“Quit apologizing. It’s not about you.” I regretted the gripe before it left my lips. I hate who I am these days. I don’t know why he puts up with me.
“Are you okay?”
No, I’m not okay. My head hurts, my leg hurts, I might puke on your kitchen floor, and I’m turning into Jekyll and Hyde without warning. I’m scared this is still happening, and now your sister needs you more than I do. Which is probably a good thing for your sake. I couldn’t say any of that, so I mumbled, “I’m fine.” Clutching my crutch in a tight grip and praying I’d make it out of sight, I trudged to the hallway, calling the dogs behind me.
Somehow, by keeping my free hand braced on the wall, I made it down the hall and into my room. When I closed the door behind me, the floor was closer than the bed. I put my shoulders to the wall, stuck my bad leg out, and slid down to my ass with a thump.
Footsteps paused outside my door. “Need a hand?”
I wanted to reply cheerfully, Sure, on my dick, but the last thing I wanted then was sex. Not to mention the teen sister in the bathroom. “Nope. Get some sleep.” And to prove I wasn’t entirely Hyde-monster, I added, “Good night.”
Brooklyn hesitated, then said, “Good night.”
I heard his door open, then close.
“Well, crap.” I raised my good knee and rested my forehead on it, waiting for the spinnies to fade.
Eb tried to lick my face, which wasn’t helpful but he meant well. Chili jumped onto the bed, as if she knew I was in no shape to remove her, and Twain stood by, tilting his head back and forth and whining under his breath. Xandra gave me a blue-eyed stare from the spare pillow.
My little family. Really, I didn’t need anything more. I was a mess and Brooklyn would be busy for the foreseeable anyhow. My stomach twisted and I dry heaved, but luckily nothing else.
I heard Cheyenne come out of the main bathroom and go into her room. Heard a few thumps and sounds and then silence. Eb lay down beside me and agreed to pillow his big head on my ankle and not my aching thigh. Twain curled up against my hip.
Eventually, the bout of vertigo eased enough for me to make it to the bed and stretch out. I should’ve checked my bandage, since I’d skipped it, falling asleep beside Brooklyn…for a moment I ached for how sweet and hopeful that’d felt, lying warm and sated with a man I cared about close against me. But reality had intruded. No surprise. I closed my eyes and tried to relax each muscle one by one. My leg could wait till morning.
I had my bandage changed, the fur-babies fed, the dogs let out into the yard, coffee brewing, and bread in the toaster when Brooklyn wandered into the kitchen next morning, rubbing his eyes.
“That alarm goes off way too early,” he muttered. He smiled at me, but only half wattage and he didn’t cross the room to kiss me.
Well, of course not. That’s not how we are.
I said, “You could sleep an extra half hour if you didn’t drive me to work.”
“But I’d have to get up half an hour earlier to make breakfast so it’s a wash.”
Cooking didn’t take half an hour, but I’d take that rationale. I set juice, coffee, toast, and jam at two places and eased down into my seat. Xandra stalked in and made a leap at the table. I caught her with the ease of long practice and hid my face against her fur for a few moments before setting her down. Once she was on the floor, I gave her a swipe of butter off my toast as a reward, then finally looked up.
Brooklyn eyed me and I saw concern cross his face, so before he could say anything, I jumped in with, “You look pretty tired. Didn’t sleep well?” It wasn’t a lie. We could’ve had an eye-bags contest and he might’ve won.
“Not really.” He rubbed his face, then sucked down some coffee. “God, that’s good.”
“Your coffee-maker.” Keeping the focus off me, I asked, “Do you have any idea why Cheyenne is here?”
“Sanctuary from my parents, I expect.” He sighed, then began nibbling his dry toast.
I kept quiet, because I knew all about not wanting to discuss family. I pushed the jam his way and got a sweet smile in return.
But somewhere around the fifth bite, he began talking down toward his plate, not looking at me. “My parents are…weird. The little town where I was raised in upstate New York has a long history of preparing for the worst. The hills around us are riddled with caves, and as far back as World War Two, the locals stocked those caves to hide out in. For resistance, when the Japanese or the Germans invaded.”
“Not completely foolish,” I suggested.
“No. But then…” He sighed. “The enemy changed, but the town didn’t. We were going to be the last bastion against communism, the last survivors when the USSR dropped the bomb. Now it’s the globalists and Bill Gates, Soros, and the New World Order. When the UN invades America, Piperston will be the loyal defense for truth, freedom, and the American way.” He gave me a smile that held no real humor, bared teeth below sober eyes. “And woe to anyone who doesn’t see the clear and present danger.”
“From the UN?” I had to say. “They can’t even manage to keep small ethnic groups from trying to wipe each other out.”
“Right?” Brooklyn ran a hand over his head. “But that conspiracy mindset is so ingrained, and there are a thousand online sites grinding out the propaganda. My parents and neighbors are true believers.”
“Like a cult?” I didn’t like the bleak look on his face.
