Call Me Back Home

chapter fourteen: his anger & her confession

I didn't know if I should really do it. I mulled it over a million times in my head. I let it bounce around in my brain for a few days, hoping I would come to a conclusion I liked. I didn't come to a conclusion I liked at all, but I came to the same one that kept reoccurring every night.

Tell him.

Tell Davey about Spot. About the way he treated me. Tell him everything. Add in that I care about Davey so he shouldn't go hurting anybody. Nobody gets hurt. Spot doesn't get hurt, which means no one gets hurt.

I stand from the end of Davey's bed, rubbing a hand over my face and sighing. The room is quite and empty, racket heard from the kitchen downstairs where breakfast is being made.

Davey's parents left early this morning to pick up his sister from their grandma Colgate's house. The younger sibling Sara has been away in France for four years with their Aunt Chèrie, studying literature. They would be back tomorrow morning, welcomed home by a big breakfast prepared by Davey and I.

Davey told me to stay in bed for a few moment longer, even if I wanted to help make breakfast special, because I had stayed up late with Elsie after she woke from a nightmare. I thanked him and rolled over to go to sleep, but still couldn't. I have too many thoughts rattling around. Everything in life seemed to continue to spiral out of control, into a whirlwind of dusty debris and solid rocks. A tornado picking up every challenge it can find and launching it full-force at my face like a bullseye. This is the one lull in the storm of life. Once split second of steady, peaceful rain before the downpour of hail.

I step across the room to Davey's chipped dresser and opened the drawer with his messy shirts in it. I grab the one on the top, plain white, and change into it. It falls over the same trousers I've worm to bed the past four nights. I curl my bare toes against the creaky hardwood floor and pull my hair up into a ponytail before I take one last deep breath.

You'll be fine. I swallow.

My feet pad against the floor as I walk down the steps to find Everett and Elsie playing with Les in the small living area in front of the large window. I turn the corner to the left into the tiny dinning room and then to the kitchen where the back door is swung open. I peer out of it to see Davey next to the big tree in their small yard. He's washing clothes in a wash bin, Ollie by his side trying to catch a few bubbles that float aimlessly. Davey whistles for himself.

A smile grows on my face and my heart beats giddily. My bones ache with the itchiness to go out and wrap my arms around him and pull him so close he can't breathe. I do so.

I'm there in a flash, my body launches onto his as my arms wrap around his neck, my chest to his back.
He laughs, wiping his hands on a towel hanging on the clothes line. I let go as Davey turns to face me, his cheeks high as he grins merrily. His lips touch mine, hot and soft. I hum into the kiss and pull away.

"How did you sleep?" I question and he pulls me closer to his chest.

Another kiss is planted on my lips before he answers. "Surprisingly well after you and Elsie fell back to sleep," he tells me, cheek pressed to my forehead.

I raise my eyebrows. "That was extremely early this morning."

He nods, biting his lip and then tilting his face to see me. I smile.

"I have to tell you something later." My voice sounds foreign. "Nothing too important."

Davey pulls me into a tight hug. "Okay." He presses a kiss to my forehead and pulls away, turning back to the washbin. "You sure it's nothing important?"

I hum a quick yes and then nonchalantly change the subject the his sister. He seems pleased to talk about her.

"It's been so long since we've seen her, she's probably so grown," Davey tells me, a huge smile on his face. "I'm quite excited for you to meet her. Sara will love you."

I smile to myself. It feels good to be appreciated.

~

I tuck Elsie and Everett into bed, the worn wool blanket covering their frames as they gently fall into a deep sleep. When I finally know they're completely asleep, I quietly make my way to Davey who sits on the edge of his bed, waiting for me to lie down first before he rolls over to cocoon me. As we share the same blankets, the same clothes, the same air, the same space, I realize how much he's given me and how much pain he's taking. He's replacing the bad with the good every moment we share together.

I nuzzle it's the boy's chest, my hands reaching for his hair and running through his brunet locks. He lets out a content sigh.

"Davey?" I whisper into the dark. "I need to tell you something."

His lips meet my forehead before he says, "Of course. What is it?"

I feel my heart pound, our eyes meet and I dare myself to say it.

Say it. Say it.

He looks at me so gracefully. He looks at me with care and admiration. With love.

The words roll from my tongue, scarring it. "It was Spot."

I watch his face contort into confusion. Then his green eyes turn cold and angry. Hands reach for my face.

"He what?" Davey questions me, his voice stern but soft simultaneously as not to harm me. "Y-y-you're yelling me it was Spot?"

I nod slowly, a little nervous about what he was going to say or how he was going to act. I didn't want him to get mad. I just wanted him to hold me, really. I just wanted to be kept warm, safe, unharmed.

"Okay," he let out the word breathily.

I watched as his green eyes moved to the window behind me, then they dropped to somewhere along the torn bedsheets.

"Davey?" my voice was small.

Davey's eyes glanced up at me. Then he wrapped me up and I felt at home.