Page 68 of Home With You

He went in at five? He was here until one in the morning, sitting outside the tent. He wanted to make sure Gladys was okay and said he'd stay there all night but I convinced him to go home, telling him I'd come get him if I needed him.

"How's she doing?" he asks, motioning to the tent.

"She's okay. She just took her meds. She's sleeping now."

"That's good. Sleep will help her get better." He walks over to some bags that are next to the lawn chair.

"What's all that?" I ask.

He brings the bags over and I notice they're shopping bags. "I got her another blanket." He pulls out a large thick blanket. "I got the warmest one I could find, and it's big enough that you could both use it."

I take it from him, fighting back tears. He's been so good to us and I don't know why. I still can't figure out why he's doing this.

"Thank you, Miles."

"No problem." He picks up another bag. "I also got this." He hands the bag to me.

I open it up and pull out a zip-up hoodie. It's hot pink with thick fleece inside. It's heavy and warm and just what I need now that the weather's getting cold. I've been wearing Miles' sweatshirt for weeks now. It's the warmest thing I own.

"Try it on," he says.

I unzip it and pull it over my arms, feeling the immediate warmth from the fleece. The warmth spreads to my core when I zip it up, cutting out the chill from the wind.

"You like it?" he asks, smiling. "Because it looks really good on you."

I don't have a mirror but I think it really does look good on me. It fits me perfectly and I love the pink color. It makes me feel like a girl. All my other stuff is dark and dingy. When I put my hair up and wear a hat, some people mistake me for a guy.

"I love it," I say, running my hand along the soft fabric. I feel myself smiling, not just because of the gift but because Miles actually went to the store and picked it out, just for me.

Suddenly, my smile drops and my chest tightens as my mind flashes back to a memory of Rob, the day I met him.

I was waitressing at a shitty truck-stop restaurant off the interstate, barely making enough to pay rent. My car had just died that morning and I didn't have money to fix it. I didn't know what I was going to do. I needed that car to get to work. An hour into my shift, this guy walked in and sat at one of my tables. He was really hot and easy to talk to, so when he asked me out, I didn't think twice. I told him yes and we made plans for that night. When he left, I found a hundred dollar tip on the table. I thought I'd hit the jackpot. I'd met a hot guy with money who was interested in me.

Rob and I started dating that night, and a month later, I moved in with him. He had a huge house in a really nice neighborhood. And he had two new cars and let me use them as if they were my own. He bought me whatever I wanted. Clothes. Shoes. Electronics. In return, I just had to take care of the house and run errands for him. It was like a dream come true. I was finally out of poverty and living the life I always wanted. I assumed Rob and I would get married, have a few kids, and live happily ever after.

But that never happened because that life wasn't real. The fantasy I thought I was living was fake and I didn't even know it. When I found out the truth about Rob and tried to leave, my fantasy turned into a nightmare. Everything I thought was mine was suddenly gone. Because it was never mine.

"I can't accept this." I unzip the sweatshirt and take it off, feeling the cold air pour through the thin fabric of my shirt.

"Too late," Miles says. "I can't take it back."

"Why not?"

"Store clearance sale. Returns aren't allowed."

I shove it in his hands. "You never should've bought it. I told you not to buy things for me."

"I didn't." He holds the sweatshirt over his chest. "I bought it for me, but look. It doesn't even cover half my chest. I didn't realize how small it was until I got home."

I stare at him, holding up that tiny pink hoodie against his massive chest, trying not to laugh. "You didn't buy that for yourself."

"I sure as hell did." He holds it up closer to his face. "I thought the pink would look good with my skin."

I laugh. I couldn't hold it in. Imagining him wearing that sweatshirt is just too damn funny.

"I'm assuming your laughter means you agree with me," he says. "But you could've been more subtle about it and just said I'd look better in a different color."

I'm laughing even more now. "Just give it to me."

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