Page 3 of Dean (Unexpected #9)

CHAPTER THREE

AVERY

I’m mostly a good roommate. I might have had to wash my sheets last night because I came in my sleep, like a teen boy who just discovered what lust was. So I may run up the water bill, but fuck. I didn’t mean to.

“You okay?” Dean asks when he finds me in the kitchen cooking breakfast. He must have noticed my stripped bed and the running laundry machine.

I’m wearing my pajama pants, a crop top, and my UGG boots. My hair is a mess, still mostly braided from Dean’s job last night, but falling out near my temples. I’m loath to take it out. I want to leave my hair like this forever.

“Yep! Just love fresh sheets,” I lie as I scramble the eggs. “I can totally split the bills with you while I’m here. But anyway, I’m making breakfast. You like toast?”

“I don’t really eat breakfast,” he says as he moves to the coffeepot and turns it on. “And you’re not splitting the bills with me.”

I ignore that last comment. “With the amount of work you do, you need to eat breakfast, Dean. ”

He peers over at me and then grabs the bag of coffee grounds from above me. His arm knocks into me, and I shiver slightly from his touch.

This. Right here is why I’m doing laundry at six a.m. His body against mine.

He’s also not wearing a shirt.

Which is detrimental.

But I soldier on like the warrior I am. I will win this fight. I will go down in history as the bravest gay.

“I guess I could try some. It does smell good.”

“It is good. I’m a wonderful cook. Been doing this since I was young.”

“Yeah? Why?”

He leans against the counter as the coffee machine sputters out some java.

“You know…neglectful parents, self-preservation. Mostly, I just wanted to eat and not starve.”

His eyebrows rise, and I wave it off. “No feeling sorry for me, Dean. I’m fine. I’m stronger because of it and an excellent cook.”

I hold up a forkful of eggs to his lips and he leans forward and takes a bite. His eyelids flutter and he sighs.

“Yeah, that’s good.”

“Told ya.”

I scoop some up on a plate just as the toast pops up, and I set it on his plate.

“There you go.”

He takes his coffee and the plate before sitting down at the kitchen table. He eats slowly, almost as if waiting for me to take my seat as well. Which I do. I have my tea and I sip on it while I eat like a lady. I refuse to stuff my face all the time when he’s around.

I think of my sister and the way she’d roll her eyes at me as she got older.

“ God, you’re so embarrassing, Avery. Can you like not? ”

I’d just grin at her and roll my eyes, stuffing my face even further. Fuck, I need to call her.

“What are you thinking about?” Dean asks .

“Who says I’m thinking?”

“I can tell by the way you bite your bottom lip.”

My god, stop noticing things about me. I can’t cope.

“I was just thinking about my little sister. I need to call her.”

Dean arches an eyebrow. “Didn’t know you had a sister.”

“I do. We don’t talk much…for reasons, but I hope in a few years we can really reconnect.”

When my parents no longer have their claws in her, and she can finally get away.

“Do they live close?”

“Up in Northern California.”

“Hm, we could drive up there sometime, visit if you want.”

“Oh, Dean, I would if I could. But it’s not a good idea.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that, but he lets it go. I guess there isn’t really anything to say. She’s under eighteen, and I really have no say in her life until she can escape. It’s a sad reality, but our reality nonetheless.

We continue to eat, chatting about the day ahead and leaving the heavy stuff behind us, and when we’re done, Dean insists on doing the dishes while I get ready for work.

And I do it quickly, washing my face and putting on a pair of oversized jeans and a crop top. One that shows off my slim waist. It’s not what I’d usually wear, but it’s trying something. Seeing how far I can push things.

Will anyone say anything? Will they stare?

I don’t know. But I want to find out. For some reason, I want to know.

Squaring my shoulders, I walk down the small hallway, meeting Dean by the front door.

“I can drive you,” he says, his eyes slipping down to my waist before popping back up to my eyes. “Your car is still at the garage. I didn’t realize that until just now.”

“Oh, I wasn’t worried. I was planning on taking your motorcycle to work.”

He arches an eyebrow at me and then nudges me slightly. “Fuck off, Avery. ”

“No can do, Boss.”

I waggle my eyebrows at him, and he strides out of the house with a smile, locking the door behind me before pausing. “Shit. You need a key.”

“It’s not a problem.”

