Page 39 of Lucky Laces
My dad is going to love that.
Not that I want—or need—them here.
I’ve managed on my own for a decade now—or longer if I’m taking into account all those afternoons and nights and early mornings on my own in the back yard or the neighborhood outdoor rink or the indoor barn where my team had practices or games.
I don’t need my dad in my fucking face, telling me what a pussy I am and to toughen up, all while my mom frets around with nervous energy but doesn’t do one goddamned thing to make it better.
So, something else I owe Diana for.
My head pulses, and I rub at the ache, hating that items keep getting scratched onto it my mental thank you list for her.
Mostly because I hate that I have no idea how to repay her.
Hate that she clearly took pity on me by bringing me here.
Hate more that she’s seen what my parents are like—and clearly has opinions on them.
Who wouldn’t?
No one in their right mind.
My dad’s not a lovable old codger, and my mom isn’t going to bake delicious oatmeal chocolate chip cookies.
They’re barely interested in my life.
Except to tell me all the things that I’m doing wrong.
Something I also hate…and something that brings me tomorethings I hate—like lying awake when I should be sleeping, and being slightly nauseous from the pain pill Dee forced me to take but also sort of hungry because the crackers they gave me at the hospital didn’t exactly fill me up.And, perhaps worst of all, critically aware that Diana isn’t asleep either.
Her soft footsteps sound overhead—her bedroom clearly on the floor above.
I listen to them echo through the ceiling, knowing she’s trying to move quietly.They’re too precise, too gentle to be anything but.
I still hear them, though.Can follow their sound toward my door, to the hall, down the stairs…
There I lose them, and I think she’s probably going to the kitchen for a midnight snack—something that makes my stomach rumble—or maybe to move around laundry or pour a glass of wine from the bottle she’d rescued earlier.One that had been perched near the edge of the counter in her kitchen when we made our slow way inside.One she’d left me teetering in place to save.
And then had turned back to me with pink in her cheeks.“It’s really good wine.”
Her blush, the chagrined smile.
Yeah, I’m so totally fucked.
But I just made some joke about not having to clean up glass as she came back to me and we continued on the way to the bedroom I’m currently staring at the ceiling of.
Water and pills.
Then an order to rest.
And I had fallen asleep so quickly that I barely remember the door shutting behind her—maybe it’s the drugs’ fault, maybe it’s my parents bringing their special brand of chaos.Maybe it’s just been a really fucking long day.
After a really fucking long series of long ass days.
Whatever the reason, I was out as inout.
Until I wasn’t.
And now I’m creeping on footsteps I can hear overhead, wondering about what kind of midnight snack Diana prefers and wishing that my phone wasn’t lost somewhere in the debris of her office so I could watch some boring ass war documentary and fall back asleep.
