Watty's 2019 !! - CURRENTLY UNDER EDITING (SLOWLY)
ORIGINALLY CALLED FINDING HOME (NOW SEQUEL'S TITLE)
When Paisley Evans moves from New Orleans, Louisiana to Oregon, Portland, can she fight the instinct she's grown to have to close herself off to o...
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"Thanks, Mrs Mendoza... yep, just for the night. Thank you, I'll drop some clothes at the school for them." Xavier talks on the phone to Peyton's babysitter.
"The kids are settled for tonight, we can pick them up some clothes and drop them at the school, alright?" He tucks his phone back in his pocket and grips my shoulders.
I told him before that we needed more time than what we have left of school to fill him in on everything, and he agreed.
Turns out, he actually said he had some stuff to tell me too and that he didn't want Peyton in the house when he told me. So, it was decided.
Xavier called Mrs Mendoza, Peyton's first babysitter, and organised for the kids to stay there the night instead.
"C' mon let's go get them some clothes and drop them off, we can tell them we're going to a party or something, alright?" Xavier extends his hand to me, helping me up from the ground.
"M'kay," I mumble nodding my head and letting him pull me to his car.
Opening the door for me, he waits until I'm buckled in before he closes the door and jumps into the driver's seat.
The drive to his house is short and silent. Only the purr and hum of the engine filling the air.
Xavier goes in and packs a bag for the kids, and I stay in the car. It feels like a scene out of a movie where everything is time-lapsed and moving around me, yet I'm stuck in the same place.
When Xavier comes back, he throws the bag in the backseat and we're off to the kid's school. Our surroundings blur around us and it's when Xavier's hand lands on my thigh, squeezing it, do I come back to reality.
I stare at his hand and back at him. He smiles despondently and squeezes my leg again before turning back to the road.
The warmth of his hand seeps through the fibres of my jeans, keeping be grounded to now. Keeping my thoughts from wandering to that dark place they frequent. Though, not as much as it used to.
Flipping his hand over, I lace our fingers together and keep our hands rested on my thigh.
He squeezes my hand and I hold his in a firm grip.