“Yeah. But I have an extra one. Hold on.” He unlocks the door, moves inside, and then returns with a key in his hand. “Here.”

He sets it in my palm and my heart pitter-patters. It’s almost like he’s asking me to move in with him, which is silly. I know. But god, I’d love that. I’ve even imagined it. But I know what this is. We’re roommates. Platonic. Even if he did touch my cheek last night and braid my hair. It means nothing.

I need to get whatever thing I have growing in my head out of it.

I need to behave.

I won’t be here long enough anyway.

“All right. Well, thank you. Now drive me to work, you fool!” I hold up my fist, like some kind of Roman ruler making a declaration, and Dean just huffs a small laugh.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah. I know. But still. We don’t want to be late.”

“Bossy?”

“The bossiest of bitches. Remember that, Dean. I warned you and you invited me to stay here anyway.”

He opens the car door for me and I slide inside, trying like hell not to swoon. I refuse. This is not romantic. He’s just a gentleman. It’s ingrained in him.

And he’s my boss. And my roommate.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks as he drives us toward work. “You look very serious.”

“You staring at me, Dean? Seem to be doing that a lot.”

He flushes and shrugs. “Might have been.”

Well, what does that mean? Do not overthink this. Do not go there, Avery.

“Just thinking about work and all the stuff I have to do. You have a real mess on your hands. I need to whip that place into shape.”

“You already have. It’s orderly now. ”

“Sure is. Poor Ben. Poor me. We deserve raises.”

“I’ll take it up with the board.”

I snort at that and then turn slightly so I can look at him, and look at him I do. He’s wearing torn jeans and a tight gray shirt that sticks to his skin. All that glorious tattooed skin.

This is really becoming a problem.

“I know you told me you got into this business with Ford and Cash, but like, really, what made you want to start working on cars? I don’t think I’ve ever asked you that.”

He shrugs. “Don’t know. Just was always good at it. Spent a lot of time in my uncle’s garage working on shit when I was bored in the summers. Read a lot of books on it too. And when I met Cash and Ford, it just worked. We kind of had an idea one day and ran with it. It wasn’t all easy at first. We had a lot to learn about running a business, but here we are. Doing things we couldn’t imagine we’d be doing. And doing it fucking well.”

“So, going back to doing things you couldn’t imagine you’d be doing…do you mean like working for the mafia?”

Dean makes a face. “I’m not working for them. Anthony Costello just asked for a car. A nice one. A very gangster one.”

“Yeah, and how’s that coming along?”

“It’s coming.”

He grins at me, and I roll my eyes, facing forward once more. And just in time too. Dean pulls into the parking lot near the shop, and I hop out before he can round the car and open my door. With a flick of my wrist, I grab my bag, tucking the key he just gave me inside.

“All right, Boss-man. I’m off to work. If you need me, you know where to find me.”

He grunts and watches me walk toward the garage.

“Hey there,” I say, greeting Ford and Cash, and they eye my exposed waist briefly before turning away, seemingly not at all bothered by my outfit. Huh. Seems it wasn’t an issue after all. Although, the shirt is very minor. It’s nothing wild and out there. Perhaps I’ll push the boundaries a little later. See what I can get away with.

I trudge up the stairs and into the office that I’ve organized, cleaned, and made habitable since I was hired. I do a quick intake of everything and realize all is as it should be. Should I turn on my phone and see if Nick responded? Probably not, but I do it anyway.

Nothing greets me when the screen loads, so maybe he took my threat to heart. Maybe he’s just going to leave me alone. Or maybe it wasn’t him at all. Maybe it was some unsuspecting fool who’s now afraid the police will be called on them.

I’ll never know, hopefully.

With a sigh of relief, I pull out the chair and sit down at the computer, turning it on. The fan whirs and I hear the phone ring. Right on the dot.

I pick it up.

“Wrench Wreckers,” I say and then roll my eyes. Stupid assholes were probably drunk when they came up with that name.

“Hi.” A throat clears and then a sigh. “I was wondering if you specialized in off-road vehicles.”

“Oh, you know, I’m not sure. What do you have in mind and I can go ask?”

“I was thinking like a thing with bars around it.”

“Oh, you mean like roll bars?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“So like a dune buggy, right?”

“I think so. I don’t know. Just something that rolls, but does it safely.”

“Right,” I say with a small smile. “Let me ask my bosses.”

