I thought it would be weird to sleep with her in my childhood bedroom. In a house where we grew up, where every room holds a memory of a young Sutton and my sister. Where I would chase them around like a lunatic, pretending to be a monster. Or playGo Fishor board games, or I’d tell them ghost stories on Halloween after we returned from trick-or-treating and rummaged through our loot.
But none of those memories warranted a moment’s consideration as I slid into her each time, her willingness to accept me for who I am and who I’ve been is the only thing that brings me any measure of comfort these days.
As if she knows I’m thinking about her, Sutton rolls over to her back to find me blatantly ogling her naked form.
“What are you staring at?” Her morning voice is raspy and throaty, not dissimilar to the way her voice rasped last night.
I place a kiss on her bare shoulder and trail my finger over her collarbone, descending a path between her cleavage, discarding the sheet as I go.
“This has to be the best sleepover I’ve ever had in this house.”
Sutton blushes, giggling from under her arm that covers her face. “But I have morning breath and messy hair and no make-up.”
“None of which I care about because you are beautiful any time of day.” I remove her arm from her face and brush the strands of hair out of her eyes. “I’m just sorry it took me so goddamn long to figure that out, Button.”
She rolls to the side to face me, my palm dropping to her shoulder as I run my knuckles over the smooth velvety skin I’ve been itching to touch since I woke earlier this morning.
I’ve actually been awake for an hour now. After using the bathroom, letting Blackie outside and feeding him, and putting on a pot of coffee, I returned to watch a sleeping Sutton. I tried to conjure up all the memories I could of her and Mel back in the day, and if at any point, I saw her as anything more than my sister’s friend.
Perhaps had there not been such a noticeable age gap as kids, it might have been different. But by the time I left for college, she and Mel were still in middle school, jailbait for an eighteen-year-old guy. And it never dawned on me to think twice about Button.
The fact that I have no recollection of the kiss we shared the day of Mel’s funeral is just a travesty. By that time, Sutton was a senior in high school and had matured enough not to be seen as a little girl or kid. I’m sure she was just as striking then as she is now. She has a natural beauty and sensual sweetness that radiates outwardly to the world.
All I remember of that day is that I was mired in grief and completely inconsolable. Filled with so much anger and rage over losing my baby sister that I was blind to anything or anyone around me. Even the beautiful, starry-eyed girl who was eager to share in my grief and be a shoulder to cry on.
Sutton smiles up through her long lashes, and I bend down to kiss the top of her forehead.
“We can’t change the past, Miles. But I’m really liking the direction the future is taking now.”
A phone buzzing in the distance pulls us out of our bubble, and I pat around the bed to see if I can find it. Sutton rolls to the side, grabbing her phone, scrolling through some texts as they appear on her display, and her eyes grow wide with panicked shock.
“Oh my God,” she says, throwing off the sheet and jumping out of bed, searching the vicinity for her clothes. “I’ve got to go home, Miles. It’s my boss, my friend Lucy. It’s her son. They’re at Children’s Hospital. He has to go in for emergency surgery. I. . . I. . .”
I roll out of bed, throwing on some shorts and a T-shirt that I found in the dresser bureau as I go in search of the lost articles of clothing deposited last night somewhere on the floor.
When I return to the bedroom, tears flow down Sutton’s sad face, and she’s trembling out of shock.
“Hey, Button. You’re okay.” I sit down on the bed next to her, cradling her in my open arms. “We’ll go back, but there’s nothing you can do in the meantime except let her know you’re coming, and you’re praying for her. Can you do that? Or do you want me to text her?”
She hands me the phone with quaking hands and runs to the bathroom and slams the door behind her, where I hear her sobbing in inconsolable grief.
Ah, shit. My poor Button.
And I understand what it’s like to be unable to take away someone else’s pain and agony from them.
I type out a brief text to Lucy on her phone and head toward the hallway, waiting for Sutton to wash up.
“Are you okay now?” I ask her through the bathroom door.
Her weak response tells me she’s lying. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Just give me a little bit.”
“Of course. I’ll be right here when you’re ready to go.”
I begin pacing the hallway and end up on the far end where Mel’s old room had been. The door is shut, probably not been opened for over a year. I’m not sure how often Granny had gone in there. For me, there’s still far too many memories and ghosts living in this room. But seeing as I have nothing but time to wait, I open the door and step in.
It’s been seven years since I’ve stepped foot into this room. How strange is that?
There are posters of bands I’ve never heard of on the wall, a desk in the corner with framed pictures and books, knick-knacks, and swimming trophies. I see three frames on the wall shelf, along with a wooden box decorated with painted flowers in yellow and pink.
