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Chapter 9
Faye
“They’re watching the Lego movie,” I tell Thane as I walk out into the garage.
“Again?” he asks, from the top of the ladder installing my new garage door opener.
“Yup, I don’t know how they can do that.”
“What?”
“Watch the same thing over and over again.”
“Didn’t you used to do that when you were a kid?” he asks me.
“No, we didn’t have TV, and my parents were super strict about that sort of stuff.”
“So what did you do with your time?”
“Just played outside with the other kids in the neighborhood.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” He seems surprised, but when I was growing up, we were outside from sunup ‘til sundown.
“My parents were totally different. They’re both free birds—we traveled a lot, and when we were home, we did whatever we wanted to,” he says.
“So you have siblings?” I ask him.
“One brother, you?”
“No. I’m an only child. Do you want more kids?” I ask him for some strange reason, and quickly he answers, “Sure, why not. Don’t you?”
“Oh, I don’t think so. I’m damaged enough, and just trying to keep my shit together for Braxley is next to impossible. I couldn’t imagine having a baby to take care of.”
“You’re not damaged, Faye,” he tells me, looking over his shoulder as he climbs down the ladder.
“Sure, I’m not.” I roll my eyes, pushing away the negative thoughts that creep into my head. He can say whatever he wants, but I’m a twenty-nine-year-old widow.
He takes a sip of his beer and says to me, “Faye, I don’t think you realize just how strong of a woman you are. I was thinking about it the other day, if I’d been through a quarter of the shit you have, I’d honestly be in a mental institution.”
“Thanks for saying that, but trust me, some days a straitjacket sounds better than just opening my eyes.”
“Hey, at least it’s only some days,” he teases me, and I raise my glass to him, then sip my wine. “Wanna do the honors?” he asks, pointing to the wall.
Reaching high above my head from the step I’m sitting on, I press the button on the wall. His eyes are on my body, electrifying my insides. The motor works quietly, and for the first time in days, my garage door opens. “You fixed it!” I cheer, and Thane gives me a satisfied nod.
“Well, that only took, what…a week?” he grumbles.
“Hey, it’s fixed. I’m not complaining one bit,” I tell him. “Thank you so much.”
“Of course.” He hands me the new portable opener from his pocket and says, “This should work too.”
I press the button on the remote he gave me to close the door and stop the cold air from rushing in. “So you gonna give me that painting now?” he asks, and I can’t believe he still wants it, but a deal is a deal.
As we go back into the house, the warm air is soothing. I can hear the boys laughing at the movie from Braxley’s room, the noise so settling to me.
“You really want it?”
