Page 48 of One Little Kiss
“Noises bother him.”
His hands were covering his ears earlier.
Instinctively, I wrap my arms around his little body and rock the way I’d seen Winnie do it. I can’t remember what she was singing to him, but I do remember her song at the airport. So as my family stares at me in shock, I quietly sing the Violent Femmes song, “Blister In The Sun”.
“For the love of God, Colton. You couldn’t think of anything else?” Preston scolds.
“Get. Out.” I sound calm, but my words are deadly.
“What?”
“You’re upsetting him. Get. Out.”
“You want me to leave?” he asks incredulously.
“You obviously are not here to support us, so yes. Get out. I won’t say it again.”
“This isn’t how we do things,” Preston hisses. “We stick together.”
“Yeah, that’s good advice, Pres. I suggest you go home and figure out if that works both ways.”
Dropping my gaze to Weston, I continue singing as Preston storms out of the building and down the stairs.
“Is he, is he on the spectrum, Colton?” Emory asks patiently.
“I don’t even know what that means,” I admit.
“Autistic,” Emory corrects.
“No,” Beth answers for me. “The pediatrician doesn’t think so, but there are so many variables. Winnie isn’t sure. She hasn’t been able to afford the testing he needs yet.”
“Something’s wrong with him?” My throat is dry, and my stomach clenches with worry.
“No,” Winnie mumbles behind me. “He’s perfect. Where is he? I-I’ll take him.”
She’s disheveled and confused, but mad as hell.
“That’s a trigger for her, Colton. There is absolutely nothing wrong with him. We just don’t know how to help him,” Beth explains.
“Stop talking about him like he isn’t here. Stop, please,” Winnie cries as her eyelids grow heavy again.
“What the hell, Emory?”
“I agree with Beth. I think Winnie is experiencing full-blown exhaustion. It can manifest in several ways, from hallucinations to a practically functional sleep-walk.” Emory rounds the twin-size bed we’re all crammed around and crouches down beside me. “Do you have any idea the amount of stress and lack of sleep it would take for someone to reach this level of exhaustion?”
I swallow the fear attempting to creep into my words. “What does she need?”
“Sleep. Honestly, most of the time, being hospitalized for exhaustion is an excuse for celebrities to detox, but this is one of those rare cases of someone actually needing it.”
“No,” Winnie attempts to sit up.
Beth places a hand on her shoulder to keep her in place. “She’s Weston’s sole caretaker, and her father is trying to get custody. H-He’s an alcoholic and in no way fit to parent, but he wants the money she gets from the state for raising him.”
“Mother fucker,” I hiss.
Emory scolds me with a silent expression while making eyes at Weston.
“Sleep.” I nod. “What else does she need?”