“Thank you.”

I put him on hold and walk out, shouting down to the guys chatting in front of a car that’s disassembled, the engine lying on the floor as they all stare down at it.

“Oi!”

All three heads look up at me. It’s like I have some kind of superpower.

“Do you guys work on dune buggies? Something with roll cages?”

“Fuck yeah,” Ford says and then grins at me. “We do anything. We’re jacks of all trades.”

“We’re really not,” Cash replies, but Dean gives a subtle nod, and I have my answer. Of course they won’t say no to this. It’s a challenge, something exciting. Something different.

I move back to the office and pick up the phone.

“Yeah, they can do that.”

“Oh good. Can I come by and discuss what I’d like? I don’t have a lot of money, but I really need him safe. Can I do a payment plan?”

“Yeah, sure. I know they do that. Can I get your name? Let them know to expect you?”

“So I can just show up anytime?”

“Yep, anytime during business hours. Someone will be here to help.”

“Okay, right. My name is Whit.”

“Whit. Awesome. I’ll let them know. They look forward to working with you.”

“Right. Okay. Thank you.”

We’re stuck in an awkward silence for a moment before he hangs up.

“All righty then,” I murmur and then pull up the schedule. No rest for the wicked , I think as I pull up a playlist on my phone and get to work.

When it’s finally time to leave, I breathe a sigh of relief. It’s been a long day, full of paperwork, people calling and one disgruntled customer who came in to personally speak with the owner.

I didn’t like her. Not at all.

She was far too pretty and stared at Dean. Intensely.

He might have flirted back as well. It made my stomach drop and my fingers clench.

It has put me in a mood all damn day. I’ve been the grumpiest of bitches.

“You ready to head home?” Dean asks, and I purse my lips and stare at him.

“I am. But I can meet you there.”

His head cocks, confusion slipping across his features .

“And why is that?”

My hands move to my hips. “Dean, I saw that woman ask you out for drinks earlier. You don’t need to turn her down because I’m your roommate now. Plus, I have my car. I need to drive it home.”

His cheeks redden and he glances away for a second. “Yeah, but I don’t want to go out with her, to be honest. The thought of making small talk exhausts me.”

My chest expands, my heart blooming. All that jealousy dissipates. He’d rather hang out with me. At home.

Our home.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh . I’m tired and old, and I just want to go home, have a beer, and hang out with you. If you want to hang out with an old man, that is.”

“I mean, I guess I could. My standards are pretty low.”

He huffs a laugh. “I never committed to going out, anyway. She won’t be expecting me. What are you thinking for dinner?” Just as he says that his stomach rumbles.

“I was thinking salmon with rice and broccoli.”

“How about we make that teriyaki salmon with no broccoli and I’ll say it’s a deal?”

“Fine. I can do that. I do know how to make a mean teriyaki, but I need to swing by the store first.”

“I can do that for you. Just give me a list and I can grab it.”

“All right. If you say so. I can go home and get everything prepped.”

He rolls his lips between his teeth and eyes me. Something moves across his face, but it disappears before I can decipher it.

“See you in a bit.”

I nod and grab my keys, nearly skipping out of the garage in excitement and driving home. I feel silly for being so annoyed earlier, but alas, I’m young and dumb. I can’t help it.

When I step inside the house, setting my bag down near the entrance, I get a call from Dean and I huff a small laugh.

“You can’t find what I asked for, right?”

“I know I’m supposed to know this shit, but I’ve never been down this aisle. And there is a shit-ton of soy sauce but I can’t find the mirin. Never even heard of that before.”

I bite back a smile as I move to the kitchen. “I’ll send you a picture and you can compare. Just hold on.” I pull up a website and shoot him a screenshot.

“Shit, yeah. It’s right in front of my face.”

“Ha. Knew it.”

“Yeah, yeah. See you at home.”

He calls me back twice more asking for specifics, and my heart swells in my chest at how ridiculous he is. He wants to get it right and it’s so endearing. He’s trying.

I might have fallen a little more in love by the time he arrives back home, two bags in his hand and looking frazzled.

“That was…something else, Avery.”

“I’m sorry. I had no idea you only bought the same shit week to week.”

“Just have my habits. Guess I’m going to grow as a person with you as my roommate.”

“Oh, you sure are.”

I waggle my eyebrows at him, and he smiles as he sets the bags down and begins unloading them.

