Total pages in book: 185
Estimated words: 180510 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 903(@200wpm)___ 722(@250wpm)___ 602(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 180510 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 903(@200wpm)___ 722(@250wpm)___ 602(@300wpm)
“What was that?”
I shake my head, setting the rest of my uneaten candy bar on the table. “I think someone tried to drown him or strangle him. I just remember so clearly the feeling of not being able to breathe, like someone was holding me under water or wrapping their hands around my neck.”
Colten rests his hands on my knees.
“And then this afternoon, I remembered something I did to my Barbie dolls … all of my dolls.”
“You tried to drown them?” he says jokingly.
“No. I cut off all of their hair.”
Colten’s grin falls off his face.
“People can have tics and not know it until someone brings it to their attention. I dated a guy in college who would finish his sentence and then repeat the last few words of the sentence in a whisper, like an echo. He had no idea he did it until I mentioned it. To his knowledge, he didn’t have a condition that would cause it. Maybe it was stress or sleep deprivation, or maybe it was genetic. It’s just interesting that one can do something like that and not realize it. That’s how I feel. I feel like I’ve had something that I didn’t recognize until now. And the pieces now fit where they didn’t fit before. Winston Jeffries has been popping into my life for … well, maybe forever. And I’m only now starting to make the connections.”
“You’re not him, Josie. And you’re not the only person who has cut their baby doll’s or Barbie’s hair. You’re not the first person to see how long you can hold your breath underwater. You’re not the only person who has been curious about death. And while I will concede that you have been and always will be a unique person, it has nothing to do with Winston Jeffries.”
What do I say when he says all the right things? I wish I could love my way through this. Why can’t love be enough? Why can’t love conquer all? Standing, I yawn and stretch my arms over my head. “I’m going to bed.”
Colten nods, gaze on my empty chair. “I’ll be up in a few minutes.” He forces his gaze to mine. “Will you be okay?”
I nod, not hesitating for a single second. I hate that he feels like I can’t be left alone. I feel like a temperamental plant that is always on the verge of dying if it’s watered too little or too much, if you change its location in the house or forget to talk to it. I am the exact opposite of independent.
“Good.” He reaches for my hand and squeezes it. There’s a lot of hand squeezing lately. Colten looks exhausted.
Loving me isn’t easy. I can’t help but wonder if he ever regrets moving to Chicago. I wouldn’t blame him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
New observation: The less worthy one feels, the less they feel anything.
My parents leave Christmas Eve day after lunch to visit Benji. We’ll see them again at the wedding in a few weeks. Becca returns to Texas to be with Chad and his partner for Christmas. It’s just Colten, Reagan, and me until Katy picks her up to be with her and Sean on Christmas morning.
“Josie!” Colten grabs the hot pad and takes the pan from me as I hold its searing hot handle. Only, it’s not searing to me. “Baby, oh shit …” He runs my hand under cool water.
I don’t feel that either.
“Daddy said a bad word,” Reagan observes from her post as present watcher by the tree.
I stare at my hand, red and white. Like Christmas.
“Josie?” Colten presses his chest to my back while keeping my hand under the stream of water. “Say something. How bad is it?”
“I’m … I’m sorry.”
“No.” He kisses my head over and over. “Don’t apologize. But, baby … you didn’t drop the pan or scream or so much as flinch.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop. No.” He wets a towel and wraps it around my hand, turning me to face him. “I think we should get it looked at.”
I ease my head side to side, lifting my unfocused gaze to meet his concerned face. “It’s … fine,” I whisper.
“Daddy, it’s time to open gifts.”
“After dinner, Button,” he says while continuing to scrutinize me.
“Let’s eat.” I hug my hand to my chest and turn toward the plates of food.
“Just sit down. I’ll finish dishing up the food and bring it to the table.”
Reagan hops into her chair. Instead of taking a seat, I stand behind her, stroking her hair with my good hand. “You’d look adorable in short hair.”
“Like yours?” she asks, twisting her body to see me.
I smile and nod.
“Reagan, your mom would not approve of cutting your hair,” Colten says, setting two of the plates on the table and eyeing me—eyeing my hand stroking her hair. A tiny line forms along the bridge of his nose. “Baby, have a seat.” He nods to the chair across from Reagan.