Page 18 of Always Salty

“Because the feel of my hair blowing against my skin drives me insane, and it’s too long right now,” I shared with a shrug.

So I had sensory issues.

Sue me.

“Why don’t you cut it, then?” he asked.

“Because my sisters want to do these stupid family group photos, and they say that when I cut my hair, I look too mean,” I conceded. “So I have to wait until these pictures next week before I can cut it.”

“Ahh,” he said.

“You want this kid?” I asked. “I don’t want him to wake up and break my eardrum with his scream when he finds himself being held by someone he doesn’t know all that well.”

He took the kid from me and then closed his door before looking around the neighborhood.

“Where’s your car?” he asked, looking around as if by him doing so, it’d appear out of thin air.

“Walked,” I returned. “Across the path that leads around the lake from my place to this one.”

He shook his head. “That’s like five miles. And it’s two in the morning.”

I shrugged as I started walking with him across the road to where I guessed the kid lived.

“Can’t sleep,” I admitted.

“Thought you were gonna start taking medication for that?” he asked. “Didn’t I hear Dad suggesting it to you?”

“Yeah, but you must’ve not heard the part where he doesn’t take it anymore because he can’t get it up in the morning when he’s taking it. And sometimes it takes him an hour to come,” I drawled.

I have had sleeping problems since I was a kid.

I’d never slept well, and nothing had helped me.

I’d been on every medication alive—at least I’d thought I’d been.

But I wasn’t really willing to take a medication that made my dick not work like I wanted it to.

Sleep wasn’t worth that to me.

We crossed the road to the house catty corner to Quinn’s, and Quinn laid on the doorbell.

The same words came out of this brother’s mouth, too, when he was woken.

“What the fuck do you want?” an angry male voice said.

“Atlas, you dumb fuck,” Quinn said, sounding amused. “Your kid’s out roamin’ the neighborhood at two in the morning again.”

“Goddammit.” Atlas was at the door in a flash, looking slightly frantic. “I’ve done absolutely everything that I can think of, short of tying him to his bed, to keep him inside.”

“Pressure alarm,” I suggested. “Put it outside his door. That way if he crosses it, he wakes up the entire house.”

Both men looked at me curiously.

“Used to have a friend that liked to scare the shit out of me when I slept,” I lied. “Worked pretty well.”

“Might need to add that to our list.” He sighed. “I think I need to fence around the entire property at this point. I don’t think he’s aware enough to get out of a six-foot-high fence.”

“He was able to get out of a locked house with multiple alarms on it,” Quinn pointed out the obvious.

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