See How She Runs (The Chronicles of Izzy #1)(21)
“You will get used to it, I promise. Did you finish reading your mom’s letters? Maybe there is something in there that could help?”
“Nope, only got through the one. Honestly, I don’t know if I have it in me to deal with anything else today. When I opened the first, I had a weird vision of her right before she wrote it. Then with what just happened, I feel like my brain has been liquefied. Am I allowed to take medicine, or does that mess with the mojo?" I asked in earnest, hoping to bring some relief to my now throbbing head.
“Go lie on the couch and I will bring you something." He stood to rummage through some of the cabinets.
As I stood, my legs betrayed me. Quicker than I could track, Kennan was there once again, scooping me up in his arms. I guessed I should argue with the whole caveman routine, but seeing as my legs decided to go on vacation, I was not going to complain. He gently lay me on the couch before returning to his search. A few seconds later I heard, “Victory.”
“Here you go, Red," he said, handing me two pills. “Why don’t we call it a day and just relax for a while? We can watch one of your movies if you want?”
I swallowed the pills praying for relief. I did not even question what they were. At this point he could be tranquilizing me and I would not care. This, as it turned out, was in the running for the worst birthday ever. It was up there with my parents dying days before my ninth birthday, or my Grams dying a little over a week beforehand. Between the bad guys, the kidnapping, the visions, and the unending supply of tears, I was willing to call it a day.
“So, what will it be, birthday girl?" Kennan asked, obviously trying to cheer me up and take my mind off of my suddenly derailed life.
“I am thinking it is a Jane Eyre sort of a night. It seems appropriate for the sort of day I am having." I leaned back on the pillows finally feeling some relief.
As I nestled into the couch and made myself comfy under my mother’s quilt, Kennan set the tablet up so that we could watch the movie. After getting everything situated, he came and lifted my head up, sliding underneath to become my pillow. He started gently stroking my hair once again, and I was struck by the gentleness of something so rough and large. He bent his massive frame over and kissed me on my forehead like a thousand times before, but this time he lingered, turning it into something full of unspoken promises.
“Happy birthday, Red," he whispered, as I started to go fuzzy around the edges. My last thought was that those pills were made of magic.
**********
I awoke with a start and blushed violently. No longer was Kennan my pillow. I heard him in the kitchen moving about. Thanking God for the time to compose myself, and praying to anyone listening he had not witnessed my dreams. He had just been the leading man in a very graphic and detailed dream that was anything but G rated.
I looked around the cabin trying to figure out what time it was. Outside was not much help, the constant drizzle made the sun an ineffective indicator. I looked at the clock and noticed it was around four in the afternoon. Still dazed, but grateful for the reprieve of the medicine and the time spent unconscious, I decided to shake it all off and start moving forward. No more tears, no more pity parties. Not even if there were an imaginary pi?ata. I threw the best pity parties. Onward and upward. Or wherever we were going.
“Don’t think that you got out of watching the movie, Kennan. It totally does not count if I was asleep for the whole thing," I said groggily as I wrapped the blanket around my shoulders and trudged over to the table.
I decided to just ignore the dream and pretend it never happened. Repression would be the key to my sanity it seemed. I was sure it would all come back to bite me in my hindquarters soon, but for now it was working.
“I said one movie, it is not my fault you slept through the whole thing, Homey," he said, taking something out of the oven.
“I thought we had discussed your lack of gangster already. Do I need to put up the intervention banner again, Kennan?” I deadpanned. “I am concerned that you are not aware of how awkward it sounds when you use phrases like 'Homey' or 'G'."
He looked over his shoulder at me and stuck out his tongue. A sight to see on an over six foot, tattooed, mountain man. A very yummy mountain man. Alright, and moving on.
Repress, repress, repress. That should be my mantra.
“Fine, oh Izzy, the glorious. See if I ice this for you when it cools off. Birthday or not, you can’t be knockin’ my slang."
I peered around him and noticed that it was a cake that he had taken out of the oven. More importantly, a strawberry cake. My absolute favorite. I was not above begging or groveling, especially when cake was involved. This birthday was starting to look up.
I put on my best groveling tone and even threw in some sad eyes.
“Oh mighty K.O., purveyor of delicious baked treats, I apologize profusely for my inability to comprehend the extent of your street cred. Please forgive me, and maybe ice that cake as a show of your forgiveness?" I smiled hugely, hoping that I did not look too desperate for the cake.
“Your giant eyes of sadness don’t fool me woman, you just want the cake. I have lived with you long enough to know better than to deny you baked goods."
He snickered before flipping the cake out of the pan. It seemed being around for a few hundred years had taught him to cook well.