“I did get some champagne though. It was on a shelf on the way out.”

“Oh, how romantic, Dean. You know the way to my heart.”

His cheeks flush and he looks a little sheepish. “Didn’t think of that.”

“I know,” I say as I nudge him. “I’m just being silly. Now sit back and relax and get ready for the best dinner of your life.”

I keep shifting in my chair because goddammit, Dean. He’s moaning around his fork with each bite, and it’s making me horny as fuck. It’s a ridiculously sexy sound. It should be illegal.

“Honestly, I get that you enjoy it,” I murmur, taking another long sip of the champagne he poured me. This is my second glass. I might have gulped down the first one quickly. Might even be a little lightheaded.

But the food I put in my stomach quickly soaked it up and now I’m on glass two. I’ll probably finish the entire bottle on my own. May even drink Dean’s glass that he hasn’t touched.

I didn’t even know he was a champagne guy, actually. Thought it was beer or bust.

“Sorry, but fuck, Avery. This teriyaki sauce is amazing.”

Yes. Butt fuck, Dean. Butt fuck me.

“I warned you. And you didn’t believe me.”

His eyes meet mine as he wipes his mouth with his napkin. “Yeah, I’m a convert now. You can do no wrong.”

“I’m perfect. In every way.”

I grin and he winks at me, making me melt a little more into my seat. Well, damn. This is detrimental. I chug the rest of the champagne and let out a small burp.

“Want another?” he asks.

“Just give me the bottle.”

He chuckles and slides it toward me.

“You can have mine too if you’d like.” He sips on it lightly, and I wonder what it would be like to press my lips to where his have just been.

Would melt my panties right off me, I’m sure.

“Haven’t had champagne since my wedding, I think.”

“Well, I was surprised when you picked this up.”

“I traveled around the world in the grocery store. Thought I’d go even farther outside my comfort zone with this.”

I snort a laugh, put the bottle up to my lips, and take a sloppy swig.

“Well, you did good. It’s the least I can do now that you’ve offered up your home. And…I promise to start looking for other places to live as soon as I have a deposit saved up. I know I said I’d only stay a few days, but it might take me a while. With my wages and such.”

“I don’t mind you being here, Avery.”

“I know, but I do. I don’t want to put you out. Or overstay my welcome.”

“I get it, but you’re welcome to stay as long as you want. ”

“Yeah, yeah.”

I’ve never had anyone say that to me—not friends, or roommates, or my parents—and it’s making me kind of emotional. Or maybe it’s the mirin or the champagne I’m consuming in mass quantities. Whatever it is, I’m going to be a blubbering mess pretty soon.

“You okay?”

He cocks his head at me, and I sniffle. “Yes. I’m fine.”

A hiccup leaves me and I blush, taking another swig of the champagne.

“You look like you’re crying.”

“I’m not. I’m just…I got rice stuck in my throat. My eyes are watering.”

Dean looks concerned but lets it go. Thank god. I’m not in the mood to dissect this. My past is…well, it’s not as bad as some, but it was also not healthy and very toxic. There’s a reason I’ve gone no-contact with my family.

Except for my sister.

The only person I have in this world at the moment is Dean.

I really need to make some new friends, to branch out and become more of my own person. To be who I was meant to be, who I want to see when I look in the mirror.

But I’m not there yet.

Not quite ready to take my true self out into the world.

“All right, well, after dinner, want to sit out back? I can start a fire and we can look at the stars.”

“Stop being such a romantic,” I murmur and then nod my head. “First champagne and now a fire. That sounds lovely.”

We glance at one another and I can’t help but lean forward. “Dean, honestly, tell me the truth. Why haven’t you remarried?”

He pauses, his fork right next to his mouth.

“Just never found anyone.”

“I mean, I’ve seen you dating.” I have. A few women used to come by the shop. All dolled up and gorgeous.

I know I’m overstepping but I can’t help it. I’m curious.

“I’ve dated.” He takes a bite and shrugs. “Never found anyone worth sticking around for. It’s hard when Elaine is the one I’m comparing them to.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Our eyes clash and he swallows. “What about you?”

“I’m twenty-two. I have time.”

For you, Dean. I have time to wait for you. Even if I fall short of all your lofty expectations.

I don’t say that. Obviously. That would be insane. I bury that deep inside.

I say nothing.

“No one serious?”

