On my back, three in the morning. Lochlan has one hand around my neck and the other behind my back, holding my hands. He gets all fierce and in my face and then collapses his weight onto me.
I can't do this. This is fucked up.
He sits me up and lets go. Then he pulls me in by the neck again, but this time to cuddle. Whatever lingering want I have will have to be taken out on Ben later. That's okay too.
I could have told you that.
How do I make it so you never need Caleb again?
I told you! A lobotomy. It's the only surefire way.
Or I could kill him. Call it a crime of passion. I'd probably be out in time to retire, at worst. If they even put me jail knowing the history here.
Do you want to take that chance?
Of course not. Except for most days when I do.
I'm kidding. Okay, sort of kidding. Okay, not kidding.
I can't even do this with you right now.
Then don't. Let's run away.
And join the circus? I think I've heard this one before.
He tucks my hair behind my ear. And we were so happy. Happier than we've ever been.
You'll have to go without me and I'll catch up to you when the kids are grown.
I wouldn't leave you again.
Then take this horrible, terrible life and live with it! I motion around the room at the eight-hundred thread count weightless Egyptian duvet. The ocean view. The fireplace. The everything. The difference between our shitty little broken-down burned out camper and the endless fear and relentless hunger and this.
We sold out, Peanut.
We had no choice. This is the only way we could have survived. And I wouldn't do anything different if I could go back.
I sure would.