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“I heard you had a bad day. Baylee sent me a text message a couple of hours ago. I’m sorry.” She whimpered, kissing my neck softly.
“That’s okay, honey. Coming home to you makes everything better.” I said softly.
“I know,” she whimpered, coughed, and then settle back into my arms. “I love you.”
Then she passed out, and I was as high as a fucking kite.
CHAPTER 11
Sometimes being a bitch is all a woman has to hold onto.
-Adeline to Viddy
ADELINE
I woke at five in the morning six days later, finally able to breathe.
The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was Kettle’s tattooed back.
He was curled up on his side with his arms stretched up over the top of his head, and he didn’t look comfortable at all.
Smiling, I got up quietly and walked into the bathroom to get a quick shower that ended up lasting nearly half an hour.
However, it felt so good to finally be able to stand by myself that I got a little carried away.
When I got out, I dried off with my favorite towel that wrapped around me completely and turned off the light before exiting the bathroom.
Kettle was still asleep, only now he was on his stomach in the middle of the bed. It was almost as if he’d drifted over when he realized I was gone, and instead used my pillow as a substitute for my body.
Dressing quietly in sweat pants and Kettle’s fire department sweatshirt, I went out to the kitchen and had my first cup of coffee in nearly a week.
My sigh of bliss echoed in the empty alcove as I grabbed a blanket and walked out to the back porch. I took a seat on the lounge chair Kettle had set up for my viewing pleasure and sighed in happiness.
Pulling up the reading app on my phone, I read for nearly an hour before I heard the house beyond me starting to stir to life.
Kettle tapped on the window as he finally made it into the kitchen, causing me to look up and smile at him. When he waved his iPod at me and made the universal running sign, I held up my thumb in acquiesce and waved as he disappeared from sight.
I saw him twenty minutes later as he ran down the street that lined the back of our building, and of course, I had to whistle at him.
Putting my thumb and pointer finger in a C shape, I placed the two fingers in my mouth and whistled lewdly at him.
Raising his fist into the air, he gave a fist pump as he turned the corner at the top of our apartment complex.
Sadly, today he was covering up that beautiful body of his since it was nearly thirty degrees out.
I stood up and made my way to the front porch when I ran smack into the chest of the man that was standing at our door getting ready to knock.
“Oh,” I said rubbing my forehead. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were knocking. I was on the back porch. Can I help you?”
The man was older, mid-fifties or so, and in fairly good condition for his age. He was wearing a pair of black slacks with black shiny shoes, and a pale blue linen button down shirt. His hair was black with silver at the temples; the more I looked at him, the more I realized he looked a lot like someone I knew.
I couldn’t quite place whom, until I saw Kettle running through the parking lot only to come to a sudden screeching halt where my old apartment used to face.
Once I had the two of them in my field of vision, I knew instantly that they were related; most likely father and son.
Kettle didn’t talk about his family much at all, and when he did, it was about Shannon, his sister. I knew that Kettle and his parents had a falling out, but I didn’t know about what, and knew Kettle wouldn’t allow me to pry into this subject. He’d practically shut down for an hour after I’d asked about his father, and I made it a point to steer far away from that subject from then on.
Except now, I was wishing I knew what the hell to do. Did I slam the door in his face and call him an evil bastard? Did I invite me in? Did I yell and scream at him for abandoning his child?
