Page 59 of Just a Plot Twist
“Maybe it’s more the realization that I should have just used my crutches like a normal person.”
I hesitate and she laughs. “I know you agree.”
“I do. But, like I said, I like taking care of you.”
She shudders in my arms. I want to kiss her. But then my standing fears resurface. This isn’t even a proper date. It was an impromptu…thing…and she deserves more consideration than that.
Besides, it’s been nearly twenty years since I even kissed anyone besides my ex. It’s not something I take lightly—her lack of experience notwithstanding.
She takes a step back, letting her arms drop to her sides. “Thanks again. For everything.”
I wait until she’s started the car and turns to drive back to Longdale before I head home.
The drive is long. My body is exhausted, but my mind is wide awake.
It’s full of the over-the-top opulence of the extravaganza. And how everything about the evening was tied to Claire.
I miss having someone by my side. I miss taking care of a woman and being taken care of by her. Watching out for someone and laughing with someone? There’s nothing like it. I want the inside jokes and the total trust that she has your back and you have hers. Always.
And then it slams into me all over again, like it has ever since Danica left. Sometimes “always” doesn’t actually mean always.
Chapter 20
Benson
I wake up Sunday morning groggy, with pulsating thoughts of Claire in my brain. I also have a headache that only gets worse when Cinnamon refuses to take her pills. Once I get the bright idea to coat the pill cushion things in peanut butter and dangle Milk Bones in front of her face, she finally gives in and takes them.
By Sunday afternoon, she’s gotten the hang of the doggie door.
“This is only temporary,” I reiterate to Cinnamon. “Both the lodgings here and the doggie door. Don’t get any ideas.” She only looks at me as she walks slowly toward me, waddling her hips side to side, her big brown eyes holding confusion. Something must help, though, because I don’t have to clean up a single mess that day.
My father isn’t in the office on Monday, and the day goes by quickly as I attend meetings in his stead and then leave work early to pick up Dax and Indie from school.
They got back from Connecticut last night, and per the agreement Danica and I signed, if she needs to have the kids with her on my days—Friday evening to Sunday evening—then they can stay with me on school evenings the following week.
“Mom says we have to go to a park,” Dax grumbles when he gets in the front seat. The presence of Cinnamon makes him smile, though. She shimmies up next to him, getting in his face. “Ugh, did you just eat a smelly dog treat?” he asks her as he scratches her face and ears, grimacing.
“It’s the vitamin I gave her. Do you smell peanut butter, too?”
He leans in closer, giving Cinnamon the opportunity to lick his nose. “Yuck!” He pulls a face and then starts grinning again. “Yes, I do. I won’t be eating peanut butter for awhile.”
Indie laughs from the back seat. “I don’t care if Cinnamon smells like peanut butter, I still want some. I’m hungry.”
I glance at the rearview mirror and lock eyes with Indie. She grins from ear to ear. “You want peanut butter…” I point to her reflection. “…You shall have peanut butter. But what’s this about needing to stop at a park?”
Dax scoots the dog off his lap so he can rummage around his backpack. He pulls out a creased paper. When he tries to hand it to me, I hold up a palm. “Dude, I’m driving. I can’t read that right now. What does it say?”
“Science.”
“All it says is the word ‘science’?” I tease.
“Dad,” I feel more than witness the eye roll. “I have to finish filling out my ecosystem observation journal.”
“School’s almost over for the summer. You still have to do stuff for class?”
“Yeah. I’m late turning it in because of the trip.”
“Okay, you want to stop at that park we found awhile back?” I hope so because it’s right on the way home.
