Page 283 of My Sweet Dollie, You Have to Love Me
“You associate me with your trauma.” And yet she still chooses to spend time with me.
My heart flutters.
Still scrubbing, she whispers, “I don’t want to. Why now?”
Because the brain doesn’t always key us in to its logic.
It’s okay,I sign to her.
She nods and twists on me until her body is flush with mine. Her hand stays between us, over the bag stuck to her stomach.
“You don’t need to do that with me,” I whisper as I take her hand, removing it from her stomach and placing it on my chest, where my heart races beneath her touch.
A weak smile lifts her cheek, but another tear falls.
“I just want to be normal. I don’t wanna see ghosts anymore. I just want to see your adult face.”
“One day. One day, things will be better for us.”
Tracing scars, she settles on my chest, her head meeting my skin.
“You promise?”
“I’ll do everything I can to keep you from feeling like this again. I promise. Whole together, remember?”
We can still be whole together.
CHAPTER 66
Dollie—age sixteen
Almost three long years have passed.
I haven’t seen how Ambrose’s face has matured with his perfect bone structure. I haven’t had to crane my neck to look up at him. We haven’t held each other through fears and stress.
Dad’s tires crunch dirt on the other side of the window as bright headlamps light up the night.
As always, the trees around this land make things darker and creepier. Shadows move in a way that makes it look like they’re strutting towards the car like phantasmic butlers.
A tightening feeling spreads across my chest, and I rub at it, ignoring the voices seeping from the dining area. It’s just Mom on her third attempt at getting my very quiet new boyfriend to talk. He’s always borderline silent around most people, including my parents.
A conversation creeps in from outside as Dad steps out of the car. A second later, the passenger door opens, and long legs covered in new denim kick out.
My hand keeps moving on my chest, breath hitching when Ambrose steps from the car. His dark hair and silver scars glowin the moonlight. His tanned skin emphasizes those enchanting eyes.
A smile lifts his lips when Dad talks to him. From what I can hear, it’s a basic everyday conversation—something they haven’t had since life before Chuckles.
Green eyes glance my way, but it’s unlikely he’ll see me behind the heavy drapes that cover the windows. Still, I see him, and my mouth gapes open. I fear I might be drooling, and my hand moves from my chest to my mouth.
Ambrose nears the front doors, and my breathing comes fast and hard.
He’s home.
He’s finally home.
I rush to the foyer, appearing in the archway as the front doors open with a hard push.
Ambrose stands under the light, squinting as he turns, taking in the home he was forced to leave behind. The bright lights still bother him as he kicks off new sneakers, and my hand moves subconsciously to the dim setting.
