"Two souls are sometimes created together and in love before they're even born." -F. Scott Fitzgerald
When eight year old Beau Ruby met twelve year old Colton Caine, she had no idea she was meeting the love of her life. She had no idea she'd grow...
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Colton wasn't lying about getting me up and out of bed. When Monday morning came, there he was, asleep next to me when I hazily opened my eyes. His hand was still resting on the top of my head, and I tilted it backward to kiss his palm. The gesture woke him up, and he quickly moved his hand away from me.
We were in such a weird place. I could tell that he felt it, too. I loved him. I didn't think I'd ever stop. He kept doing little things to take care of me. He kept touching me. He kept acting like he wasn't engaged.
I loved every moment. Despite the grief I felt, I loved the spark that had somehow ignited between us between us. It came and went, though, and there were times when I felt like he realized what he was doing and it bothered him.
As promised, he got me up.
He got up, first. I heard him, moving around the house in his usual morning routine. He padded downstairs for coffee. He took a shower. He got dressed in the bathroom, but he was barefoot and his hair was damp when he entered my room again.
I could smell his soap, and I knew that he had brought his own things over from his house rather than leaving me each day to go home and shower. Once again, I was confused. Why would he do that?
He moved to my dresser, opening drawers and retrieving things from places he knew by heart. It was automatic the way he did it. As if years hadn't passed between us. First, he bunched up the legs on a pair of old, worn leggings and rolled them over my feet and up my legs. Then, he carefully placed thick, wool socks over my feet.
He gently pulled me out of bed and to my feet, careful not to jostle me too much. We took the stairs slowly, one careful step at a time. It seemed like a lifetime since I had gone down them. When we reached the bottom, he stepped away from me. He disappeared into the kitchen, and I was left standing near the front door.
I looked around at the living room, so familiar, yet so foreign. Every inch of this house reminded me of Aunt Verne. I took a few steps toward the fire place, running my hand over Aunt Verne's sewing basket in the corner as I did. I felt my eyes welling up again.
"Mornin', kid."
His voice made me jump. I yelped, startled, and I heard Colton running from the kitchen. I turned my eyes, and Jack was sitting in the corner of the couch, still in his flannel pajama pants, raising a cup of black coffee to his lips.
"What happened?" Colton exclaimed, barreling back into the room.
Jack smirked from where he was sitting. "I just said good morning to her..."
I shook my head, looking at Colton. "I'm fine. Sorry..." I turned my eyes to Jack. "He scared the hell out of me. I didn't know you were both here."
Jack nodded. "Of course we are. Neither of us have left except when I went home to grab some of our stuff."
The news was comforting. My boys. Here around the clock, just in case I needed them.
