Page 21 of Demise

I slept at Uncle Hale’s for two days. I ate, I slept, I ate, I slept. But I could no longer stay there. I needed to come home, not realizing home wouldn’t feel the same. For this wasn’t just my home, but ours. Plans were drawn, nails were hammered, paint was coated. Samuel made this place,ourplace.

My eyes scan the room, the staircase, the hall. The faint sound of the fridge hums in the kitchen, the patio lights blink on as they always have at twilight. I see it through the back kitchen windows, illumining the cabinets. The timer still works. The ceiling fan above swirls, circulating the air around me. Nothing has changed here and yet everything has changed.

I just want to sleep. I remove some anxiety pills from my pocket and get my mouth wet before I pop them back.

I hit my head against the wall, shutting my eyes and then jump out of my skin when a loud bang sounds on the door.

“Bexley?” I hear.

“Jesus Christ,” I breathe, removing my hand from my heart. “Come in,” I say, knowing that voice so well.

Thatvoice.

I try not to let it unnerve me, but it’s pointless, isn’t it? Danny will always affect me.

I think about my position here on the floor, but I can’t get up fast enough. He’s already walking in.

He doesn’t see me yet, so I have the luxury of taking him in for a quick moment. Fresh shaven, new haircut, in black joggers and a matching hoodie.

Shit.

Here I sit on the floor with gray sweatpants and a ratty t-shirt and coat. Hair thrown up, no makeup, and he walks in looking like a model forGQ.

What is life?

“Down here,” I say.

Danny looks to the left. “Why are you on the floor?”

I shrug. “Wanted to sit down.”

“And the couch didn’t suffice?”

I don’t respond.

He notices my crutches and his brow furrows. “What is that?”

I look down at them. “I’m sure you know what they are.”

“For fuck’s sake, I know what they are. I mean why? How bad are you hurt?” He shuts the door, walking over to me and bending. And the click is not heard by just me.

Hmm.

He looks me over, his eyes scanning my legs and landing on my wrapped ankle. He reaches out, but then stopping himself, he pulls his hand back.

Why does disappointment settle in my chest? Why did I want his touch so badly?

“I just twisted it,” I say. “I won’t need these much longer.”

Danny nods, but the stress lines don’t disappear.

“Let me help you off the floor,” he says.

“I like it down here.”

He looks at me curiously, but without a second thought, he sits beside me. Maybe he’s trying to hide it, but I notice how carefully he sits. He’s hurt.

And I’m an ass. I haven’t called. I haven’t checked in on him at all. I’ve been in a sleeping, eating coma. Avoiding coming here, avoiding us and what happened back at that cabin. I know I killed Carson. I know that, but I know nothing else.

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