Page 65 of Forever Fallen

“I’m sure they did.”

“Let’s wash them again, maybe with some vinegar? Worst case? I could always run to the store in Tyler and buy a new set of sheets to replace them.”

“I’ll start the washer,” she offered, leaning up to kiss his chin. “You cook that French toast. Then we’ll tackle finishing up the guest rooms. I think we have a few more things of yours to bring down…”

“Oh?”

“That duffle bag is almost as big as I am and just as heavy,” she began, smiling. “I wasn’t about to try to lift it or shove it down the stairs. I also need to touch up my room.”

“Youroldroom,” he corrected, leaning down to kiss her.

“Myoldroom,” she confirmed, seeing his smile.

* * *

Hours later,they were both talking to each other from across the railings from each of the rooms they were working in. Ryan was telling her about his time at the Air Force Academy and when he was first stationed in Afghanistan… and she told him about growing up here in Yonder.

The fact that they were talking, sharing, and discussing things was wonderful – making ‘work’ almost feel like it was fun. She truly enjoyed spending time with him.

“Hey…” he called out, causing Sophie to lean out of the door – only to see him leaning as well, in almost the same position. “I love you.”

He grinned playfully, before continuing.

“I’m going to get the things out of the dryer and bring up some of the linen spray I saw on the shelves in the basement. Do you want another cup of coffee or need me to carry anything down?”

“Me…?” she laughed, “I’ve been up and down the stairs about fifteen times and my legs are sore.”

“Ohhh well lucky you!” he grinned. “Not only is my French toast excellent – I’m amazing at massages.”

Sophie laughed openly, shaking her head.

“Now who told you that?”

“Nobody… and you don’t have to laugh quite so hard at that, you know,” Ryan said, frowning. “I was trying to offer to be nice and rub your feet or ankles. Sheesh. Tough crowd today…”

“Ryan, you don’t have to do any of that,” Sophie smiled and then crooked her finger at him. “But you could come over and tell me if this looks enough like a hotel room instead of my old bedroom.”

Ryan walked over, carrying a basket full of different items to pull out of the bedroom. Some things looked awfully masculine, and she realized they were his – but others definitely not. There was another crochet doll there in the basket, along with a few doilies.

“You’ve got a thing against those dolls, don’t you?”

“They are creepy, and the hollow, dead eyes watch me…” he grimaced.

Sophie laughed again before reaching up to touch his face, patting him on the cheek.

“Is my scary Reaper frightened of a bunch of dolls?”

“When they are the creepy, cock-eyed or lazy-eyed, freakish dolls that watch me as I move around the room? Yes. They stare at you and one of the eyelids won’t open all the way… ugh…” he shivered. “I hate these dolls and they can all go away immediately.”

“I ought to dig them out of the trash and have them reappear in places for you to find them,” she said deviously, smiling wickedly at him.

“Please don’t.”

“Maybe I’ll put one in your duffle bag when you leave?”

“Okaaaay… good to know that my wife has a sick sense of humor,” Ryan muttered, looking stunned and horrified at her suggestion. “No dolls in my bag. This is me begging for my sanity now, Sophie. Promise me – no dolls.”

“Sheesh. You’re no fun.”

---