Page 80 of There's Pumpkin About You
I open my eyes, looking down to see the most beautiful sight. Wren sleeps peacefully in my arms, her curls spread out behind her. Her naked body is warm against mine and for someone who hates physical contact, I find myself reveling in the feel of her skin pressed to me.
Her breathing is deep, her face relaxed. It’s exactly like when I put her to bed the night of the storm. When I laid her down, it may sound creepy but I stayed and watched her for a second. At the time, it was just nice to see her when she wasn’t yelling at me or shooting back some retort laced with an abundance of attitude. Looking at her like that, I was able to take a minute to truly appreciate her—appreciate the way she didn’t need the sun to make her skin glow, didn’t have to try and pout those full lips.
Now, as her eyes flit with dreams, I’m able to do so again—admire the beauty even though nowadays it’s clear as day even when she frowns and even when she shouts.
I have a plan for today, one that I’m hoping she’ll be happy to carry out with me, especially now that I’ve helped her to sort out most of the work for her friend’s party.
Maybe, today, if I’m brave enough that is, I’ll be able to accomplish step six. If I’m lucky.
She stirs, moving her head from my chest as she slowly blinks herself awake. She looks around, the sun showcasing the green in her eyes.
“Good morning,” I smile, kissing her softly. She hums against my lips and a zip runs down my spine.
“Morning,” she replies, stretching as she yawns.
“Sleep okay?”
“Considering you knocked me into a coma thanks to all the orgasms, I’d say so, yeah.”
A chuckle leaves my chest, coarse from all of the sleep. I plant a kiss on the side of her forehead.
She lightly traces my tattoo causing goosebumps to erupt all over my skin.
“What does ‘CF’ stand for?” she asks.
“Caroline Finch,” I reply lowly, the subject of my mother causing my chest to tighten. “My mom.”
She looks sorrowful as she stares at the tattoo, now with the new knowledge behind its meaning.
“You must have loved her very much.”
“More than anything,” I mumble as I rest my hand over hers. I shake my head, ridding my mind of the memories of my mother’s funeral. How the feeling of remorse and grief making me choke on the air around me. “As much as I’d love nothing more than to stay in bed all day, I have an appointment to get to.”
Her face deflates and I realize I’ve said that quite bluntly. I lean forward until I can feel her breath fanning my face.
I firmly grab her chin. “Relax, sweetheart. Don’t go running into your own head. You’re coming with me.”
She looks at me with curiosity burning in her eyes. I love the inquisitiveness that shines through her when I surprise her. She looks for the reasoning behind things and I wonder whether or not that’s because she thinks she’s undeserving of such attention. It’s a criminal thought to have and if that is the case, I plan on eradicating the notion entirely.
“Get ready and meet me in the kitchen. And this time, don’t surprise me whilst I’m cooking the bacon.”
* * *
An hour later, we’re in the car on the way to Liliton, our stomachs full and our spirits high.
Wren hasn’t stopped smiling the entire journey and it makes me want to do all I can to keep it on her face.
“Okay, can you seriously tell me where we’re going?” Wren asks.
“This time, yes, I can.” I signal left. “There’s a sanctuary in Liliton that houses animals with nowhere else to go. Sometimes, they become over capacity, and when that happens they usually give me a call to see whether I have space for them on the farm.”
I can feel her eyes on me, watching me in that way she does whenever I reveal something about myself. I know I don’t give her much. If I’m being honest, it’s down to shame. I used to be so ashamed of anything that showed me to be soft, more than what I appear. It felt like something that could be used against me. If anyone saw that I have a weakness other than my Autism, I assumed it would be used as further reason for me to be considered useless, pathetic.
Now, however, I’m starting to see that my love for animals isn’t something that needs to be hidden like some dirty little secret. And more to the point, I’ve realized that my Autism isn’t a weakness. Wren has helped me see that. I should appreciate that I’m different, not be so hard on myself for needing to live my life a certain way. The world is… a lot. Too much sometimes. I’m finally learning that that’s okay.
“That’s why there’s so many different animals in the barn.”
“Mhmm.” I adjust my grip on the steering wheel. “I love animals. They’re… easier to understand.”
