couldn’t.
His face was soft with sleep already, his even breaths—I knew he was exhausted. It was hard as hell, but I let him be. I watched for a while. Explored some, then finally I crawled to his side. The attic was hot, but the windows were open and on the opposite side he had a fan blowing out, which pushed even more air in the window we were under. Rafters were open at various points in the floor letting the cool air from below rise. I still shed my tank and shorts, knowing the cooler I was, the deeper I’d sleep.
Even though he was sound asleep, once I was at his side he moved his arm across my waist and pulled me flush against him, then nestled his chin against my neck. Safe had become a word I used fleetingly, if at all, but right then I felt such a thing and let myself drift into the first deep sleep I’d had in weeks.
***
The church was our new home, or so I assumed as the days went by and it became the place we landed late each night. Each moment of those first few days felt like a prison I could not break out of. I wasn’t afraid of Slayton’s anger, but I respected it. I knew he drew the emotion up with reason, or at least I hadn’t seen him flip his switch without being provoked. He stayed tense with anger when he was awake, he’d rarely if ever meet my stare, and when he did I saw a pain I could not understand. It was the kind of look that pushed me to imagine the worst. I didn’t want to stop time where I was, but I wasn’t so sure I was ready for an end. An end could mean anything, I was aware. But I wasn’t born yesterday. I knew an end to my drama meant an end to Slayton in my life.
I wanted peace, but I wanted him. Having both was a pipe dream I only let myself hold onto for seconds at a time.
“You swear he’s alive,” I asked right when we returned to the attic. Slayton had been in a good mood, a quiet one, all day. He’d kissed me longer and let his touch entice me more. There were moments that I let myself believe we were only kids lingering in a day that seemed both timeless and endless. There were no demons or unspoken truths lurking outside our door. It was a pipe dream kinda day.
I thought if any day was a good one to ask, it was this one. I was wrong.
“You have no hard limit,” he snapped as he moved to open more rafters in the floor, it was earlier in the night than it usually was when we came here, so it was hotter.
I swayed back confused and appalled at once. “What is that supposed to mean?”
He glared at me. I watched him struggle with his words, trying to pick kinder ones and not what he really wanted to say. I resented him for the effort, for thinking I was breakable. “Bloom comes face to face with me, then sells shit that’s not his. Risks your life . All but put it on a platter, and you still cry for him?” Slayton lifted his chin in fury. “You don’t see me for days . First words— first reaction is about him .”
He was jealous of my father? Seriously? Worse yet, the idea that he was, infuriated me and made my heart flutter at once. It made me think he really did care about me, but at the same time, I felt like a possession, property. A job he had to do.
“You told him to sell it,” I yelled. He lifted his hand then pointed at the floor, a warning the church was not empty.
“I told him to sell what I could cover if I had to,” he whispered bitterly.
I stared wide-eyed at him, lost as ever.
A pissed smirk flashed on his face. “He openly volunteered to house more. Sold it all. Half a million dollars worth,” he continued resentfully. “Then he bet it all and lost .”
I shakily sat down on the edge of the bed, fighting a sick sensation. “You’re going to kill him.”
“I’m not,” he said grudgingly.
I looked up at him with wide eyes full of fear and doubt.
“He’s been given a deadline. Bloom claims he had to double cross because those who owed him had not paid. That he had the money, just not the time.”
I didn’t trust
His face was soft with sleep already, his even breaths—I knew he was exhausted. It was hard as hell, but I let him be. I watched for a while. Explored some, then finally I crawled to his side. The attic was hot, but the windows were open and on the opposite side he had a fan blowing out, which pushed even more air in the window we were under. Rafters were open at various points in the floor letting the cool air from below rise. I still shed my tank and shorts, knowing the cooler I was, the deeper I’d sleep.
Even though he was sound asleep, once I was at his side he moved his arm across my waist and pulled me flush against him, then nestled his chin against my neck. Safe had become a word I used fleetingly, if at all, but right then I felt such a thing and let myself drift into the first deep sleep I’d had in weeks.
***
The church was our new home, or so I assumed as the days went by and it became the place we landed late each night. Each moment of those first few days felt like a prison I could not break out of. I wasn’t afraid of Slayton’s anger, but I respected it. I knew he drew the emotion up with reason, or at least I hadn’t seen him flip his switch without being provoked. He stayed tense with anger when he was awake, he’d rarely if ever meet my stare, and when he did I saw a pain I could not understand. It was the kind of look that pushed me to imagine the worst. I didn’t want to stop time where I was, but I wasn’t so sure I was ready for an end. An end could mean anything, I was aware. But I wasn’t born yesterday. I knew an end to my drama meant an end to Slayton in my life.
I wanted peace, but I wanted him. Having both was a pipe dream I only let myself hold onto for seconds at a time.
“You swear he’s alive,” I asked right when we returned to the attic. Slayton had been in a good mood, a quiet one, all day. He’d kissed me longer and let his touch entice me more. There were moments that I let myself believe we were only kids lingering in a day that seemed both timeless and endless. There were no demons or unspoken truths lurking outside our door. It was a pipe dream kinda day.
I thought if any day was a good one to ask, it was this one. I was wrong.
“You have no hard limit,” he snapped as he moved to open more rafters in the floor, it was earlier in the night than it usually was when we came here, so it was hotter.
I swayed back confused and appalled at once. “What is that supposed to mean?”
He glared at me. I watched him struggle with his words, trying to pick kinder ones and not what he really wanted to say. I resented him for the effort, for thinking I was breakable. “Bloom comes face to face with me, then sells shit that’s not his. Risks your life . All but put it on a platter, and you still cry for him?” Slayton lifted his chin in fury. “You don’t see me for days . First words— first reaction is about him .”
He was jealous of my father? Seriously? Worse yet, the idea that he was, infuriated me and made my heart flutter at once. It made me think he really did care about me, but at the same time, I felt like a possession, property. A job he had to do.
“You told him to sell it,” I yelled. He lifted his hand then pointed at the floor, a warning the church was not empty.
“I told him to sell what I could cover if I had to,” he whispered bitterly.
I stared wide-eyed at him, lost as ever.
A pissed smirk flashed on his face. “He openly volunteered to house more. Sold it all. Half a million dollars worth,” he continued resentfully. “Then he bet it all and lost .”
I shakily sat down on the edge of the bed, fighting a sick sensation. “You’re going to kill him.”
“I’m not,” he said grudgingly.
I looked up at him with wide eyes full of fear and doubt.
“He’s been given a deadline. Bloom claims he had to double cross because those who owed him had not paid. That he had the money, just not the time.”
I didn’t trust
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