Page 150 of The Persistence of Thornes
Me: Whatever makes you feel better.
Quinn: Cool.
Casen: Whatever.
By the state of the kitchen, it’s obvious the boys fed themselves this morning. Cereal bowls with sugary milk sit in the sink, several cabinets aren’t fully shut, and though the orange juice made it back into the fridge, its lid did not.
I want to check on Halle, but I’m hopeful she was able to go to sleep, so I putter around the house, folding and refolding the throw blankets in the living room. I dig a shoe out from under the couch—one of Casen’s that went missing days ago.
I’m shoving the boys’ video game cases back onto a shelf when there’s a soft knock on the front door.
“How’s she feeling?” Salem asks when I pull the door open.
“Better, I think, but I’m trying to let her rest.”
She rolls her eyes playfully. “You’ve always been such a hover-er. This must be killing you. Anyway, I had leftover chicken noodle soup in the freezer. Figured it might help.”
“Thanks.” I take the container from her with a grateful smile.
“And a cupcake for you.” She balances it on top of the container, then takes a step back. “Cupcakes make every day better. If you need anything, let me know.”
Once she’s gone, I put the soup in the fridge, figuring I’ll be pushing my luck if I try to feed Halle anything other than plain broth tonight.
I disinfect the first floor, hoping like hell it’ll keep the rest of us from getting sick. Then, unable to resist the temptation, I peek in on Halle. She’s asleep again, her mouth ajar like it was earlier.
God, she’s fucking adorable.
But she’d probably kill me for thinking so.
I pack a bag for the boys and set it on the front porch, adding necessities, like toothbrushes and deodorant, they forgot to add to the list. I probably don’t want to know what kind of shit they’re going to get into with Cynthia and Thelma. Something tells me it’ll be more than crochet.
With nothing else to do, I make myself a quick meal. I’m not all that hungry, but I figure it’s better if I eat while Halle is still asleep.
It’s weird, how quiet the house is now that I’m effectively alone. I’ve been on my own a while, but living with other people for a few months has left me spoiled. They’ve brought life into my home, and I dread the day they move out. It’s selfish of me. I’m sure they’re anxious to get back into their own space, but I… fuck, it’s going to suck. Yeah, they’ll only be next door, but the distance isn’t the issue here. What eats at me the most is knowing I’ll be alone again. I’ve found my people—is it so wrong to want to be with them?
I’m putting my plate in the dishwasher when the floor above creaks.
As much as I want to rush upstairs to help Halle, I hold myself back.
She’s not the kind of girl to take kindly to my smothering.
Five minutes is all I manage to wait, though, before I force myself to take slow steps upstairs.
When I step into my room, she’s propped up in bed, wearing a tired smile.
“Hey,” she says softly. “Thank you for letting me sleep.”
“You were out for a while.” I look her over, wishing I could interpret how she feels. “You needed the rest.”
“I’m sorry I took over your bedroom.”
“Halle,” I sigh as I shuffle closer. “The last thing I’m worried about is you in my room.”
“Still, I’m sure you want your room back. I can?—”
I quiet her with a look. “Nice try.”
“Then you should stay in my room. I don’t want to get you sick.”
