Page 22 of Chasing Fireflies

“Have you been taking your medication?”

She looks up at me. “I don’t need it.”

“What the hell do you mean, you don’t need it?”

“I mean, I don’t freaking need it. Now, get out of the way. You’re tracking. Did you wash your feet tonight?”

“This is not good.”

She sighs and rolls her eyes, sitting back on her heels. “If I was feeling like shit, wouldn’t I tell you? Why when I feel on top of the world, do you want to bring me down?”

“I’m not trying to bring you down, baby. But this is not normal behavior. People don’t get out of bed in the middle of the night and start scrubbing floors,” I say, looking up at the countertops. “Or clean out cabinets.”

“Why don’t you go back to sleep?” She stands and walks toward me. “I’ll be up in a little bit.” She kisses my lips, and I look down at her. I tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear and put my hand on her hip.

“You can’t stop taking your medicine,” I say softly.

“I’ll start back tomorrow. Happy?”

“Yes, but I won’t be happy if you keep this up all night, so I guess I’ll have to help you finish.”

*

The cabinets have been refilled, and the house smells like lemons and Pine Sol. Sara dances around the kitchen, smiling and talking my head off. The knees of her sweats are wet and her tied-off shirt rides up, showing a small bit of her soft skin. She gives me a look when our song comes on—a song we danced to on prom night when couldn’t seem to get out of bed. I love when she has her hair pulled up in a careless way and ringlets hang down in the back and front.

“Do you remember our senior year when we skipped school and drove down to Lake Side? There wasn’t a person on the lake. It was just us two.”

“How could I forget? You talked me into skinny-dipping.”

She laughs. “You were so nervous.”

I walk over to her and wrap my arms around her waist. “You’ve always pulled me out of my comfort zone.”

“I’m crazy,” she says, turning around in my arms and looking up at me.

“Crazy beautiful,” I reply before I kiss her lips. Her arms wrap around my neck, and I lift her up onto the countertop. Love runs her hands down my arms, and I try to kiss her crazy away. Her lips are soft, and her curls tickle my face. Her smell––clean and raspberries mixed—surrounds me and I breathe in, trying to make my mind engrave it so whenever I need its comfort, it’ll be there. I pull her closer, and she wraps her legs around my back. Her hands go to my shirt, and I move away so she can take it off. Rosy red fingernails scratch my skin, and I grab her tied-up T-shirt and undo it. It falls loose, and I lean down and kiss her neck.

“Lift your arms.” She does and I pull her cotton shirt over her head. My face goes back to her neck, and I kiss every inch of her skin I can get my lips on.

Moving her from the counter, I bring us to the floor, and she slides her sweats and panties off. Skin I love gets covered in kisses by me, and I sink two fingers inside her. The vibration of her moans is felt through my face as I lick down her chest and across her stomach. Her hands run through my hair, and she wiggles beneath me as I move my face down farther. I let my tongue explore until she can’t take it anymore, and then I grab myself and lean up to kiss her mouth as I bury myself inside her. Her head falls back, and I grasp her thighs as she links her ankles behind my back. I love her crazy away, and in this moment, her mind belongs to me.

*

Charcoal burns on the grill as Mark flips the steaks over and I hand him a beer. The sun shines bright outside, but I can see a storm behind my girl’s eyes. She slept for maybe two hours earlier, and you can see no rest on her face. Leigh talks with her, but as nice as Leigh seems, Sara looks uninterested, and she keeps messing with her fingers. I take a sip of my beer as the chief and Anne pull up. My wife looks over at me, and I give her a smile. It asks her if she is okay, begging her to be.

“Drew,” I say as he walks up to me.

“Son.” He nods and shakes mine and Mark’s hands. Anne walks over to Leigh and Sara and hands my wife a bowl of something. “Anne made some potato salad. It’s good. I snuck a bit before we drove over,” Drew says. Mark laughs and I pretend to listen, but my attention is somewhere else. I watch Sara walk inside, and I tell the boys I’ll be back. The screen door shuts behind me, and I see Sara leaning against the countertop, fingernail between her teeth. I play it cool.

“Mark’s steaks are looking good,” I say, walking over to the fridge. She doesn’t respond.

“Want a beer?”

“No,” she answers.

I nod and grab the boys and me one. “Leigh seems nice.”

“Yeah.”

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