Page 20 of Finding Limits

“God bless Mitch for being my protection. God bless the Carson family for allowing me to be here. God bless the Dirty Souls for saving me, and God bless my sister.” Her voice weakens and I see another tear streak down her face before she opens her eyes and stands back on her feet.

“You say your prayers every night, darlin’?” I ask, wonderin’ how the hell she just made talkin’ to God look so damn hot.

“Every night,” she assures me as she joins me under the covers, leaving a very respectable gap between us.

“And do you always?—”

“You’re always in them,” she answers the question before I can finish it.

“That’s kind of ya, but I think I’m long past savin’.” I chuckle to myself but hold on to the warm, comforting feeling of knowing I’m in her prayers.

“No one’s past saving, I’m proof of that.” There's hope in the smile she makes for me. “Do you want to know a secret?” She angles her body so it’s facing me.

“Of course.” I frown suspiciously. I wanna know everything about her, even all the parts that made her broken. Maybe then I could fix her.

“I used to hate God. I used to wonder why He demanded such cruel things. I didn’t praise Him, I feared Him,” she admits.

“And now?” I study her.

“Now I realize you were right. God wasn’t speaking through those men. They used His name, and our faith in it, to fulfill their own desires.”

“And your sister? You mentioned her in your prayers there. Have you stopped hating her too?” Maybe if she has, she’ll wanna be reunited with her, and it proves how selfish I’ve become that I don’t want that to happen.

“I don’t hate Addison, at least I don’t think I do. To hate her would be selfish. I just…” She closes her eyes and shakes her head. “I can’t explain it.” I realize that she’s pushing herself too hard.

“Hey, you don’t have to explain anythin’ to me, I was just being curious,” I assure her. “Just get yourself some sleep.”

To lean in and kiss those pretty, rose-colored lips would be the most natural thing in the world right now, but I ignore all my urges and twist my body to turn off the lamp.

“Wait… I need that to stay on. I don’t like the dark.” She stops me.

“Sure.” I look back over my shoulder at her before resting back on my pillow and staring up at the ceiling. Everleigh rolls onto her side, facing away from me and I already know that lying this close to her is gonna make for a long night.

“Mitch,” she whispers my name after a few minutes of silence.

“Yeah, darlin’?”

“Tell me one of your memories, a happy one.” She speaks softly, and staring at the back of her head makes me wanna stroke my fingers through her hair. It’s grown so long since she’s been here and it looks real soft.

“Okay.” I search around in my head and try to come up with something that will make her laugh. I don’t think I’ve ever heard her laugh before.

“There was this one time when Dalton was younger. I’d taken him to the rodeo, and he came home sure that he was gonna be a bull rider. The next morning, he got up early and decided to get himself practicin’, put himself in the pen with a bull we were waiting to put out to pasture. We called him Old Ronnie because he was a grumpy, old fucker like Old Man Mason.” I smile to myself when I remember the kid’s enthusiasm.

“And how did he do?” she asks, sounding intrigued.

“He didn’t. Old Ronnie just kept charging him around the pen, eventually the grumpy, old bastard pinned him into a corner and tossed him out. Dalton took a horn to the ass cheek as a hard lesson, and never tried to be a bull rider again.”

Her shoulders start to shake and the sound that comes outta her mouth is addictive.

“Poor kid could barely sit down for a month.” I laugh a little too, until that sting that reminds me I’ll never see him again hits.

“Thank you.” She closes her eyes and pulls the covers up to her chin, and as I lay here looking at her, thinking about how perfect she is, I wonder if maybe she could be the person who takes that sting away.

The sun peeking through the gap in the curtains warms my face and wakes me up. Warm breath and something bristly tickles my neck, and when I look down and see the forearm wrapped around my middle, I smile. Taking a look over my shoulder I realize Mitch is still sleeping, and although his hold on me is tight and constricting, I don’t mind it at all.

I lie with my eyes open, with his chest rising and falling against my back, and take comfort in how it feels. Being close to Mitch is something I’m rapidly getting attached to, and I don’t know if it’s a good thing.

The world beyond these walls is vast and scary. I’m detached from it but he’s not. I don’t want to be the reason he misses out on doing all the normal things his friends do.

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