Watch Over Me (18 page)

"I beg to differ. I would love to read anything you wrote because it came from you.
It came from your heart and your soul and it would be amazing," he tells me, bringing
his swing to a stop and angling towards me.

Reaching his arms out, he wraps his hands around the chains of my swing and pulls
me over to him until my legs are in between his own.

"If you could only write one story, one story that everyone would read, what would
you want it to be about?" he asks as he stares into my eyes.

"My life," I whisper. "Does that sound narcissistic? Writing a book about myself?"

He shakes his head at me and smiles. "Nope, not at all. It's life. It's the bumps
and the bruises, the pain and the fear; it's messy and it's real and it's not some
perfect little story that can be tied up in a bow. It's exactly what you should write
about. And I damn well better be the first one who gets to read it."

I laugh at him and do something I've wanted to do since we first got here. I lean
forward and press my lips to his. Sliding one hand around the back of his neck, I
run my fingers through his hair and hold his head against mine. While he grips tightly
to the chains of my swing to hold me in place, I take my time kissing him and touching
his face.

"Eeeeew, you guys are gross. You know you can get cooties that way, right?" Luke complains
from right behind us.

We break apart slowly and laugh at his disgust.

Zander lets go of the chains and I swing away from him.

"Why aren't you busy playing?" Zander asks Luke.

"I'm bored. I don't have anyone to play with."

Jumping off of my swing, I grab Zander's hand and pull him up, walking us over to
where Luke stands.

"I have an awesome idea. Something we can all do together," I tell him.

"Are you going to teach me how to flip?" he asks excitedly.

"Not yet," I tell him. "That's something you need to work up to."

Grabbing Zander by his arms, I position him so he's standing right next to Luke, and
then I move right in front of them so we're facing each other.

"Okay, boys, hands on your hips," I instruct.

They do as I say and I try not to laugh at how serious and cute they both look. Luke
is like a miniature version of Zander with dark hair and light eyes.

"Repeat after me. Go, fight, win."

They both say the words together, and when Luke messes up and starts to say them a
second time, Zander shoves him in the shoulder, and Luke punches him back in the arm.

"Wow, that really sucked. I couldn't hear you at all," I teasingly admonish them.

They don't hesitate to scream the words as loud as they possibly can, and Luke starts
coughing because of how high-pitched his voice goes.

"You both need some work, but we're moving on. Bring both of your arms up above your
head in the shape of a V, like this..." I show them, making fists with my hands and
raising my arms above my head.

Luke copies my movements immediately, but Zander stands there staring at me.

"Wait, are you teaching us how to
cheer
?" he asks in shock. "We're dudes. We don't cheer."

Lowering my arms, I saunter over to him until I'm right up against his chest, going
up on my tiptoes and sliding my breasts against him as I move. I place one palm on
his chest and lean to the side, placing my lips right against his ear.

"Pretty please, Zander? It would make me really happy," I whisper, letting my lips
gently graze his ear.

I pull back away from him, and he clears his throat and swallows thickly.

"Whatever the lady wants, the lady gets," he says in a daze as I smile at him and
skip back to my spot in front of them.

I spend the rest of the afternoon teaching them cheers and showing Zander a little
bit of who I used to be. I feel carefree, flirty, and happy. I've missed this part
of myself so much. I've missed being able to let go and just live.

"Thanks for taking Luke to the park with me," Zander tells me as he holds my hand
and we make our way to his car after giving into Luke and stopping off for ice cream
on the way home.

"Thanks for inviting me. I had a good time."

As Luke clamors into the backseat and busies himself with his seatbelt, Zander pulls
me against him and leans my back against the passenger door.

He stares at me without saying anything for so long that I finally can't take it and
break the silence.

"What?'

He slowly smiles at me before resting his forehead against my own. "I'm just glad
you're here," he tells me quietly.

"Me too," I whisper back.

And for the first time, I truly mean it. If I went through with my plans a year ago,
I would have missed out on all of these moments with him. They are becoming important
and special to me, and so is he.

I can almost feel some of the weight lifting off of my shoulders. I can practically
see some of my worries floating away, and it feels right. It feels like it's time
to finally let go of some of the pressure I've put on myself.

"
You can't control everything, Addison," Dr. Thompson tells me. "Sometimes things just
happen and you aren't responsible for them. I know it's hard when you want answers
and you don't get them."

No matter how many times she's told me this, it's still difficult for me to understand.
I want to know why my mother had to go so suddenly. I want to know why my dad couldn't
be strong. I want to know why it's so hard for me to move forward.

