Page 45 of Not In The Contract

“She goes off on this rant about this old story her mom used to tell her and her siblings when they got sick,” she continued. “It’s an old folktale about this carpenter who caught a cold every time he overworked himself. I forget the details because I was delirious with a fever at the time, but she basically compared herself to this thing she called the self-care goblin, who went around to sick people’s houses making sure they took care of themselves.”

I set my empty glass in the sink.

“Ever since then, she’s made it her personal duty in life to make sure everyone around her religiously practices self-care.”

“And how does she do that?” I found myself asking.

Something in her gaze shifted from concern to relief but I ignored it, focusing instead on the steady tick of the clock above the cabinets.

“Can I show you?” she asked.

I shrugged. I had time to kill before the food arrived. I hatedkilling time.

I wandered into the living room with Devon in tow, her bare feet silent on the tiles.

I sat on one of the pristine sofas and she followed suit, sitting on the same sofa and curling her feet under her.

“First, you have to make sure you’re comfy,” she stated, and I leveled a blank stare at her.

She giggled and it was enough to melt away some of the ire that lurked in my gut.

“Fine, we’ll get to the good part.” She chuckled. “Close your eyes.”

I would do no such thing. Mostly because I’d very likely fall asleep. But also because it was late and yet Devon’s eyes sparkled with a sense of comfort that I craved.

“Come on, it only works if you close your eyes,” she insisted.

“If you’re letting a horde of pagan pixies loose in my house, I will kick you out,” I warned, letting my eyes slip shut.

Immediately, the ache of the bright lights ebbed until the weight of my eyelids was a balm of sorts.

“Good,” Devon said, her voice much gentler than it had been a moment ago. “Now, focus on your breathing. You don’t have to slow it down or breathe deeper, just pay attention to it going in and out.”

Feeling a little churlish, I huffed out a dramatic breath, knowing that somewhere in the night, Hayden’s ears were burning.

Devon giggled, the sound thick with a melody I hadn’t noticed until that very moment.

“That’s good,” she praised. “If it helps, you can mentally note your breaths by sayinginandoutas you breathe.”

With another sigh, I gave in, mentally groaning as I did so. But Devon’s voice held a sense of comfort, something warm that lulled me into a calmer headspace while she spoke.

“Now, while you’re focusing on your breathing,” she said, shifting a little on the sofa. “I want you to start letting go of the tension in your feet on the exhale.”

I had no idea how to let go of the tension in my feet, but the darkness was close enough to unconsciousness that I went along with it anyway. I wiggled my toes in my socks, feeling a little stupid.

“Next, the tension in your calves.”

I flexed my legs experimentally, letting the muscles relax as I exhaled.

“Now your thighs.”

And slowly, each of my muscles loosened until I was sure I was drifting on a bed of feathers.

“And when you’re ready,” she finally said, after a long beat of silence. “You can open your eyes.”

I did, blinking a little at the intrusive light.

“How do you feel?”