Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 102479 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102479 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Sick. I’d been back home for five weeks now, and I hadn’t heard a single sniffle. And I stopped by every few days. I picked up one of the three prescription pill bottles sitting on the kitchen counter and twisted the cap open. Emptying the contents into my other hand, I counted the pills as I dropped them back into the canister. Twenty-nine left of the thirty-day supply I’d picked up five days ago. I walked over and stood next to the couch. “You need to take your medicine every day, too.”
“I do.”
I frowned. “I just counted them.”
“They’re trying to poison me, and you don’t even care.” My sister’s eyes filled with tears.
I was frustrated and tired, but I knew Catherine wasn’t just being difficult. She was ill. Managing her, or my mom, was like trying to catch a butterfly—I’d get close, but somehow they always slipped through my fingers. I sat down on the couch next to my sister. “Have I ever done anything to hurt you, Cat?”
She looked away but shook her head.
“And I never will. Look at me, Catherine.”
Her eyes met mine.
“The doctor is not trying to poison you. Those meds will help you feel better. Are you having trouble sleeping?”
She nodded.
“Do you feel anxious in your chest?”
She nodded again.
“Does everything feel too loud again? Like the TV and people talking?”
A tear streaked down her cheek, and she nodded more.
I held up the pill bottle. “These will make you feel better. But they take time to work, and you have to take them consistently.”
She still didn’t look sold, so I unzipped my backpack, pulled out my own pill bottle, and pointed to the label. “See the name here? I take pills, too, Cat.”
“Are you sick?”
“Not the kind of sickness you get, like a cold or the flu. I have something called PTSD. Post-traumatic stress disorder.” I rubbed over my breastbone. “I get that same anxious feeling in my chest sometimes—usually when I’m trying to go to sleep, and then I wind up staring at the ceiling all night. These help me when that happens. It makes me feel like I’m in control again.”
Catherine’s shoulders relaxed. She scooched closer to me on the couch and leaned her head on my shoulder with a sigh. “Are we going to be okay?”
“We are. But in our own way. Not everyone’s okay is the same.”
CHAPTER 28
* * *
Sutton
Jagger’s alarm went off at six the next morning, but I was already awake, lying on my side looking at him.
“Good morning.” I smiled.
He stretched. “I don’t remember the last time the alarm actually woke me up. I set it, but I’m always up before it goes off.”
“I’m glad you slept well.”
“You look like you’ve been up for a while.”
“Not too long. Maybe an hour.”
“Have you just been staring at me?”
“I’ve been thinking, actually.”
He kissed my forehead. “Uh-oh. That doesn’t sound good.”
I smiled again. “I want to come with you today.”
“To Ohio?”
I nodded. “I was serious when I said I’d like to help out with the girls.”
“Sutton—”
I pressed two fingers to his lips. “Before you tell me the million reasons why you’re not right for me and we shouldn’t get too close, I should tell you that I’m not taking no for an answer.”
His eyebrow quirked, and he nipped at the tip of my pointer. “Is that so?”
“Ow.” I pulled my finger back and shook it. “And yes. If you want to continue to be able to tell me what to do in the bedroom, you’re going to have to give elsewhere, so I don’t feel like everything is completely one-sided.”
Jagger grabbed my hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing the finger he’d just bitten. “I thought you enjoyed giving up control.”
“I do. I absolutely do. But I need to be heard, Jagger. I want to support you. It doesn’t mean I think you’re going to propose, or that we need to do every little thing together, but I do need balance to feel like I’m not being used.”
Jagger’s face grew serious. He looked into my eyes, and by some miracle, I kept from cracking. Eventually, he nodded. “Okay.”
My eyes widened. “Really? Okay? I thought you were going to be way more difficult than that.”
His eyes narrowed. “Are you saying I’m a pushover?”
“No. No. You’re more of a tyrant.”
Both his brows popped this time. “A tyrant?”
“Well, yes. You’re bossy.”
He shook his head. “I think you should quit while you’re ahead, Sutton.”
I grinned and pressed my lips to his. “Thank you for giving in. I really didn’t want to give up the mind-blowing orgasms.”
Jagger chuckled. He looked so much younger when he was relaxed like this. “We have to get on the road by seven thirty. The social worker is meeting me there at eleven, and it’s a two-hour flight.”
“I need to run home and get a change of clothes, take a quick shower.”