Page 43 of Tear Me to Pieces
My eyes go to Simon as I sit a little straighter in my seat. “What?” I ask him directly. “What did he do?”
“You mean besides breaking into your house in the middle of the night?” Simon’s nostrils flare as he tips his head in a barely perceptible nod. “Yeah. He did something.”
“Wethinkhe did something,” Christian elaborates, his tone carrying a hint of warning. Like even though he’s pissed at Butch, he still doesn’t want anyone saying something bad about him.
And that’s going to make it hard for me to get the full story out of Simon with Christian around.
“We should go.” I tip back the last of the coffee Lydia made me when Simon and I first showed up here after Christian called way too early, waking us up.
I was sleeping real freaking great too.
Simon deftly takes the empty coffee cup from my hand, rinsing it in the sink before racking it into the dishwasher. Once he’s cleaned up my mess, he tips his head to the back door. “After you.”
I don’t look at my sister as I walk across the kitchen. I can feel her eyes on me, and I know she’s wondering what in the hell just happened. Why Simon took care of me the way he did.
And I’m not quite ready to fess up to anything just yet. I haven’t wrapped my own head around what it is and what it might be. The last thing I want is my sister grilling me about it and demanding answers I can’t give her.
I pull the door open and step out, flashing a quick smile at the group still inside before waving and descending the steps. Simonfollows behind me, waiting until we’re out of sight before resting one palm on my back.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
“I just knew Christian wasn’t going to tell the whole truth with my sister there, and it was annoying me.” I sigh. “I get it. Lydia’s ten years pregnant and he doesn’t want to stress her out. But I’m not, and I want to know what the fuck’s going on.”
Simon’s lips twitch. “Shocker.”
I roll my eyes at him. “Smart-ass.”
Simon chuckles, the hand at my back wrapping around my waist as we cross the uneven terrain of Piper and Tate’s backyard. “It’s not a bad thing.” His finger’s flex against my hip. “You spent a long time being in the dark about what was going on in your own life. It’s not surprising you’d want to know everything happening now.”
I gaze up at Simon, trusting him to guide me home safely. I knew he’d tell me what was going on, but I didn’t expect him to understand my reasons for wanting to know quite so well. “I’m not trying to be difficult.”
Simon’s head snaps my way, his brows low. “Nothing about you is difficult, Myra.” His hold on me tightens. “Wanting to be informed about things that affect your life is perfectly fucking normal.”
His fierce defense of my motives has a smile sliding onto my face. “I’m not sure I’d call myself perfectly normal.”
Normal was never an option for me, and I used to hate it. When I came to Memphis, normal was all I wanted. But as time went on,I fell shorter and shorter of normalcy. It made me feel like I was failing. Like once again I was in a place I didn’t belong.
Like I was never going to fit in anywhere in this world.
I’m not sweet and kind and warm like Lydia. I’m not friendly and outgoing like Felicity. I’m not even mouthy and full of fire like Piper.
I’m standoffish. I’m untrusting. I’m skittish and dry. Not most people’s idea of a great time.
“Normal’s relative.” Simon steps behind me, his free hand bracketing the other side of my hips as he keeps me moving, directing me up the stairs leading to my house. “So is perfect.”
I scale the steps, mentally chewing on his words.
He makes it sound so easy to come to terms with the reality I’ve been trying to change. The state of being I thought was eluding me.
It’s been holding me back. Keeping me from chasing down all the things I want—finishing my house. Singing.
Becoming a mom.
But if he’s right, and perfectly normal isn’t the goal, then what’s stopping me from reaching out and grabbing all those things?
Not much.
Technically, I’ve already started. Thanks to Simon, my house is further along than it would have been if it had been left to me to make additional progress on it. Since my vibrator got boring, I was forced to tackle singing. I’ve even scaled the wall blocking me from seeking out the physical connection I’ve been craving.
