Survivor

Chapter Three

"Hey." I open the door for Cole and hand him the white-trimmed plate full of cookies.

He looks at me confused.

"I baked them," I say.

"I figured. But why?"

"I was in the mood."

"Um, ok. Thank you."

"Try one," I say.

He does, his hazel eyes widening. "Wow, these are good."

"I do bake." Why am I always defending myself?

"I know," he smiles, taking another bite.

I step closer to him and wipe the smudge of chocolate on his top lip. His eyes are glued to mine and I grin like the Cheshire Cat as I press my lips to his. He tastes sweet.

"You should bake for me more often," he murmurs against my lips. "I like it."

"If it pleases you then I will."

He nuzzles my neck. "Good."

"Yick."

We both turn our heads in surprise to see Emma standing at the foot of the cherry-brown wooden stairs.

"One day you'll have a boyfriend and won't find it to be yick."

"I might enjoy it, but it will always be yick," she replies.

"Whatever you say, squirt."

Emma hates it when I call her that.

"Yeah, yeah, butterball."

And I hate when she calls me that. Yet, we are still using these nicknames years later. I can't help it that she's a little squirt and that once upon a time I was a chuckly butterball.

I worked hard to lose the weight and I'm proud of where I am now.

Cole says it's hot to have some curves and not just to be stick and bones. I love Cole for that. I love him for a lot of things.

Sliding my hand in his, I say, "Why don't we go sit on the porch?"

"Sounds good to me." He smiles and we head outside.

A few years ago, Dad upgraded our small porch to a wraparound porch that goes until where the house jots out with the extension to the kitchen and family room. I love our porch. It's spacious. And my favorite part is the forest green cushioned swing.

Cole and I sit down, my right leg thrown over his lap. His large hand is on my thigh, slowly massaging. It feels good and I find myself sighing in content. It's a cool autumn evening but with Cole's body so close to mine I feel warm.

"Come move in with me," he says.

I'm not looking at him but I can sense his eyes on me. "We've discussed this before, more than once."

"I know. But look, you see now that you have no privacy here. We have no privacy. I love you and want you to share my space. So why won't you just move in with me?"

My eyes glance his way. He's watching me intently with those big, round hazel eyes with long dark lashes that look like spider legs. One of the first things I fell in love with were those eyes that could see right into my soul.

"You already know why," I begin, picking at the loose skin beside my fingernail. "My family needs me here, now more than ever. My room is right next to Emma's. What if something happens one night?... I'll be right there if she needs me. I can't leave her, not now. Maybe one day when she's all better. But not now. You know that."