“No. Never had the urge. Just waiting to find the right person. The right man.”

I wink at him, and his skin reddens. It’s cute, the way he responds to li’l old me. It’s tantalizing. Addicting.

“Yeah, that’s right. You’re gay.”

“The gayest.”

“Yeah, I know.”

We smile at one another and he slowly eats the rest of his food and then goes for seconds. I’m doing the dishes by the time he’s finally done. When the dishwasher is loaded, we make our way outside, the air crisp and cold. Dean hands me a blanket, and I pull it over my shoulders as he lights the fire.

I may stare at the way his pants pull over his ass as he bends down. His underwear shows and a little bit of his ass crack too.

I may stare a little too hard.

My eyes grow dry and I have to blink several times to make sure they don’t stick to my eyelids.

“You okay?”

“Yep, just the smoke.” It’s a lie. A terrible one at that. It’s not the smoke. It’s his ass on display in those terrible pants that do things to his curves. My mouth is watering and so are my eyes.

I can’t look away.

I must. I can’t admit my pervy thoughts.

So I stare at the ground for a long time. A spider moves over the blades of grass, trying to find a home. I hope it doesn’t wander into the fire and die.

“Let me get you something to sit on.” He pulls a chair up next to me and I plop down, my eyes moving from the spider to the blooming fire.

Dean leans back in his chair, those thick thighs spread wide, and I may peek over at his dick. Just a sneaky little glance. I can tell it’s big and thick, even while soft.

I look away.

“Is the smoke bothering you? You’re blinking a lot.”

I huff a laugh. If he only knew.

“Oh, I’m fine. It’s just…you know…a blink. Several in fact. Lots of blinking.”

He glances at me, a smile forming on his lips. “Yeah. Like I said.”

I snort and then run a hand through my hair. “I think I drank too much.”

“Seems so.”

“Listen, I’m…well, I’m not a lush and I don’t drink that often.”

“You put down an entire bottle.”

“Yeah, what are you gonna do about it, Mr. Dean?”

Before he can respond, I hear a commotion behind me.

“Oh. Hello,” Ben says, looking a little sheepish. “I didn’t know you were here, Avery. Am I interrupting?”

I wet my lips, feeling like I’m intruding on something. This is his son. And I’ve been having very dirty thoughts about his father. Oh my.

“No, you’re not. Avery is just crashing here for a while.”

“Had a mishap with my roommates,” I add.

“Oh. Okay.” Ben shifts on his feet, looking unsure.

“Want some dinner? Avery made some salmon,” Dean says.

Ben eyes me, and I manage an odd smile. Half my mouth turns up and the other frowns. It’s impressive actually. Must be all the champagne. I can’t function.

“Sure. I could eat.”

“I’ll grab you some,” Dean says and stands, giving me a nice view of his butt. I try not to look. Really, I do, but fuck. I look. His butt is an eye magnet. “Pull up a chair. ”

Ben does and settles next to me.

He peers over at me, and I sigh loudly.

“I should have told you about the moving-in thing. Or your dad should have,” I begin, but Ben waves it off.

“No. It’s fine. I’m glad he has someone here with him. I know I’m not around much. I’ve been so…busy.”

Maybe it’s the smoke or the alcohol, but he almost looks guilty. Hm. I’ll have to dissect that later when I’m of sound mind. Right now is not the time to investigate. And really, I need to make sure I don’t make Ben uncomfortable with my wayward glances at his father.

I really don’t want Ben to hate me.

“Here you go,” Dean says, pulling my gaze from his son. He hands Ben the bowl of rice and salmon, and Ben fiddles with the fork.

“This looks great, Avery. Are you going to be cooking for my dad for a while?”

“I will. Since he’s been so kind as to let me stay here until I find another place to live.”

“I’m so glad. My dad eats like shit.”

“I do not,” Dean grumbles, but he’s smirking. That man knows what he’s doing. He knows he lives off Costco rotisserie chicken and canned soup.

“I’ll make sure he’s eating well.”

“Good, this old man needs to make sure he keeps his cholesterol down.”

Dean raises his eyebrows. “Since when do you know about my cholesterol?”

“I mean, you’re in your forties. I think you probably have some elevated labs.”

I snort a laugh. “Should I be checking your labs too?”

“Fuck no. Ben, I don’t have high cholesterol.”

