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But just as I’m deciding to go for it, Breanna stands up and turns as though she’s heading to the bathroom. She takes two steps toward the bathroom.
“Watch ou-” is all that I have time to say before she stumbles over one of Jaxon’s toy dinosaurs.
Her balance must be affected by the alcohol, because she goes down immediately.
I hear a strange crunch sound and leap to my feet to see what happened.
“Breanna?” I ask.
As she stands up, I see what made the noise.
She landed on her hand holding the wine glass. And what was once the wine glass is now just… glass. Bits of it are scattered in the carpet, and I see pinpricks of blood on Breanna’s arm where it hit the glass.
She winces as she looks at her arm. “Wow. I think I’m done for the night.”
“Let me get you something to clean up. Don’t move. I don’t want you to get any in your foot. I’ll get a vacuum.”
I head off to gather anything that might help fix Breanna’s clumsiness. I should probably bring her a cold glass of water too, but I kind of like her like this, more open, more talkative.
As I find the things I’ve promised her I’m bringing, there's a newfound sense of connection between the two of us. The barriers that once existed seem to have crumbled, replaced by a shared understanding that life's journey is marked by struggles, victories, and the resilience to navigate through both.
The day that began with tension and guilt now concludes with a shared understanding, a step towards building a more compassionate connection between the two of us.
Chapter thirteen
Breanna
Istare at my arm in wonder, watching as three pinpricks of blood bubble up. Glass must have penetrate my skin.
I’m such a klutz, and I’m embarrassed. I don’t want Harrison to see me like this.
But at the same time, the worry and awkwardness are at the back of my mind. The majority of my mind feels happy and relaxed, something I haven’t felt in a long time.
Harrison returns a moment later with a vacuum and a couple of wet paper towels. I dab the paper towels on my arm, and the bleeding stops almost immediately.
But my shirt is soaked through.
Even my pants have a few drips of wine in them. Maybe I should have finished the glass before marching through the house holding it. I know it doesn’t take a lot to affect my balance.
I reach for the hem of my shirt to pull it over my head. That’s my natural reaction to having a wet shirt on. But then, I glance at Harrison.
Maybe I shouldn’t. I should wait until…
I glance around, losing my train of thought.
Harrison gently nudges me onto the now-vacuumed carpet, and I step over, so he can vacuum the place right under me.
I watch him with a strange fascination. Part of me wants to comment on how I didn’t know he was able to use any sort of cleaning device, but the other part of me is just grateful.
I see that he is a kind human being, even if he doesn’t let everyone see that.
Once he snaps off the vacuum, he evaluates me up and down. “Do you… need a shirt or something?”
“I think I need a shower, a cold one to sober me up. Can I… no, I’ll just walk back to my house.”
“Not like that. I know you live just next door. But… go ahead and shower. I’ll find something for you to wear.”
If Harrison had suggested this yesterday, I would have said “no way.”
