Page 96 of Fall With Me
Dawson’s hand squeezes my shoulder. “The festival turned out amazing because of you. Well done, 007.”
“Thank you,” I manage to get out between sobs. If Kate or Carter wonder why he’s calling me that, they don’t ask.
What feels like hours later, I’m calmer. My head pounds and I’m ready for some pain meds and my bed. “Sorry guys.” I attempt to wipe Carter’s shirt, but it’s useless. His entire shoulder is damp.
“Don’t worry about it,” Carter says.
“Can you get yourself home okay?” Kate asks, her arm around my shoulder as we make our way to the parking lot.
The cool fall night air stings my hot, wet cheeks. “Yeah. Thank you, everyone, for your help tonight.”
We all say our goodbyes, get in our cars, and head out to Sunnyside Avenue. My drive is short and painless. I don’t care about washing my face or brushing my teeth tonight. I shimmy out of my jeans, unhook my bra and fall into bed. Unless Armageddon is coming, I don’t plan to get up for anything the next twelve hours except to empty my bladder.
A few moments after my head hits my pillow, I’m out.
Chapter 44
Chloe
A film of nastiness coats my teeth. I can smell my own bad breath. Cracking my eyes open takes way more effort than it should. My mascara and tears from last night created a sealant. I’m not sure I’ll have any eyelashes left after using my fingers to pry my eyelids open.
Bright sunlight shines through the cracks in my blinds. Without looking at my clock, I can tell it’s late morning, possibly early afternoon. Staggering to the bathroom, I get a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Yikes. I look like a mix between a raccoon and Medusa.
I came in here just to pee and brush my teeth before going back to bed, but there’s no fixing this mess without a complete hose-down. Hopping in the shower, I think about seeing Dawson yesterday. How mad I was when I thought he bailed on me, then how grateful when he showed up, worked his cute butt off, and saved the day with his family. There is no way I could have done everything without his help.
Standing under the water, I let it wash my shampoo and guilt over what happened to Finn away. The warm spray cleanses my negative thoughts of being like Mom. Chloe’s words from last night echo in my mind. “Youare in control of your life. Not your mom. Please stop letting your mom’s mistakes shut everyone out of your life. Youcanhave Dawson and Finn, but only if you stop running every time there’s a mistake. It’s time for you to choose what it isyouwant, not what you want to avoid.”
Last night I decided I wanted Finn and Dawson back in my life. Today, I feel the same. Hopefully, Dawson wants that too.
I get out of the shower, and my phone pings with a text.
Daw-Bear: Are you awake? Do you still want to talk today?
Me: Yes and yes.
Daw-Bear: Do you mind coming to my house? I have something for you.
Me: [side-eye emoji] What is it?
Daw-Bear: A surprise.
Me: What kind of surprise?
Daw-Bear: If I tell you, it will ruin the surprise. But I promise you’ll like it.
Me: On my way.
I debate taking time to blow-dry my hair and put makeup on, but I decide to forgo getting ready. Braiding my hair as fast as my fingers can move, I get dressed in leggings and an oversized sweater and head to Dawson’s. Wings beat inside my stomach. I’m excited and nervous about this conversation. I’m hopeful but staying cautious until I see him in person and hear from his own mouth that he wants to try a relationship again.
I knock on his door, clasping my hands in front of me. It feels too stiff. I fold my arms across my chest, but it’s too confrontational. I’m in the middle of adjusting my arms again when the door swings wide. Dawson’s in gray joggers and a long sleeve black shirt. My eyes rake over his glorious form. My heart stops beating.
“Hey,” I say lamely.
“Hey, 007. Come on in.” He steps to the side, letting me enter his house.
I get my shoes off and hesitantly follow him. Silly me assumed we’d head to his couch, but he directs me to the island in his kitchen.
He pulls out a stool for me. I sit. Bowls of avocado, salsa, cilantro, lime, and sour cream are in front of me. Dawson goes to the oven, pulling out a pan and setting it on the stovetop. I sit up taller, trying to see around his back, but I can’t. All I know is it smells like eggs and some sort of meat.
