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I wondered if Jessica heard her, too.
The sun's soft rays refracted through the empty glass of the rum bottle. I didn't remember finishing it. Or much of anything for that matter. Though that was the point. Hauling myself to my feet, I stumbled over to the desk, the alcohol still very much having its tentacles around me.
I looked like death and felt even worse. Showering off the previous night, I went out into the master bedroom and put on some fresh clothes and went to try and remember how to make breakfast. Jessica was probably hungry.
Once I got in there, it took me a moment to pick my jaw up from the floor. Not only was Jessica sitting in her chair, washed, dried, combed, and nicely dressed, but Becky was also laying out breakfast. I thought for sure she would be gone after what I had done to her. At least out to the guest house, if not out of the property altogether, taking her chances with the cops. Yet, there she was, dressed in her usual yoga pants and hoodie, long, dark hair pulled back into a loose ponytail.
How much did she know? Had Becky heard me talking to Simone? Was she even really there at all?
Wordlessly, she came over and embraced me. Becky was definitely real.
I looked at little Jessica, the picture of precocious innocence and so much like her sweet mother. My loving sister, who had died too damn young.
The tears took me by surprise. Had I felt them coming, I would have stopped them, but I had been distracted. Once the advanced force had gained ground on my cheekbones, there was no way to stop the rest of them. I held onto Becky as though my life depended on it, sobbing uncontrollably into her shoulder as she gently stroked my hair.Chapter Thirteen - BeckyIt wasn't in the job description, but there I was. Doing my official job as a nanny to Jessica, as well as tending to Dean. It had been a hell of a breakdown, and for a while there, I wasn't sure he would make it out the other end.
My boss spent days in his room in the dark. I would visit him as often as I could. Bringing him food, making sure he wasn't about to do anything drastic. I didn't really think Dean would, but grief could strangle people, and it was better to be safe than sorry.
Most days he barely knew I was there. I would just bring in his meals and leave them on the night-table. Sometimes, when he seemed in a really bad way, I would gently stroke his hair to let him know he wasn't alone.
I didn't really mind suddenly having to take care of two people. Jessica was just a kid, and Dean didn't seem to be in any condition to be left to his own devices. It was a bit sudden, but when he broke like that, being really vulnerable, it made me wonder if I had misjudged him. Or at least, if his actions had an underlying cause I wasn't seeing. Like his sudden bouts of coldness were intentional, like was turning off his emotions so he wouldn't have to feel the pain he was trying to avoid.
When the defenses came down, so did the act, and Dean was flooded with more emotion than he could handle. An experience that could be crippling even to the best of us.
My mom went through something similar when my dad died. Going into a sort of dream state, barely speaking for months. Eventually, she came out of it, but I would never forget it. I had come home from college to take care of her as she recovered. I felt it too. My daddy was the first man I had really loved, but I had to stay strong for my mom.
A touch roused me from my thoughts. It was so sudden I jerked back. I had just put down dinner for Dean and was reaching out to stroke his hair when he reached out and took my arm, making me yelp with surprise.
“Please,” he said, pulling me towards him.
Understanding what he meant, I took off my hoodie and yoga pants, leaving my bra and panties on, and got into bed with him, Dean gently spooning me from behind. He was dressed too, wearing the clothes he'd had on the day he came into the dining room.
To my slight surprise, he didn't try any funny business. Not groping my tits on trying to get his hand in my panties. He didn't even kiss me. From what I could tell, he didn't even get hard.
What I had mistaken for an amorous need I was willing to indulge, turned out to be a need of a different sort. It may sound weird, but I think he might have been basically using me like a warm, woman-sized teddy bear. More in need of comfort than anything else.
