I shut and lock the door behind us.
He strips down so that we're both naked, crawling into my bed and curling up behind me, sliding into me and moving until he's coming again, too.
We spend hours like that, naked, touching, kissing, fucking.
I don't even remember falling asleep.
But when my eyes open, and I see the blood on my steering wheel, my heart breaks just a little.
It feels impossible to leave Barron after that, like being separated from him and Raz both might just break me. So that next day, I repeat the script exactly, ending up naked in the chapel with Barron tasting me between my thighs, rising above me in the dark and the moonlight, fucking me with my palms pressed to the glass. Every night, I ask him back to my mothers' house, and he comes. He always comes. The only difference is that he picks a different painting to buy, every single time.
I do that for four nights, until, on the fourth night, I resist the urge to fall asleep for once, climbing out from under Barron's arm to look at his sketchbook again. There are some new drawings in the back I didn't see before.
One of them … is me, sitting on the podium inside the chapel as I did the first night. Every night, he draws me in a different place, and as I flip through, I see all four days represented somehow, someway.
My throat closes up as I curl up beside him and cry myself to sleep.
I don't repeat that same day again.
Waking up every day at the moment of the crash is exhausting. There is no respite for me, no early morning sunrise, no lying in bed and waiting for one of my moms to bring me coffee or tea. And it's not like I can take the day to nap and recuperate. If I fall asleep, I wake up right back where I started.
Over and over and over again.
Today, I hit the lock before Calix can get to me, and then head straight home.
Now my heart feels not only cracked, broken, but also torn. Looking at Raz makes me feel sick, looking at Barron makes me feel sick, looking at Calix has always made me feel sick. Today, I just want my moms.
“Karma?” Mama Cathy asks, sitting in the living room like she was on day … three, was it? I can't quite remember anymore, but the scene of her bent over a small canvas, bubble wrap heaped on the floor next to her, is one I recognize. But not just from today. This is a common occurrence. The moms order art from all over the world for their store in Eureka Springs. “What are you doing home?”
“I'm in desperate need of a mental health day,” I tell her, knowing that at least in this, the moms will understand. I don't have to make up an excuse or pretend I'm sick. God, I'm lucky to have a family that actually gives a shit about me.
Last time I came home during this stupid time loop, I was still bleeding. This time, I paused at a rest stop bathroom and cleaned up. No point in having the moms drive me all the way to the hospital, only to find out that I'm just fine.
“Is everything alright?” Jane asks, coming out of the kitchen, perfectly coiffed and put together as always. She's so damn meticulous that I decided to park Little Bee on the end of the driveway, facing away from the house, so she wouldn't see the damage and start asking about it.
Then again … there's no getting around that. No matter how many repeats I live of today, when I finally get to tomorrow, my car will be damaged. I'll have hit Calix's Aston Martin. It's inevitable.
“Everything's fine,” I say, setting my book bag down near the door and taking a seat in the comfy old recliner across from Mama Cathy. “I'd love some tea, if that's alright?”
Mama Jane smiles at me, one of those rare smiles of hers that feels like a hug. She doesn't smile much, but unlike Calix, it's not because she's trapped inside a mask of her own making. She just doesn't hand them out easily. When she does, they're spectacular.
“Of course I'll make you some tea. Darjeeling?”
“Please,” I say, feeling my heart thunder in my chest. For the last week of repeat days, I've managed to avoid the leaked sex tape of me and Calix. Either I ignore