Page 52 of If All Else Sails
“What were the two of you talking about?” he asks, eyes narrowing.
Susan winks at me. “Just a little girl talk. Isn’t that right, Josie?”
“Right,” I say, despite not knowing what girl talk with someone like Susan could possibly entail. Maybe why diamonds are a girl’s best friend and the long-term benefits of facials.
What I do know is for every question I get answered about Wyatt, five more spring up in their place, leaving me with a ravenous curiosity I wish I could satisfy without becoming more invested. But I suspect I’m already far more invested than I should be.
Especially when I find myself wondering whether Wyatt could take his sailing trip if someone went with him. Someone who was willing but maybe didn’t have much boat experience.
Someone like...me.
Chapter13
Cat-Cow in the Dark
Wyatt
People talk about sleeping like it’s something passive—youfallasleep orslip intosleep. Even saying peoplegoto sleep makes it sound like a simple travel destination.
Just follow the road map and go to sleep! Hop on that train! One ticket to sleep, coming right up.
But for me, every night is like waging war. My mind against my body. Or me against my mind—I’m not sure.
All I know is that when my head hits the pillow, my brain decides it’s time to wake up. My thoughts won’t quiet, and my limbs hum with restless energy. During the season, it’s not so bad. My physical exhaustion overrides the thoughts.
Now...I can’t run. I can’t even walk without stupid crutches. And knowing my outlet is gone makes me worry more about sleep, which adds fuel to the dumpster bonfire happening in my head every night.
With Josie sleeping in the bedroom just a few steps away, that challenge is multiplied by infinity.
I knew tonight would be worse after Mom’s visit. From the moment I watched her hug Josie practically to death while winking at me over her shoulder, I knew it. The hopefulness in Mom’s beaming smile hit me with crushing force.
I caught a glimpse of what could be. More like...a glimpse of what Iwantto be.
A giant tease—that’s what it was.
Then there’s the fact that seeing Mom is always bittersweet. It’s impossible to see her without being reminded of my dad and brother.
So it’s no shocker that I’m lying in bed with my brain lit up like Times Square and my limbs twitching with the need tomove.
I’m not the only one struggling to fall asleep tonight. At least based on the sounds I can hear through the completely non-soundproof walls.
There’s the frequent squeak of the mattress and now the creak of the floorboards as Josie gets up to go to the bathroom. I’m grateful for the exhaust fan, which is on its last legs and sounds more like an airplane engine. The only thing that could make this whole living situation more awkward would be the inability to mask bathroom sounds.
The exhaust fan turns off, and I listen as the door opens, sounding like something ripped straight from a spooky Halloween soundtrack. Maybe Josie wasn’t so far off calling this place a murder cottage.
I can tell she’s trying to pad quietly to her room, but it’s like trying to walk silently across a marble floor wearing tap shoes. Impossible. Every floorboard seems committed to announcing her next step.
Her bed groans and squeaks again as she settles in, and I press the heels of my hands over my eyes. Trying to force them shut. Trying to force myself not to think about my injury. Or my future.
Or Josie.
Squeak. Squeeaaak.
It sounds like she’s violently flailing around in there. And now I’m picturing Josie in bed. I press my hands harder into my eyes until I see stars behind my eyelids.
Squeak. Squeak. Squeak.
“Do you mind keeping it down?” I finally shout, my voice edged with frustration. “Some of us are trying to sleep.”
