Calmly, Carefully, Completely(28)

“Good night,” I say.

He closes one eye and looks at me with the other for a moment. “Can I kiss you yet?” he asks.

I shake my head, and my insides do that quivery little dance again. “No,” I whisper. “I’m afraid not.”

He whispers again, “Can I keep asking?” He grins.

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t,” I admit. He smiles. This time, it’s not playful. I think it’s all Pete. It’s all swagger and confidence.

He turns to walk away, calling, “Good night, princess,” over his shoulder.

“’Night,” I toss back. I look up and see my dad glaring at me through the kitchen window. “Dad,” I gripe, as he opens the back door for me.

“Was that Pete?” he asks. Maggie goes to lie at his feet.

I nod. “That was Pete.”

He gnaws on his fingernail. “Should I be worried?” he asks.

I shake my head. “I don’t think so.”

“Okay,” he breathes, and he deflates like a relaxed balloon. He leans forward, pulling my head toward his with his beefy arm. “Good night,” he says, kissing my temple.

“Good night, Dad,” I say. He turns and goes upstairs. I look out the kitchen window at the first man I have ever truly wanted to kiss. But I can’t. I just can’t. I know this is going to end badly.





Reagan



Sometimes I wake up with the weight of my memories draped over me like a heavy, wet, woolen blanket. One that weighs me down and makes it impossible to get out of bed. But today, I blink my eyes open and there’s no sticky blood on my fingertips and my lashes aren’t matted together from waking up with screams trapped in my throat.

Today, I wake up…hopeful. I don’t even know if that’s the right word for it. It kind of feels like Christmas morning. The one you experience even after you know Santa’s not real, but you anticipate the warm and fuzzy feelings that come with the holiday. You rip open your presents and watch your parents exchange gifts that mean something to them. That’s how I’m feeling today. And I’m not completely sure I like it.

The girls were here for camp last month, and I didn’t feel this giddy because of them being here, so I don’t think it’s the camp that made me want to rush outside today. It’s Pete. And I’m pretty sure I’m not supposed to like him as much as I do.

In a perfect world, I could date him. But my world’s not perfect. And it hasn’t been for quite some time.

I get dressed and pull my hair into a ponytail. We’re going to be working with the horses today before it gets too hot. The boys love to take short rides around the paddock. Some of these kids have never been on a horse before.

I walk outside, and I can smell the aroma of bacon on the griddle. My dad tried hiring a catering service, but he really likes cooking for the kids, and it seems to work better when he throws some bacon on a skillet, scrambles eggs, and offers fruit, yogurt, milk, and cereal to everyone. There’s something for every kid, even with some of the boys’ bizarre dietary restrictions.

The men from the prison are acting as waiters right now, and they’re doing a good job at it. Pete’s working in the middle of two tables. He’s signing to some kids and joking with others. He’s really good with the adolescents. Gonzo says something to him, and I see Pete hold up his hand to block everyone else from seeing it as he shoots Gonzo the middle finger. Gonzo laughs, and I force myself to close my jaw.

Pete looks over and catches my eye. My heart trips a beat. “Morning, princess,” he says quietly, his voice lazy and uncomplicated. But that’s a lie. Everything about this man is complex. There’s nothing that’s not complicated about this man.