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“I’m sorry,” she mumbles and her warm breath flows over my skin.
Glancing down at her, I feel like the prick I am. “It’s not your fault,” I whisper in her hair and then plant a small kiss on her crown. She’s so warm in my arms, so small and fragile in so many ways. “I get it, Chlo, but I promise you it’s nothing.”
She stares deeply into my eyes for what feels like forever and I whisper against her lips, “It’s all right, just have faith in me.”
She kisses me tenderly, softly, and slowly, even though the pain and worry are still etched in her eyes.
“Come on, let me tell you a story.” My hand splays on her back as I lean out into the hallway to turn off the light and then take her to bed.
She crawls in slowly, climbing on top of the sheets before pulling them back and sitting cross-legged where she slept last night.
“My grandmom used to do this thing late at night when she’d come home from work.” I latch onto the first story I can think of, so I can occupy her thoughts with something else.
She leans forward slightly, waiting for more and eager to hear what I have to tell her. The way she looks at me with her beautiful blue eyes does something to me and I have to look away.
“Back when I was real little,” I say and swallow the lump growing in my throat, “I still remember it.”
I settle into the sheets next to her, kicking off my jeans first and flicking on the lamp to cast some light onto her face. When I get into bed, I slip off my watch and it clinks as I set it on the nightstand.
“I never met her,” Chloe Rose whispers as she lies down like I’m doing, getting closer to me, and letting me put my arm around her so she can rest her cheek on my chest. Just knowing I have her like this, knowing I can ease her fears and she trusts me… it’s everything.
“She worked real late, at least it was late for me.”
“Where’d she work?” Chlo asks as I remember how I used to wait up every night for her, but sometimes I couldn’t do it.
“At the diner past Walnut. She was a waitress up till the day she died.”
Chloe nods and her hair tickles against my chest when she does, but I love it. It brings a comfort that rolls through my chest and I reach up to let my fingers slip through her hair.
“So, I’d wait up every night I could and if I did, she always had something for me. She always had a little gift.” My words make Chloe perk up to look at me.
“Like what kind of gift?” She seems far too interested in that detail and it makes me smirk down at her with a huff of humor slipping through my lips.
That bright blush I love to see colors her expression and she finally looks like she might be getting over the text messages, thank fuck. “Sorry, I was just thinking you know how I’d like to get you something for being so nice to me,” she confesses and then lets her finger trace up my chest. “I don’t know what you like though.”
My chest rises as I shrug and say, “You don’t have to get me anything.”
“I’m fully aware that I don’t have to. That doesn’t change the fact Iwantto get you something.” She gives me a soft smile as she adds, “Thank you, by the way.”
“For what?”
“For this,” she tells me with that sadness and fear returning to her eyes. I can’t respond, knowing what I’m doing, but I don’t have to. She kisses my jaw and tells me, “Ignore me, keep going. I like hearing stories. Especially if they’re about you.”
“You sure you’re not going to interrupt as soon as I get going again?” I tease her and instantly feel her smile against my chest. That makes it all right. It makes it all right because she’s smiling now and that’s what matters.
“Time will tell,” is all she says, and I love it. I love all of her.
“So, my grandmom, she’d come home and put her purse down, and I’d get all excited.” I glance down at Chlo and get back to running my hand in her hair as I remember what it used to feel like. “I never slept in my room, always the living room so I could hear her when she got in.
“Every time she’d smile down at me, like me waiting up for her made her the happiest person in the world. And I really believed it too. She’d set everything down and come sit in the recliner, letting me sit on her lap and tell her everything that happened that day at school.”
It fucking hurts remembering the small pieces of it that come to me. Things I didn’t even know I remembered.
“She’d always have a candy for me. Always. Sometimes there’d be a toy too, something small. Like things you’d get in a piñata.”
Chloe hums a small acknowledgment and lifts her leg to lay over mine as she peeks up at me. I pull her in closer, loving that she’s letting me tell her this.
“I always thought that she would go get something for me before coming home, you know?” I clear my throat, remembering how some nights if I wasn’t able to stay up, I actually felt bad. She’d gone through that trouble of getting me something, and I couldn’t even stay up for her. I remember wondering if that was why mom left. Because I didn’t stay up for her.
