“Did you go out back and smoke weed with my brother?”
I try to act surprised, but honestly, nothing between the two of them surprises me.
“Maybe.”
A lazy grin covers his face, one that’s been pulled so tightly the past few months with all his new responsibilities. The sheepish look makes him appear to be many years younger than what he is, reminiscent of high-school Dalton.
“I can’t believe you.”
He wraps his arms around me, picking me up and spinning us around. “Yes you can. C’mon.”
I have no idea where he’s taking me, but I put my hand in his and let him lead. Somehow I know he’ll never lead me astray. We end up out back, on the porch.
“You wanna be a bad girl tonight?” He chuckles, leaning against the post holding up the roof.
“Depends on what you mean.” I strut to him, pushing my arms around his waist, up under his cut.
The smell of leather and tobacco are my favorite.
The smell of leather and tobacco coming from him? It’s a major fucking turn on.
He holds up a small blunt. “You want?”
“You know I don’t do it well.” I roll my eyes.
“I’ll do it for you,” he whispers, his gaze straying to my lips.
“Okay.” I grip my fingers in his shirt, digging my nails in into his skin.
He pulls back slightly to lift an arm over my head, so he can light it. I hear him inhale deeply, and that’s when I tilt my mouth up to his.
His lips connect with mine, and he gently blows the smoke from him to me. When I accept it, he takes the opportunity to end the forbidden move in a kiss, his tongue lightly tangling before he pulls away.
“Feel good?”
His voice is intoxicating, almost as intoxicating as the alcohol and the darkness of the night surrounding us.
“Anything with you feels amazing, D. Anything.”
He and I haven’t been like that together in what feels like years. It makes me miss him, and the act of loving him. Our final night under the stars was less than perfect. Mostly because of me, but we could argue that we both have fault in the way we’ve treated each other over the past few months.
Not gonna lie, babe. I jacked off. Still didn’t feel as good as you. Nothing ever will.
But you know what I’m realizing I miss more than anything? Those cozy Sundays where we quietly talked in bed before Walker got up. Sometimes we’d turn on stupid TV and just be with one another.
I want that.
To be with you.
I truly feel like we can have what we’ve always thought has been out of our reach. I love you, I love our family, and we’re gonna make it through this.
I promise.
Love,
Dalton
Everything makes me cry these days, especially when it comes to him, and this is no exception. Tears drop onto the page, streaking across his masculine scratch, making the pen bleed.
Before all of this, I would have freaked out and panicked because something wasn’t perfect. Now I find the beauty in the flawed.
Spreading the paper out as flat as I can, I get up off the bed and walk it over to my dresser, sticking it into the edge of the mirror. It’s something I haven’t done since I was a teenager. Back then they had been notes from Dalton too. Pledges of love and how we were going to break our familial chains.
So far we haven’t done great, but we’re definitely on the right path.
“Do you want to get pregnant again?”
We’re in another group counseling session and we’re all asking each other questions.
The hard ones.
Ones that none of us really want to answer.
They’re going to be normal once we leave here. It’s human nature for people to be inquisitive and we have to be able to process the hard shit.
Not being able to process it is what got me here in the first place.
The question hits me right in the chest and I’m suddenly very glad it was asked here and not in front of my family.
“I’m scared to get pregnant again,” I admit.
I haven’t spoken those words to anyone besides myself yet.
“Why are you scared?” the counselor doing this session asks, crossing his ankle over his knee.
“What if it happens again? I lose another baby? I’m not sure I can handle it.” I instinctively run my fingers through my hair. “A rainbow baby is good in theory, but I’m way more worried about my mental health now.” I shrug. “It’ll have to be something my husband and I talk about. The situation obviously affects both of us, and it’ll have to be the right thing for our family. I can no longer make decisions based on how they’ll work for me and my life. It’s time to make decisions based on what’s best for the people around me too.”
The counselor smiles at me. “You saying you need to talk to your husband about it shows just how far you’ve come, Mandy. Do you realize when you first got here, you weren’t even willing to let people in? You didn’t even give them the option of talking to you about it. You’re doing amazing, I’m so proud of you.”
“Thank you.” I fold my hands in my lap, beaming at the praise. I don’t think I ever realized how badly I need positive affirmations.
As we go around the room, I hear other people talking about their pain and it’s hard not to become involved in their stories.
“That’s how I got this,” one of the new guys says, pointing to a cast on his arm. He’s hidden behind shoulder-length dark hair, and I wonder what his face looks like. “I thought it would be funny to hop on the back of my motorcycle after drinking a whole fifth of Jack. Turns out it wasn’t funny.”
The fact he rides a motorcycle interests me. There aren’t many people I’ve come to know outside
