Page 58 of Before I Tell You

And that was all just from a first glimpse inside, never mind the rest of the house.

But even with how ornate everything seems, there is something about this house that is welcoming and warm. In fact, it doesn’t just feel like a house; it feels like a home.

As I walk around, I notice that everything is spotless and seems to be in its proper place until I enter the kitchen. There’s spaghetti sitting in a cold pot of water, pieces of now soggy bruschetta on a plate, a salad wilting away in a large wooden bowl, a bottle of red wine uncorked on its side on the counter with its liquid now on the floor, chopped up onions and peppers in a skillet, and what appears to be a broken plate on the floor.

This is the scene Mrs. Spencer was envisioning having to clean when she returned home.

But there is no way I would be leaving this eerie reminder for her to see after coming back from the hospital.

I start looking around until I find the pantry where the broom is hiding and get to work. The shattered pieces from the broken plate sweep effortlessly into the dustpan, and I dispose of them in the trash, along with all the soiled food sitting out. Next, I get on my hands and knees to scrub the wine off the floor before washing the dishes in the sink and wiping down the counters. At this point, I look around, pleased that the kitchen is back in its original state.

A yawn escapes from me, and I realize how drained I really am. It’s been quite some time since I’ve stayed up this late, and I’m starting to feel the effects. So, I shut the lights off in the kitchen and begin my slow journey up Mount Kilimanjaro or, what I mean to say is, up the stairs, observing all the family pictures that line the wall until the final step.

There are a few staged family portraits that look like they’ve been taken over the course of several years. Everyone has perfect smiles on their faces and matching outfits like they are posing for an ad in a JC Penny catalog. But my favorite pictures are the candid ones. The ones that look like no one knew the picture was even being taken.

In particular, there is an image of Natalie that captures my attention. She is lying in a grassy field, holding a fluffy white dandelion, and laughing as if someone had just told her the funniest joke she’d ever heard. She has no makeup on and is wearing a simple white dress; her long blonde hair is splayed out around her. And she is breathtaking. Absolutely breathtaking.

Natalie’s family seems very close to each other, which makes me feel a little envious. But at the same time, it comforts me to know that there really are families like this out there in the world. Normal. Happy. Loving. They aren’t all messed up like mine.

Maybe Natalie and I will be lucky enough to have a family like this someday.

Wait! What?The brakes in my brain immediately slam down before I can continue this thought.

God, what happened to the guy who used to heave at the idea of being committed to one person? Who used casual hookups as a distraction from everything else going on in his life? Who didn’t think he was worthy enough to be loved?

He found Natalie. And she turned his whole world upside down. That’s what fucking happened.

I shake my head, laughing at myself. Then I notice a serene picture of Natalie’s dad sitting in a chair at the beach. Relief fills me, knowing that he is going to be ok. It would have destroyed Natalie if anything more serious had happened to him tonight, which, in turn, would have destroyed me.

When I finally reach the top of the stairs, I go to the end of the hallway where I see Natalie’s bedroom door sitting partly open. I walk in and head straight for the cloudlike bed.

I lift my shirt over my head and unzip my jeans, letting them fall to the floor. Her bed is perfectly made, so I pull back the blankets then slide under the covers, enjoying the feeling of her satin sheets against my skin. The pillows smell just like her, surrounding me with an intoxicating aroma of apples and peaches, which causes an ache in my core for Natalie.

All of my five senses are wishing she was here beside me. In fact, they are begging for her. Needing her.

Damn, I wonder what it feels like to run my hands over her soft pu—

Nope.

I am not about to jerk off in Natalie’s bed.

Don’t even think about it, Nate.

After running my hands over my face in frustration, I pull the covers up tightly around my turned-on body and move around until I find a comfortable position on my side. I sigh as my head molds to her thick and very supportive pillow, helping release some tension.

Today really had been quite draining.

Before I returned to campus, I spent the morning making sure my mom and brother were situated at my aunt and uncle’s house, who live just a few towns over. I felt so conflicted about leaving them with my unhinged and very erratic father still out there, but my mom insisted they would be fine if I went back to school. I still couldn’t help but feel guilty for not staying with them.

When I returned to my dorm, I felt pretty tired. Actually, if I’m being honest, I was completely worn out. Exhausted. Mentally and physically. My body had begged me to climb into bed, but after the week I just had, I thought going to a party would help take my mind off things. Release some of the tension that had been slowly building up.

And man, it was good I showed up at Theta Phi’s house when I did. I was at the frat house for no more than ten minutes when I spotted Natalie in the kitchen.

As worn out as I am at this very moment, I still find myself getting achingly hard at the thought of her.

I remember raking my eyes over her every curve. Natalie’s jeans hung on for dear life to her perfectly voluptuous hips, while her cleavage was begging to be free of the tight black top she was wearing. Her long blonde hair, usually pin straight, hung in perfect waves, framing her face. My eyes moved to her plump lips, which looked ready for a taste before my gaze moved up to her eyes.

It was her eyes that told me something was wrong.

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