I stared back at the house.
What was I so scared of?
That I might remember? Yeah, maybe.
That Trey was hoping this would jog my memory and I would only let him down? Yeah, that wasn’t a fun thought.
That while those three picture frames above my bed stared holes into my soul—going into that home, my forgotten world, might feel like enduring a pointless chase for a reality I couldn’t reclaim as my own… But unless I took a chance, I wouldn’t know anything for sure.
I sucked in a deep breath. “I’ll go in if you hold my hand the whole time,” I whispered, my grin perking up.
Trey’s face split into a wide smile. “Of course.”
22 Gulps And MILFs
Maybelle
The drive back from the Mason home was quiet.
The setting sun was now only a soft orange glow in the West, making way for the stars and moon to be seen over the city lights. I held tightly with one arm to a small backpack Trey had found in that house and stuffed full of random items I hadn’t yet seen.
While he went into the small home, down a hallway where I lost sight of him, I remained in the front room where a couch and an armchair near a window stood. Atop the cushion of the armchair was a dust-ridden, self-help book. The same copy I remembered seeing Chelsea read before dinner some nights.
Inside, the home was dark. It had a lovely citrus and cinnamon aroma about it, like someone recently burned a candle or doused the walls and cushions in perfume.
The home wasn’t messy, just from the looks of the first room I stayed in, but it was mucky. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling. Tables and chairs were coated in a thin layer of dust. Despite the lack of cleaning, the house was definitely, at some point, a home, a safe place for a family of three.
I thought I would be overwhelmed with emotion upon entering the house, but I was indifferent, unfamiliarto my surroundings. I didn’t care for it—which was a relief.
I held to my conversation with Chelsea from the other day. It helped me enter the home without panic. The knowledge that even if this place could never feel like home for me, I did, in fact, belong somewhere.
I had a home. I had my people.
So, I wasn’t racked with guilt or burdened by curiosity to investigate the bones of my forgotten past. I only waited patiently for Trey to gather the things he wanted.
The ride back home, Trey held my other hand, his thumb swiping back and forth across my knuckles. We didn’t talk, only sat in tranquil silence until we were home, standing in front of my bedroom door.
I handed the backpack to him, but he gently pushed it back toward me. “I got that for you. You don’t have to go through it yet, but I think you’ll appreciate the items inside.”
I pulled the pack against my chest. “Thank you for tonight, Trey.”
We were in the hallway, but my bedroom door was open to the window on the far wall that allowed the pale glow of the moon to paint across Trey’s face.
He revealed a slanted grin before his hand was up, his fingers brushing a couple of curls out of my face. I ducked my head to hide my giddy smile and the obvious butterflies fluttering in my gut.
His hand moved from my hair to cup my cheek. I watched him patiently, my stomach aching with anticipation as I studied his every move. His focus was on my lips.
“I guess we should tell Chelsea we’re home. I bet she’s wondering where we are.” The statement had leapt from my mouth, unbidden. My nerves were exploding with the need to ramble—to distract.
Trey’s soft, crooked grin turned wide and smug as he inched closer to me. “Mom is at work. I texted her wemade it home.”
“Oh, so, she’s not here?” I asked, voice cracking.
He shook his head, his other hand now curving over my hip. “Nope, it’s just you and me here, May.”
Gulp. Yes, I gulped.
“Are you headed back to school tomorrow?” I really could not control myself, but Trey didn’t seem fazed as his face neared mine.
