning me to face him. “I think we should get it looked at.”
I ease my head side to side, lifting my unfocused gaze to meet his concerned face. “It’s … fine,” I whisper.
“Daddy, it’s time to open gifts.”
“After dinner, Button,” he says while continuing to scrutinize me.
“Let’s eat.” I hug my hand to my chest and turn toward the plates of food.
“Just sit down. I’ll finish dishing up the food and bring it to the table.”
Reagan hops into her chair. Instead of taking a seat, I stand behind her, stroking her hair with my good hand. “You’d look adorable in short hair.”
“Like yours?” she asks, twisting her body to see me.
I smile and nod.
“Reagan, your mom would not approve of cutting your hair,” Colten says, setting two of the plates on the table and eyeing me—eyeing my hand stroking her hair. A tiny line forms along the bridge of his nose. “Baby, have a seat.” He nods to the chair across from Reagan.
Every time I touch her hair, he gets that look.
Can he love me and not trust me?
After dinner, Reagan bolts to the tree. “Presents!”
“Give me five minutes. I’m going to get bandages for Josie’s hand.”
“Hurry up!” She shakes one of the boxes.
“It’s fine,” I say.
He removes the towel. It’s not fine. It’s pretty bad. Still, I somehow don’t feel it. I felt the look he gave me over Reagan’s hair, but not this burn.
“It’s not fine. Come with me.”
I follow him to his bedroom, taking a seat on the edge of the bed as he grabs first-aid supplies out of the bathroom.
While applying burn cream and gauze bandages, he glances up at me. “You’re a little off tonight.”
I look at him and nod several times.
“What’s up? You’re not getting cold feet, are you?”
“About what?”
He grins. “Um … the wedding. You should have received an invite. I’d love it if you could make it.”
“Do you not trust me with Reagan?”
“What are you talking about?” He knows that answer. That’s why he’s not looking at me.
“Does it make you nervous when I touch her hair?”
He shakes his head, still not looking at me. “No. It makes me nervous when you talk about cutting her hair. I don’t want to deal with Katy on that.”
“Tonight … tonight I said she’d look cute in short hair. But I’ve touched her hair other times, and you always give me the same look.”