"You just need to remember that none of this is your fault. Your father is an adult
and makes his own choices. He didn't become an alcoholic because he didn't love you
enough; he did it because he didn't love
himself
enough. That's the hardest thing for families of addicts to understand. It's not
because of anything you did or didn't do. You've had a lot of responsibilities piled
on your young shoulders, and it sounds like your father is trying to make up for that.
He's trying to be a better person and prove that to you. Open yourself up to the possibility
that maybe he's finally ready to be the person you need. You can't
make
him want to be sober. You can't control the decisions he makes. All you can do is
live your own life and do what you can to make
yourself
happy again."

As the time winds down on our weekly session, I wonder once again if it's that simple.
In my mind I know I can't control the actions of others, but it's still hard not to
feel responsible sometimes.

"I know your faith used to be very important to you and that you've lost a little
bit of it along the way. Maybe it's time to start utilizing that cheesy slogan you
hate so much. 'Let go and let God.' I know we're doing these a little out of order,
but sometimes that's how it works. Step two:
Come to believe that a power greater than ourselves can restore us to sanity.
Hand over the reins, Addison. Let Him worry about the future and all the what-ifs.
Just let go."

My dad has been back home for a few weeks now and surprisingly has spent every single
day at the bakery. Unless he has a meeting or an appointment with his doctor, every
time I come in, he grabs me by the shoulders, turns me around, and sends me right
back out the door. The good news is I've had more time to spend with Zander. The bad
news is I spend the majority of that time worrying about things at the store and wondering
if everything is okay.

"Maybe I should call one more time before we leave," I tell Zander as I pace behind
him while he loads a picnic basket and blanket into the trunk of his car. I don't
worry too much when I'm just going to be out of cell phone range for a few hours,
but today we're going up into the mountains to hike and have a picnic. That's an entire
day of being away where he won't be able to call me if something goes wrong.

"We have a huge cupcake order for the Marshall wedding that's being picked up today,
and I need to make sure—"

"Sugar, I'm sure everything is fine. You're dad knows what he's doing," Zander interrupts
reassuringly as he closes the trunk.

I let out a huge sigh as he turns around to face me. He brings his hands around my
waist, clasping his hands together against my lower back, and pulls me up against
his chest. My hands slide up the front of his shirt until my right hand rests flat
against his heart, and I can feel it beating, steady and sure, under my palm.

"I know it's hard to let go and put your faith in him, but he's been doing good so
far, right?"

I nod my head in resignation and run my hands the rest of the way up the front of
him and settle my arms on top of his shoulders. We've spent a lot of time together
lately. We've done everything from dinner, movies, going for coffee, and building
more Lego houses to just sitting on his front porch together watching the sun set.
After he drops me off at my apartment each night, we spend hours texting each other
back and forth, just talking about our lives. I know he always wanted to work in a
hospital helping people because his grandfather had severe diabetes and his family
spent a lot of time visiting him when Zander was younger. He loved how even when someone
was gravely ill, the sight of a favorite nurse, doctor, or another hospital worker
could brighten them up and put a smile on their face. I know he takes being a big
brother very seriously. Even though he no longer lives at home, he spends a lot of
time with his brothers, together and individually, giving them advice and making sure
they stay on the right track.

I know so much about him, and I feel comfortable with him, but there's something in
the back of my mind warning me that maybe we're moving too fast. Maybe we're
too
comfortable with each other too soon. There are still two very important parts of
myself that I haven't shared with him yet: my mother and that day at the cemetery.
I know I need to tell him. I know I need to lay it all on the line so he knows what
he's gotten himself in to, but I just can't do it yet. I know that's the moment when
I'll finally see the understanding in his eyes replaced by pity and maybe even disgust.
I'm not ready for that yet. I'm not ready for him to look at me any differently. His
support and friendship mean too much to me right now to taint them with any more of
my problems and history. I'll tell him; I
have
to tell him. Just not right now.

"Let's just go have a nice picnic in the mountains, and then if you're good, I'll
let you go to the shop and check on your dad," Zander says with a wink and a smile.

He tightens his hold on me and my breath catches in my throat. It's the same thing
every time I'm this close to him. The feel of his body pressed up against mine sends
a rush of excitement and tingles through my belly that make me want to forget all
about our plans and just spend the day alone with him in bed. We haven't done much
more than kiss and some light exploration with our hands, but each time it makes me
feel alive and wanted, and I know he's the one I want to give everything to. He's
the only one who has ever made me feel this way, and I know it won't be long before
I give over another piece of myself to him that I've never given to another man. Every
time we're alone he makes sure to tell me that he doesn't want to pressure me into
anything and that it's up to me how far we go. I know it's insane to want to give
him something this significant and special when I haven't even given him the most
important part: the truth. I know taking this step with him is a way to make myself
feel alive again and that shouldn't be the reason I want to move forward with him,
but I can't help it. More than anything, I just want to feel something other than
dead inside. And I
will
give him the truth. Maybe once I take this next step with him, it will give me the
strength and courage I need to finally come clean.