Page 20 of Stray

“I think I’m gonna have to take the shoe, Tink,” he sighs dramatically. “It’s the only way.”

I give him an unamused look. “Do not touch me,” I warn as I try to twist and jerk my foot free, only to fall on my ass.

“You alright?” he snickers, and I glare at him.

“Such a gentleman,” I mutter while crossing my arms.

“Baby, I can’t be a gentleman if you won’t let me touch you.” Baby. The things that simple name does to me coming out of his mouth… god damn it. I need to take a cold shower and maybe change audiobooks.

“Fine,” I breathe out slowly. “Just don’t grab my ankle, alright?” He raises a brow but gives me a nod before kneeling behind the gate.

“I’m going to touch your calf,” he announces, and when I feel his hand on my leg, it sends both fire and ice through me. Instinctively, I stiffen and try to move away, but I’m stuck. “Hey now,” he taps my calf with his hand lightly. “Relax, I’m trying to figure this contraption out.” I focus on my breathing as he unlaces my shoe, and before I realize it, he’s holding my foot in his hand and feeding it back through the hole to ensure I don’t get hurt. The gesture is so sweet, especially when he lets go and I see he scratched the top of his hand. He comes around and hands me my shoe so I can put it back on.

“Sorry about your hand,” I say softly while retying my shoe and standing up.

Jackson looks at his hand and shrugs. “I didn’t feel it. My hands are so scarred and calloused, you’d have difficulty hurting them.”

I’m about to tell him thanks, but before I can, a loud scream is echoing from the house. It’s Dorothy. I look at Jackson before we both take off running. Despite my heels, I beat Jackson there by a couple of seconds. Running into the house, I’m filled with dread when I see Morris’ door is open.

“No,” I pant as I race up the stairs, my entire body feeling as though I’m wading through quicksand suddenly. No, not yet. Not now. I run into the bedroom and nearly collapse when I see Morris on the floor, alive. He’s fallen out of the bed.

“Morris,” I pant out as I walk in with Jackson behind me. “W-what happened?”

“Ah, I was trying to get up to take a leak. I fell.” I furrow my brows at him.

“Morris, you go in a urinal bott–”

“I know that!” He snaps while trying to get up. “It’s on the damn dresser. I couldn’t get it.” Guilt fills me. Had I not been outside, I would’ve heard him call.

“Okay, Morris, let me help you up,” I say as I reach under his arms to heave him onto his bed.

“I’m sorry, girlie,” he mutters, and I know it’s because he wet himself. I scoff and give him a light, playful shove.

“Don’t be. I nearly wet myself coming in here, so it’s cool. Let’s get everyone out and get you cleaned up.” I turn to usher Dorothy and Jackson out when I see the look of complete shock on Jackson’s face. He continues to stare at Morris as if he doesn’t recognize him.

“Jackson,” I hiss out, motioning for him to follow me out with his mom. Once outside, I glare at the man, “Don’t stare at your father like he is some roadside attraction.” I snap, feeling protective over Morris suddenly.

I watch Jackson swallow and notice the glassiness in his blue eyes. “T-that’s my dad?” He gets out, and it sounds so choked. I look from him to a silently sobbing Dorothy.

“Yeah,” I say softly. “That’s your dad.” I barely get the words out of my mouth before Jackson’s face hardens, and he turns, storming off down the stairs.

“Jackson!” Dorothy sobs as he walks out the door, slamming it behind him. I give Dorothy a pat on the shoulder as she dries her eyes. “I should start dinner,” she whispers, and I nod slowly.

“Alright, I’m going to get him cleaned up,” I sigh and head back to the bedroom as I hear Dorothy softly speak,

“Alright, leave the clothes and sheets out here, and I’ll gather them up to clean in a bit. I was finishing up a chocolate cake for dessert tonight and need to go get it out of the oven.”

* * *

“Meals on heels! What are we watching tonight, old man?” I say as I open the door with a plate of chocolate cake in my hand. “I was thinking of a romcom.” At couple nights a week, Morris’ medication causes him some insomnia, and he can’t sleep. Being someone who would rather never sleep so as to avoid the nightmares, I sit with him, and we have movie nights. I place the giant piece of cake on the tray and sit next to Morris in his bed.

“I ain’t watchin’ no damn romcom. I wanna watch more of that horror movie with the guy in the mask.”

“Halloween, a man after my own heart. If I had one.” I wink while going through the apps on the television to find where it’s streaming. “Eat some of that cake because I ain’t sharing once the movie starts.” Morris chuckles and rests his head back.

“Jackson looked good, strong.” He mutters, and I have to force myself not to freeze up.

“Well, he does have Dorothy’s genes.” I joke, and he laughs.

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