Page 49 of Compassion

My reach.

Maybe I should drape my arm around her shoulder?

Reach for her hand?

Lean over and…

Nope.

None of that.

And where were you to stop that train of thought from leaving the fucking station?

The woman at my side lifts the sample and nonchalantly nods. “I like it. It’s kind of earthy. Kind of moody.”

“You and those ys today,” I playfully jab.

She teasingly bumps into me again, this time swaying my figure a little more than expected, prompting me to wrap my arm around her waist to latch my hand onto her hip to assist in keeping me upright. My reaction is instant yet removing my grip once it’s landed is reluctant. Having her tucked tightly against me feels like all the pieces in life are right where they’re supposed to be despite the fact that I know those same pieces will never really belong here.

Or get to stay here.

That I’ll never do anything that could earn them the right to be here.

I begin to pry my fingers away only to be met by her body inching towards me.

Wordlessly requesting I keep them where they are.

And the doubt in the front of my mind that that’s what she’s asking gets aggressively slammed to the back when she peers up at me while less than innocently biting her bottom lip.

Um…okay. This uh…happening?

“What do you think about…uh…an uh…,” getting my brain to focus on words rather than having her glossed lips on top of mine feels impossible, “um…the edges?”

“Huh?”

Her cluelessness causes my ability to speak correctly to go back into place. “The trim.” I clear my throat and continue the conversation. “What color should we do forthe trim?”

“Oh!” She whips her head back to the wall, free bouncing curls slapping more sense into me. “I think anything in the white family should do. I don’t reallylikewhite like I said, but I think it meshes well for a trim. Maybe something off white? More beige? Something that will blend better?”

“Most of those were questions, sweetheart.”

Jaye noticeably lights up over the nickname yet doesn’t outwardly acknowledge it. “I know. I’m just throwing things out there. Seeing whatyouwant.” Her gaze meets mine as she adds. “Whatwewant.”

Hm? Yeah, now would be a great time to be like us naked and banging on that bathroom floor, but I’m not gonna say it, just like it’s not gonna happen.

“I think an off white-shade is a good idea.”

Us, on the other hand?

Not so much.

She resumes browsing her options while I investigate other areas of renovations. “I know we need to get some shit for me to fix the towel racks that are a bit wobbly and that small leak under the sink, but do you wanna look at anything else while we’re here? Cabinets? Toilets? Lighting?”

“That’s a lot of different things,” Jaye stops mid movement of grabbing a piece of paper to meet my gaze again. “You really know how to do all that?”

“Mostly, yeah.” The expression on my face struggles not to fall. “I grew up in foster care and learned early on, the more useful I could make myself, the longer I might get to stay. I picked up tidbits of basic shit as early as eight, so by the time I was sixteen, it was a lot easier to do more of the complicated shit my last foster father was eager to teach me about.”

She doesn’t hide the heartache that appears in her eyes. “You know you don’t have to be ‘useful’ to stay with me, right, Archer?” Her body presses firmly against mine robbing me of the breath I didn’t realize I had been holding. “I want you around regardless of if you do any of this shit or not.”

---