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I’d been lying awake in bed night after night worried sick thinking of Charlie being traumatized over moving if I decided to uproot him to come here. One gaming console later and it was all good? It was better than him crying, but I’d lost a hell of a lot of sleep for something with such an easy fix.
Kicks motioned Charlie over to the second door in the suite. “This is going to be your bedroom. We can work on making it feel more like yours tomorrow.”
“Anything I want?” Charlie asked, yawning as he walked to the doorway, looking inside.
“Within reason. Piper has to be okay with it, and it can’t kill you.” Kicks leaned on the door, watching Charlie and being so patient with him that it was hard to imagine this was the wrong move.
Except when he eventually decided to go back to Arkansas, with us in tow.
I had to stop thinking. I’d worry about it as it came. That was all I had the energy for.
I got to my feet, eyeing Charlie’s room as a short sanctuary. “Charlie, why don’t you get ready for bed, okay? I’ll help you get settled in.”
“Do I have to?” he asked, and then yawned again.
“Yeah,” I said, ushering him into the room.
“Pips?” Kicks said.
I glanced back at him.
“Don’t overthink it.”
“Sure,” I said, trying to act as cool as him as I shut Charlie’s door.
What did he mean? Don’t overthink being with him, or don’t overthink the situation? Didn’t he realize by saying that, he’d doomed me to overthink? Didn’t he know me at all by this point?
Someone had brought in some basic supplies, and I fumbled through getting Charlie ready for bed, all the while continuing to overthink things.
Charlie’s eyes closed minutes after he hit the bed, but I waited just to make sure.
He was in a new room, a new bed. It had nothing to do with stalling. Zero connection.
I walked back into the sitting room with no idea what was to come.
“Do you want a drink?” Kicks asked, walking across the room toward the side bar.
“Sure.”
“Bourbon?”
“Whatever you’ve got.” I took a seat on the couch, trying not to fidget.
I’d never been a drinker, but the urge was growing as my situation declined.
He walked back over with two glasses, handing me one and settling onto the other half of the couch with his. He leaned back,sipping his drink, seeming utterly at ease. Did anything put him on edge, or did he not have that in his makeup?
“We should probably get some details out of the way,” he said.
“What details did you want to discuss?” Before he could answer, I downed the bourbon.
“Would you like another before I answer?”
I did, but I still had a kid to worry about.
Kicks must have sensed my desire, because he got up and poured me another glass anyway. “No one is getting in here. You don’t have to worry.”
Screw it.I took the glass but then sipped the refill, trying to show some restraint.