Ben grins at me, and I waggle my eyebrows. He takes a bite of his food and swallows it daintily. Guess he got his eating habits from his dad.

I may have to reassess how I shove food into my face when I’m with them .

Oh, who am I kidding? I can’t help it. I’m a foodie and everyone knows it.

“I’d offer you some champagne, but Avery drank it all.”

I roll my eyes. “It was delicious.”

“Straight from the bottle.”

“You know it.”

I grin widely, my mouth behaving this time, and Dean chuckles.

“What are you up to tonight?” Dean asks Ben.

Ben shifts in his chair, taking another bite. “Well, not much…hanging out with some friends.”

“That’s nice,” Dean stares at his son for a moment before turning back to the fire. “Well, you’re welcome to come by for dinner anytime.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Ben takes another small bite and sighs. “This is really good though, Avery.”

“Thank you.”

“Where did you learn to cook?”

“Oh, I taught myself.”

“Amazing. I’m not a great cook, but I manage.”

We sit in silence for a while, the fire crackling between us. I try to get some words out, but they die as quickly as the sparks bursting from the wood and disappear into the night sky. These two men are quiet as mice.

When Ben finally leaves, Dean puts the fire out with some sand and opens the door for me. By this time, I’m mostly sober.

And honestly, ready for bed and a nice jerk-off session. I mean, you can only ask me to keep it together for a short time. Dean’s butt is a major temptation. Big time.

“I’ll finish up the dishes,” Dean says, and I protest, but he sends me to bed.

I go reluctantly, taking a peek over my shoulder one more time before disappearing into the bathroom to shower. When I’m done, I climb straight under the covers.

I have work tomorrow.

I need sleep .

And if my hand slips beneath my pants for a light jerk, there is nothing I can do about it.

My phone beeps in the middle of the night and I roll over to grab at it.

The area code of the number flashing across the screen has me sitting up and swiping at it without thought. It has to be her. It has to be.

“Amanda?”

“Hey, butthead.”

I let out a small laugh. “Hi, how did you manage to call me? Are Mom and Dad dead?”

“Ha. I wish, but no. I’m out with a friend. He said he’d let me use his phone.”

My lips fall. “What kind of friend?”

“Don’t worry. He’s gay, like you.”

“Oh my god. Well, don’t let Mom and Dad know. They’ll riot.”

“Oh, I won’t. I don’t tell them anything. I’m basically the best liar. I could become a CIA agent.”

I sigh, and she does the same. “But really, I’ve missed you. How are you?”

I want to tell her about everything, but I know we probably don’t have much time.

“I’m good. Have a nice place to stay with a nice roommate. How are Mom and Dad since they’re not dead?”

“The worst ever. I can’t wait till I’m eighteen and can move out.”

“Two more years and then you can come live with me.”

“Yeah, I can’t wait, but hey…the reason I’m calling is I have a school trip to San Diego soon. I want to see you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s plan it. I’ll meet you wherever you want me to meet you.”

She laughs. “So, Mars then?”

“Fuck off.”

“You can’t talk to me like that. I’m your baby sister. ”

“And you always were a little shit.”

She laughs again, the sound so fucking perfect, and my heart clenches. I haven’t seen her in ages. Four years to be exact. When I left home at eighteen, I knew I was leaving her behind. But fuck, I couldn’t take it anymore. And really, my parents didn’t give me a choice. I was forced to go unless I went to conversion therapy.

And I wasn’t going to do that.

Fuck that.

“All right, I have to go, but listen, I can’t wait to see you. I miss you like crazy and I think my boyfriend is going to get me a phone, so we can chat then.”

“Yeah? I’d love that.”

“I’d love it too. Send me a recent pic of you and I’ll do the same.”

“All right. Will do. Keep in touch.”

“Always.”

And then she hangs up, my phone pinging a moment later with a picture of her, looking all grown up. Big blue eyes stare back at me. She’s gorgeous with long blonde hair. An angel. I can’t believe I missed out on so much. She’s grown up without me.

Anger sits heavily in my gut, but I push it away.

No point in getting mad about this, it will only ruin the rest of my night. The only thing I can do is move forward. For her and for me.

I scroll through my pictures and shoot one off to her, and she sends back a few emojis in typical teenager fashion.

My head hits the pillow, and I set my phone on my chest.

I can’t wait until I get to see her.

I miss her so fucking much.