For You (The 'Burg #1)(19)

“Feb, look at me, look at your Momma.”

I didn’t look at her, I asked, “What is it about me?”

“Honey, look at me.”

I shook my head. “I don’t understand.”

Her hand came to my cheek and she tried to force me to look at her but I fought it, holding my neck still, clenching my teeth, staring at the wall.

“Honey –”

“Who’s next?”

“February, you’re scaring me,” Mom said. “I need you to look at me.”

Before I could do anything, even before I knew if I would, hands were under my armpits and I was hauled to my feet, pulled out of the stall, seeing my Mom on her knees by the toilet, her head tipped back, her eyes on some point over my shoulder, some spot higher than me.

I twisted my neck and tilted my head back too and saw Alec had hold of me.

“We need assistance here?” Sully asked, his voice nasally but the authority was still there.

I’d only ever heard that kind of authority from a cop. Teachers had a different kind. My Dad, an even different kind. Mom, even different. Teachers, Dads and Moms, sometimes you listened, sometimes you didn’t. But somehow you always listened to a cop.

“Maybe she needs to talk to someone,” Mom said, getting up slowly but I didn’t see her get to her feet.

I was jostled, brought around face to face with Alec.

“You need to talk to someone?” he asked, his body bent, his face in mine and I didn’t know what his question was about so I didn’t answer.

“Maybe she needs something to help her rest.” This suggestion came from Morrie. “She doesn’t sleep too good. Maybe we should take her to see Doc.”

“You need something to help you rest?” Alec asked like Morrie was in another room talking to Alec in an earpiece and I couldn’t hear my brother.

I didn’t answer. I just stared at Alec, stared straight into his weird but beautiful gold-brown eyes.

His hands, both of them, came to the sides of my head. His palms, so big, so warm, were at my cheeks. His fingers, so long, so strong, were covering my hair. His face, a face I’d known as a boy and I’d watched grow into a man, was all I could see.

“February, talk to me.”

I did.

But, “Alec,” was all I could get out.

Then I fell forward and did a face plant in his chest. I grabbed onto his blazer and held on.

And for the second time in two days, I cried (essentially) in Alec’s arms.

I heard Alec’s phone ring but he didn’t go for it. With my face plant, his fingers had slid through my hair and both his hands stayed where they were, curling around the back of my head, holding me to his chest.

I knew I should move away, I knew distance was paramount but I couldn’t. I was like a leech, latched onto him but instead of sucking blood, I was sucking strength.

I couldn’t talk about Pete, not even now, not with anyone, especially not with Alec. But I wanted him to know I wasn’t crying for Pete, I was just crying about Pete. No one deserved that, even though he was a dick, not even Pete.

But I couldn’t tell Alec that, or anyone.

My crying stopped but I still held onto his jacket, my face in his chest, now because I was hiding.

Alec heard the tears subside and I felt pressure at his fingertips against my scalp.

“Can you talk to me now?”

I pulled away from his hands, let him go and stepped back.

We were alone in the bathroom.

I drew in a shaky breath and straightened my spine. Then I looked at him.

“I think seeing Doc would be good. Morrie’s right, I don’t sleep great.”

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why don’t you sleep great?”

I felt my head jerk and answered, “Because Tuesday’s bed’s small.”

He shook his head. “You get up at seven o’clock when you don’t need to, you gotta get home after three. You get three, four hours a sleep at night. That isn’t good. Why don’t you sleep?”

“I don’t know. I’ve been workin’ bars all my life, that’s the way it’s always been.”

“No it isn’t.”

My midsection moved back like he punched me in the stomach.

He knew how I used to sleep. He’d slept over lots when we were kids. When we were teenagers all of us slept too late in the morning. It drove Mom wild but that’s the way teenagers were. When he was at Purdue and Morrie would sneak me up there to spend the weekend with him, I’d sleep with him in his tiny bed in his dorm room, hiding from the RAs. We’d sleep in late and his roommate would scope out the bathroom, call the all-clear to Alec and he’d sneak me down when it was empty. Or when he’d moved to that apartment, he had three roommates but he commandeered the top floor, the attic room with the little three-quarter bathroom in the corner. The bed was a double in that room, much better. It had a desk, lots of floor space. I loved that room, I could pretend it was our place, our world and I did. That bed was perfect, just enough space so we weren’t cramped, not enough that we didn’t have to sleep close.

I used to sleep great, he knew that.

I used to sleep the sleep of someone who knew she was loved.

Now, I didn’t.

“Feb, answer me.”