and when I got up, there was a note on the kitchen table for me. Robbie had liked the school yesterday—so much so that they were taking him back. For good.
That was that.
I got no say in the matter.
Ryan came over in the afternoon, and we hung out in my room most of the time. There was kissing, but also video games, cookie dough, pizza, and sneaking some wine. Okay, lots of wine and lots of kissing, and I ended up putting a note on my door telling my folks I was sleeping before I snuggled up with Ryan the rest of the night.
And kissing. There was still more of that, but there wasn’t anything heavy.
When I woke Monday morning, I glanced at the clock. Six AM.
Ryan was already on the edge of the bed, bent over. His shirt was on, but it wasn’t pulled all the way down. He was fixing his shoes.
I sat up, tugging his shirt into place and letting my fingers skim his back as I did.
He glanced at me, his eyes darkening, the look of lust there that I’d started to recognize from Saturday night and yesterday.
“Morning,” he murmured. Leaning over, he kissed me.
“Hmmm.” I pulled back, scrunching my nose. “I have morning breath.”
He laughed, grabbing my arm and tugging me back to him. “You’re fine.” And he showed me, his lips finding mine again and not letting me move away.
I was panting in a second, feeling all sorts of tingles in my chest when he groaned, pulling away.
He rested his forehead on mine. “I gotta head home to change and get ready.” He sat up again, his eyes holding mine. “First day of school. You want a ride?”
I opened my mouth, figuring my parents would take me, and then I remembered they were probably headed to work already.
“Yeah.”
“Okay.” He nodded, opening my window. “I’ll be back around seven thirty.”
“Okay.”
His lips curved in a crooked grin before he was out the window and down the tree. I heard his truck start up a moment later. As it turned down the street, I lay back in bed and stared upward. I wasn’t looking at the ceiling. I wasn’t really looking at anything.
I was . . . I didn’t know.
We didn’t have sex last night, but our shirts had come off and jeans were unsnapped. I got up halfway through the night to put on pajama pants and a sleeping tank top. Shortly after that, the top was pulled off and pants pushed down a bit. Ryan had shucked his jeans off, but he kept his boxer briefs on. He held me, chest to chest, and I slept.
He was gone, and my limbs felt heavy, my lips swollen. I could easily sleep the rest of the day away. I felt content until I heard the floor creak outside my door. There was a knock, and I sat up.
“Honey?” My mom.
Whoa. I reached for my sleeping tank and tugged it on. “I thought you were gone already?”
“We’re leaving in a few, but are you going to be okay to get to school? Do you need a ride?”
“No. I’ll be fine.”
She didn’t ask if I wanted to talk about Robbie. I shouldn’t have been surprised. My biggest battle had been the counseling sessions. After that, it was like they’d learned not to even give me a chance to voice my opinion.
I listened to them move around the house.
I’d been with them for eighteen years. I knew their routine. My dad made the coffee. My mom made the toast. My dad would eat that and a yogurt, and then they’d finish getting dressed. They’d take the coffee with them. I heard keys jingling while they discussed who would come to say goodbye.
My mom must’ve won because my dad’s heavy footsteps came up the stairs.
A slight knock. His voice was muffled through the door. “We’re heading out. You’ll call if you need anything.”
It wasn’t a question. He wasn’t asking, and he didn’t wait for a reply.
Again, no word about Robbie. Did they not think I’d be affected by that? Then again, I didn’t know what was going on in my dad’s head anymore.
Did he leave feeling as if he’d fulfilled his good-father role? Or did he go off not thinking about me at all? As if checking on me were another part of their routine for the morning? Because it was. They’d always checked on Robbie and Willow . . . and there was usually something happening there that kept their