"I think you did that all by yourself." Connie gazes around my room, eyes lingering on my parents’ wedding photo on the dresser. "You can't underestimate a woman's touch in making a home. I know I'm a terrible cook, but being at the center of my boys has brought light into all of our lives. You could have the same if you wanted it."
I sit on the soft comforter, watching Connie expertly care for her child, feeling very far away from being in the same position. "I'm not sure I could handle one man right now," I say. "My whole life feels like it's in a state of flux."
She shakes her head, scooping little Brett into her arms. "Until I met my boys, I could never imagine that I'd find someone who'd take the time to know my heart. But when you do, it's amazing. There has obviously been some kind of family breakdown here, so having someone to unite these brothers would be amazing. You definitely have the inner strength to handle them."
"I think you see me as something I'm not," I say, feeling very immature compared to the woman giving me advice.
"I've been told that I'm an excellent judge of character," Connie says, "but only you know how you feel." She raises her eyebrows, pushing a lock of straight brown hair behind her ear. "I'll give you six months, and if you haven't popped your cherry with at least one of these men, I'm bringing my friend Sandy to meet them. Maybe having a deadline will inspire you to sexy times." She chuckles mischievously again, and I can't help joining in.
Sexy times.
They've only ever existed inside my mind, and it will probably stay that way, despite Connie's confidence.
Six months. I can't even begin to imagine what my life will be like then. Will I even be here?
Who knows, but the competitive part of me, the foolish part that sometimes allows her mind to dream, wonders what it would like to follow the path Connie seems to see as my future.
8
It’s late, and I’m curled up in a comfy brown armchair that I’ve moved from the still-messy dining room into the kitchen. Big Boy is at my feet, curled up and resting. His soft breathing sounds are calming, although I’m beginning to worry about how much he sleeps. It would seem that Cary is too. I caught him sitting on the floor stroking Big Boy earlier, his expression in a far-away place. I imagined him remembering when they could run together through open fields, the sun’s rays glistening off Cary’s tan skin and Big Boy’s glossy coat.
I don’t know what’s come over me.
The book I’m reading could be responsible for my flowery thoughts. The store in town only stocks books that are easy reading; romance novels with cowboys on the cover and thrillers or murder mysteries with eerie covers and even scarier content. I’m not much for scaring myself with fiction. Life can be terrifying enough, and I’m a believer that what you put into your mind stays with you. I’d rather put in love than hate.
The novel I chose is a slow-burn romance about a preacher’s daughter who falls for a stranger to the town. It’s pretty obvious that he’s going to have a shady past that will come back to bite them. It’s predictable in a way that feels good for where I am right now. Every time I pick it up and slide between the pages, I feel safer.
Big Boy stirs as footsteps make their way down the hall. I thought everyone was asleep already, but I guess I was wrong.
It’s Cash who appears in the doorway, not realizing I’m here. He fixes himself a glass of water and glugs it down so fast that I worry he’s going to choke. When he’s done, he rests both hands on the countertop, bracing himself as he sighs long and deep. For a man who was laughing earlier, he sure seems to have the weight of the world on his shoulders now.
Big Boy makes a grumbling noise—he’s probably chasing rabbits in his dream—and Cash turns, his eyes widening when he notices me.
“You’re awake,” he says, straightening. He’s a man who knows how to put himself back together fast.
“I like this time,” I say. “When everything is done, and everyone is resting. The peace…it’s good for the soul.”
Cash nods, his expression thoughtful as his eyes drift from mine around the room. “This is the time that my mind fills with problems that need solving,” he says. “My brothers all fall asleep as soon as their heads hit the pillow, but it’s like the pillow is a reminder of everything I haven’t done.” He rubs his face, his tiredness so obvious it makes me want to run my fingers through his soft, brown hair and caress the back of his neck until his eyes droop.