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“Bad things. Just… let go.” My breathing is all weird, my voice a croak.
He just stares at me. “I promise you nothing bad will happen. The kitchen floor is so clean I see my reflection in it, and we’re fine, West. We’ll be fine. I don’t know what flipped your switch today, but burning your hand and knees with bleach and spending the night on the floor won’t fix anything.”
I’m shaking hard now. Breaking the ritual terrifies me. My tired mind is spinning in endless loops, freezing my limbs, caging me.
“I need to finish here.” I’m fucking desperate for the reprieve I’ll get when I finish cleaning. Although lately even that doesn’t help. “I need to clean—”
“Look, I’ve got you.” He tugs on my hands. “Everything will be fine, I promise.”
“Kash is gone.” I have to swallow past the knot in my throat—a knot of fear, a knot of panic. “My family is gone. I cause bad things.”
“Bullshit, dude. You cause good things.” The fierceness of the words catches me by surprise.
I’m staring at him when Sydney comes in. “Nate? What’s going on? West?”
“Come on, bed.” Nate drags me upright, and then Sydney drapes herself at my side, and I let them, the combination of her scent and his strength calming me down. “We’ll talk more about this tomorrow.”
But what the hell is there to say?
My thoughts are in a rut, running over the same over and over—need to clean, need to wash, need to fix or bad things will happen.
Bad things, fucking bad things.
So I don’t expect to sleep tonight—well, what’s left of tonight. My teeth are chattering, my hands shaking, my mouth tastes like metal and the thought of talking to Nate and Syd about why I need to do this, why I’m such a mess today, and always… it makes me wanna puke.
But they don’t ask anything. They drag me to bed, take off my shoes, my clothes, run their fingers through my hair, glide them over my skin, and though at first I can barely stand it and flinch away, I start to relax in degrees.
They are safety, home, peace. Good things. They are the best things in my life.
They put me between them, Nate at my back and Sydney pressed to my chest, and next thing I know, sunlight is streaking through the window and it’s morning.
Sydney comes to me as I brew coffee strong enough to wake the dead and throws her arms around me. “Love you, West,” she whispers, squeezing me against her soft tits, her face buried in my chest, and drags a smile out of me, because yeah, my girl loves me.
The best. She’s the best.
She leaves for work, distracted and saying she has to run some errands, and I’m left alone to finish the coffee and drink it in an attempt to clear my mi
nd.
I don’t see Nate as we both hurry to get ready for work, but I should know he’s like a dog with a bone and won’t let last night slide. Won’t let me slide.
Which is good.
And bad, because hell, I sort of knew one day I’d have to come clean and tell him everything, but I also thought I had more time.
Time to confess, or time to leave and spare them the goddamn mess that is Weston Black.
My new morning job is at a music store. It’s a quiet morning and yet it goes by in a blur. Then I’m heading to my afternoon job at the burger joint, practically dragging my feet, the long night catching up with me.
By the end of my shift I’m kinda sleepwalking, so when I see Nate outside, I rub at my eyes and tell myself to wake up.
He’s there, though, waiting for me to finish, grab my jacket and go. My breathing goes choppy under his scrutiny. I shove my hands in my pant pockets and walk beside him to the bus stop.
“So…” Nate eyes me sidelong as we approach the stop. “I said we’d talk.”
Yeah.
Dammit.
