Page 6 of Ward
“I think he’ll be here a little bit early. It’s alright, though,” I assure Ward. “He’s going to be perfect.”
Ward gives me a lingering look that’s full of curiosity and maybe some worry. “See you Saturday, Spark. And don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t want to see you before then. Know what I’m saying?”
“I know what you’re saying.” I bow my head in understanding.
“Good. Stay safe in there.” He juts his chin at my house. “And thank you again, for watching Laney today.”
“Anytime! Iloveher.”
“Yeah…” He smiles earnestly, making my insides do very odd things. “Me, too.”
Three
Ward
Transfixedis an understatement.
Yvette’s been talking to me about candles, oils, and healing stones for the last two and a half hours in my room at the station. Okay, so not toonlyme, but also her over one hundred thousand followers through the hundreds of short videos she’s posted on her TikTok. I was under the impression she had an “e-store” and used social media as one of her marketing channels. All true. But I didn’t realize she was a whole entire thing. Her light, melodic voice, and those ocean deep blue eyes have me in a trance.
She’s a full-fledged influencer.
Right now, she’s certainlyinfluencingmy dick to try to punch a thick hole in my bunker pants.
Her arsenal of bracelets she wears in every video make a symphony each time she reaches up to swipe her dark hair off her pretty, fairylike face, making room for those big eyes to see into me. I don’t know what it is about that gesture, but fuck, it does it for me. There’s always this little, mysterious spark in her eye. And then there’s her nails. I never really noticed her nails in real life, but now I can’t imagine why not. Those suckers have main character energy; in most of the videos they’re long and shaped to a point and highly adorned with fancy designs in the polish and I can’t help but wonder how they’d feel racing down my back…
I reach down to school my cock into some sort of submission, but that’s fuckin’ futile. It wants her.Needs her.
Every time I try to jack off to her though, images of her in a whole new light come crashing into my head uninvited. I don’t want to think of the motherly version of her I saw the other day, nor the broken, vulnerable version who just lost the person whowas, for all intents and purposes,herdad. I don’t want to keep wondering why she’s really here. Was she running? From what?
I want her to go back to kooky, crazy, irritating Yvette who I could just think of as sexy and scary-ish and nothing else.
Does that make me an ass? Maybe. Something’s changed though. Seeing Yvette with baby Laney…I can’t put to words what that did to me. Or why in the hell it did those things. It made mewant that.
I don’t want kids. I don’t need family. It’s too much pressure to—to what? What is the reason for that ballooning pressure I feel in my chest and my throat when I think of being a father and a husband? It’s not the responsibility—I can take care of anything, I canhandleanything.
No. It’s the fact they’d need me to stayalive.
I tuck my cock back into my pants and scroll to the next video. Yeah, she is a bit kooky, no one can deny that. But she’s also a smart as fuck salesperson. If she could harvest her voice alone and package it up, it’d sell gangbusters.
I’m about to close out of the app when a new video suddenly populates at the top. She just posted this? It’s called,Papa Donovan. Without thinking better of it, I select it to play.
She takes a few seconds longer than usual to begin talking. Her eyes are glistening with unshed tears, no makeup on her face, no crazy nails, just her natural self. Beautiful self. She’s been crying and maybe losing some sleep and for that, she looks rougher for wear, but still drop-dead sexy.
If I didn’t already know her speaking voice well, I’d think she was singing, and not just talking, about Mr. Donovan. She clearly misses him, and I wish there were anything I could do to help her with that hurt. But I know from experience, no one can take away the pain of losing someone you loved that much, someone who meant that much.
I’m so absorbed in Yvette’s tribute video, I don’t realize I’m being watched outside my now-wide openbedroom door. By everyone. That is, until I hear Emrys.
“Thisis why you missed dinner?” Emrys bitches. “I made good chili.”
“You made death chili,” Dante complains.
“You said make it spicy.”
“Yeah, I like heat,” Dante explains. “I don’t want to get fucked in the mouth by the sun.”
“You baby,” says Emrys.
“I liked it.” Collin shrugs.
