And I know it feels like you’re drowning these daysChurch this morning was coffee and ballpoint pen-stained fingers clutching my own and a whispered, quickened prayer against my forehead before a crush of a hug and a send-off into my day so fast I blinked and I was alone.
And I know you question if it’s too late
And my only hope is that you choose to stay
Don’t be too proud to say
That you are alone, lost and afraid
Think about your pride
Just know your doubt’s misplaced
I know it feels like you’re drowning these days
I know you feel like you can’t be saved
And my only hope is that you choose to stay
Sam came to us last night, late. He has a hard time shifting routines and an even tougher time living alone. As much as it has helped us to have Caleb close enough now to touch at any moment, it's been more difficult to have Sam so far away and so I might, as things shift, suggest that Gage take the boathouse, as Gage is the most private and independent one of all, and then Sam can resume life in the main house, surrounded by people and not feeling like an outsider. Plus both Gage and August are good friends, night owls and outliers, and so giving them closer proximity to each other might foster a closer relationship and that's never a bad thing. The Collective is always shifting and adjusting our dynamics based on need and so this wouldn't even be strange. I have already suggested it to several and they are positive about it so perhaps this week will involve a shuffle and Sam will return to the fold.
He seems buoyed by the thought, at least, sleeping easily when we did sleep. I had nightmares and was so cold. He and Lochlan had all the covers and I froze, pressing myself against Lochlan, hoping for a full-body snuggle but he was hot and too tired to be interested and so turned away. I didn't have the heart to wake Sam for more and so I tried and failed to will myself to sleep.
I won't make that mistake again.
The warmest bed on the point is Duncan's. Duncan has what has to be a four-hundred pound feather duvet that is so thick his bed seems up to my waist if I stand beside it and once you're in you feel like there's a heavy dense cloud wrapped around you. It's glorious. He adds flannel sheets in the winter and I couldn't ask for more. I tried to replicate that upstairs but we almost fainted from the heat. I think I just need to shift gears, maybe put the duvet back on the bed and close the windows at night but it's also supposed to swing back to forty degrees in the shade this week so maybe not quite yet. I'll make sure I have an extra blanket close, though. Just in case.
Sam's warm fingers around my hand are replaced with Caleb's. Equally warm but larger and more well-manicured. My mind is a quick read for this man this morning.
You wouldn't have been cold with me either, he frowns.
That I know. The fires of hell burn bright. I smile at him. It's fine. It was just cold last night and I didn't close enough windows.
I would have fixed that for you.
It's fine. I repeat and he changes the subject. Church?
Next week we're back to routine. Today's the last day.
Ah right. Brunch then?
God. He knows the way to my heart is a path lined with bacon and eggs. It's slippery but it's stick-straight and too amazing to ever deviate from, I swear.