Page 12 of Won't Let Go
“Because you love me,” Josh sings, slaps me on the rear like we’re on the same football team, and races ahead, laughing.
“Hey!” I scold. How dare he touch my ass. It aches along with everything else as I keep my own steady pace, and a certain someone with all those muscles and tattoos runs like a gazelle. He beats me home. Of course, he does. When I trudge up the steps, using the railing to keep me from falling, I nearly collapse onto the floor just inside the sweet, sweet air conditioning. Shucking my shirt over my head, I throw the soaked garment into a pile and tear off my shoes, socks, and shorts. In my granny panties and bra, I huff it into the kitchen, where Josh’s eyesget as round as a spacecraft when he slides me a fresh glass of lemonade.
I gulp down the contents in one go and try to control my breathing for the next seventy-two years. Okay. I’m a bit dramatic, but I’m exhausted. That was tough. Resting my hands on the counter, my head hanging low, I try to settle my racing heart. The remnants of sweat run down my back. Even my butt crack has turned into a swamp.
Yes. I know. TMI. But it’s true.
Josh touches my shoulder. “You good?” He sounds genuinely concerned, his voice rougher than usual.
I nod.
Yep. I’m good. Tired and achy, but… surprisingly less sad or numb than I’ve been. Shhh. Don’t tell him I told you that.
“I’m gonna shower.” Pushing off the counter, I make my way to the bathroom, where I peel off the rest of my clothes, turn on tepid water, and wash all the sweat away. It’s refreshing, and when I climb out and wrap a towel around my breasts, I don’t feel so crappy anymore. In my bedroom, I throw on a comfy, black-and-white skulls pajama set and meet Josh in the kitchen for dinner. It’s a quiet one. Companionable even. Both of us seem lost in thought as we finish our salads before settling into our favorite seats in the living room for a movie night—him on the couch and me in my chair.
He tosses me a fluffy blanket from my blanket basket, and I drape it over my legs as he turns onFight Club,one of our favorites.
Halfway through the film we’ve seen a thousand times together, he pops us popcorn and offers me my favorite bowl—a black, plastic one with Halloween ghouls all over the side.
I gasp in childhood delight when I see mini-M&Ms mixed in with all the buttery goodness. My favorite. “Where’d you findthem?” I ask, picking up a tiny blue one and showing it to Josh before popping it in my mouth.
“I got them from the store yesterday, when you were at work.”
“They’re not against my diet?”
Josh pauses the movie and gives me a stern look. “You’re not on a diet, Jade.”
“It sure feels like it.”
“Eating healthier, nutrient-dense foods feeds the gut and fuels the body. Chocolate and popcorn make the brain happy. We’re trying to make you happier. To help. Because you won’t take medication or talk to anyone. It’s not to punish you… Fuck. Why would you think you need to lose weight?”
On a shrug, I pat my pudgy stomach. “Duh. Because I’m fat.” Sure, I was bigger before the warehouse, and I’ve lost a lot of weight since, but I’m still fat. I’ve always been fat.
Shaking his head, Josh sets his popcorn bowl on the coffee table and leans forward. “I’m not even gonna touch that bullshit. However, just to be crystal clear, none of this is about weight. It’s about making you better. For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve always yo-yoed on some fad diet, and not once have I thought you should.”
Uh-huh. Sure. I’m not buying it. Before what happened to me, I was easily a size twenty. Maybe bigger, if I’m honest. I haven’t tried on new clothes since, but if I had to guess where I’m at now, I’m a few sizes smaller. Neither Josh nor Loretta has ever struggled with their weight. The only sister I spend any time with who’d ever understand what it’s like to live in a bigger body is Jez, and she loves how she looks. I never have, which is partly why I became a tattoo artist. Tattoos give you confidence. That’s why I’m covered in them. If they can appreciate my art, maybe they’ll care less about my pale skin or size. If that doesn’t work, cleavage. I have all the cleavage.
When Josh continues to drone on about his plans to make me happier and healthier, I drown him out in favor of eating popcorn with yummy chocolate. If you’ve never added sweets to your popcorn, you’re seriously missing out. It’s one of the best things in life, and that’s not an exaggeration.
Eventually, he peters out and switches our movie back on, which turns into a marathon of Brad Pitt—a littleMr. & Mrs. Smithand12 Monkeysto round out the evening before we clean up the kitchen together and go to bed.
6
WHITE BOY
A crash ripsme from my sleep, and I’m on my feet in seconds.
“No!” Jade screeches.
Bolting out of Hunter’s room into hers without knocking, the moonlight casts a glow across Jade’s all-black space. Banging her fists into the mattress, she thrashes as painful moans rip from her throat.
“Stop! Please stop!” she sobs, arching her back off the mattress. Her arm flings to the side and knocks her phone off the nightstand onto the floor.
Heart racing, I stand at the foot of her bed, fucking clueless. I don’t think you’re supposed to wake people up from nightmares, are you?
“Please! Not again!” Clawing at her throat and pressing her legs together, Jade tries to fight off the intruder in her dreams.
My heart cracks straight down the goddamn center.
