Page 56 of Bring You Back

“And knowing this is all my fault doesn’t make it any easier.”

“This isn’t all your fault,” I say, almost sounding bored with such nonsense.

“According to my son, I started this whole thing.”

“Yoursonjust needs someone to blame,” I tell her. “And you’re the one who’s here.”

“Andmyactions are the reason his father isn’t here.”

“Brent’sactions are the reason he’s not here,” I say with a firm stare that she doesn’t rebut. “And don’t pay attention to what Julian says. Look at what he does. He’s been saying a lot of things he doesn’t mean.”

Julian’s words pale in comparison to his actions. The two haven’t always been matching.

“Glad you noticed that, too,” Naomi says with a cocked brow grin, then sighs back into her pillows. “He’s had a rough year.”

I look away, knowing I was a cause of that roughness. She draws me back with her fingers under my chin. “I’m so glad you’re back,” she says, always assuring, even though she doesn’t have to be. “I’m so sorry for the circumstances, but. . .” She nods, and I simply nod back.

I bring the focus back around. “It’s Brent’s loss. He gave up the world for a woman with Daddy issues who sought out a daddy to make a daddy.” I widen my stare and Naomi laughs.

“That’s awful,” she says as she cuts it off. She leans in again. “But true.”

I laugh, then jump when Grumbles leaps up and lands on my legs. She meows and paws her way to the middle, snuggling up inside the gap.

Naomi pets her with a smile. “When’d you get her?”

I slip my finger under Grumbles’s paw and she flexes her toes. “After.”

I feel Naomi’s eyes on me as she says, “That’s good.”

Grumbles blinks her tired, yellow eyes, and a smile tugs the side of my mouth. “Yeah. It was.”

Grumbles rubs her head against Naomi’s palm while I ask, “Do you think you’ll try to sleep soon?”

“No, stay,” Naomi urges as Grumbles nips her finger.

I unmute the television and a girl on the screen unleashes a piercing scream.Perfect timing.I settle in and smile as the vampire sinks his fangs deep into her neck.

About an hour later, Naomi and Grumbles have drifted off to sleep, and I’m still wide awake, wondering how long this stupid movie is.

My companions have passed out, so I’m not sticking around to find out. I need to get to my own bed.

A chill clings to the air, and I tuck the covers higher around Naomi’s shoulders, then slide off the bed. I scoop my cat into my arms and pad to the hall, swinging the door shut quickly as to avoid the whine, closing it the rest of the way with a softclick. Grumbles squirms, so I let her down, watching as she paws her way back to the guest room.

The house is darker. Still. I once found peace in the silent dark. Now, the night is stifling.

The porch light shines—bright, guiding, optimistic. Forever waiting.

Julian’s bedroom door is still closed. The other guest room is still open, black from within.

He won’t be back until morning.

I close myself inside my guest room, then pace to the nightstand. My bottle of sleeping pills is missing. My body twists around toward the closet when I remember I’d swept them off in my anguish. I shuffle over and snatch them up, twisting the bottle in my hands.

Just look into it.

My laptop is still inside my duffel. I can’t. . .

I can’t put my faith in sleep radio tonight. I need to leave the world, to not exist until the sun comes back up.

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