AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Needless to say, after days of living like a feral animal, my bedroom is no longer gleaming and organized. It looks more like a dorm room now. Food packages line the dresser and the night stand. The few times I've managed to muster up the energy to change my clothes, they haven't made it to the hamper. I don't even bother opening the blinds. I don't need the reminder of a bright, sunshiny world beyond my window. It's like Mother Nature herself wants to rub it in.
When my phone buzzes, I have to work my way out from under the cocoon I've wrapped myself in. At Corey's insistence, I've stopped ignoring the messages that come in, but that doesn't mean I have to be super receptive toward them. I am not feeling social, let's just put it that way.
Doesn’t matter. The message that just came through leaves no room for argument.
Ash: I'm coming over and I'm bringing soup. Either the door is unlocked, or I kick it in. Your choice.
If only I thought he were joking, but I know better. That's why I haul myself out of bed, grumbling, but also gathering trash from around the room and taking it downstairs to be thrown out. He clearly knows I'm a total wreck. I don't need him staging an intervention once he sees the disaster I have become. After unlocking the door so he doesn't do anything rash, I head back upstairs and drag a brush through my hair before putting it back in a messy bun. At least it's not tangled. I then wash my face and brush my teeth and even change my shirt before gathering theclothes from around the floor and shoving them in the hamper. That's as human as it's going to get today. I hope he doesn't mind.
Then again, I didn't ask him to come over, did I?
I’ve settled in with a new documentary by the time I hear the front door open and close. “Harlow?” I can't pretend hearing his voice isn't comforting. The fact that he went out of his way to come over threatens to make me teary eyed, but then a lot of things have made me teary eyed lately.
“Bedroom!” I call out. Moments later I hear his footsteps on the stairs, and soon he's standing in the doorway holding a plastic shopping bag in one hand and a bouquet of colorful gerbera daisies in the other.
“I thought you might need a little cheering up.” His sheepish grin makes me smile. I’ve missed him.
“Come on in. Thank you for coming over. I appreciate you checking on me.”
I mean every word of it, but that doesn't stop him from frowning as he approaches the bed. “Do you want your soup now?” I nod, holding out my hands, and I'm glad to find a plastic spoon and fork included.
“When did I ever tell you how much I love pho?”
“You didn't. But it always makes me feel better.” He frowns again. “I should have asked if you like it or not, I guess.”
“I love it.” There's a Styrofoam container included along with the fragrant broth, and I get to work adding the chicken and noodles, sliced jalapeno and basil inside.
“What are you watching?” He takes off his jacket, then sits on the other side of the bed.
“A documentary about a serial killer from back in the eighties.”
“Glad to see you're trying to stay cheerful.”
“I've been alternating true crime with Hallmark movies. Would you rather I put one of them on for you?”
“No, thanks. I'm good with serial killers. So I have to ask.” He looks around the room, frowning like he's concerned, and part of me wants to describe the way it looked just fifteen minutes ago. He thinks this is bad? He has no idea. “How long are you going to shut yourself up like this? It's not healthy.”
And he's the one to talk to me about what is and isn't healthy? I'm sure he couldn't have been Mr. Personality when he was working his way through recovering from his injury. He's barely Mr. Personality now. “I don't know what you want from me. My life is ruined. I don't know what to do next.”
“You haven't even come back to clean out your office.”
“I know that.”
“It's not like I blame you or anything. I wouldn't want to make that move, either. That would mean everything is actually over.”
“See? You get it.”
“But you can't live in limbo for the rest of your life.”
“What do you suggest, Doctor?”
I have to give him credit. He's doing a lot better with staying calm instead of lashing out right away. “For starters, you can try to talk to the coach.”
“Sure, and when I'm finished with that, I'll try pulling my own teeth instead of going to a dentist.”
He lowers his brow, scowling. “Harlow.”
“Ash. It's easy for you to say.”
