Page 62 of Baby Girl
Or maybe I could put like, bulk purchases of bathroom products on there and then take them to the shelters myself? I know when I’d left my last group home, I hadn’t been thinking much beyond the next few hours, so when I’d landed at the shelter, I’d barely had enough stuff to get me through a few weeks. The shelter could use it to create bathroom kits or something.
God, I need to stop thinking about this. Seriously. I need to go back to sleep.
With a huff of irritation, I roll over and face away from the door, not bothering to pull the blankets up, and squeeze my eyes closed. Maybe I should count sheep or something.
One. Two. Thr—
There is a creaking noise just outside my bedroom, then my handle turns, the door pushing open quietly. For half a second, I freeze, all my options firing through my head faster than I could articulate them.
I could sit up and scream loudly at the door. That’ll get my message to Xavier, whether it’sStay the fuck out of my roomorHelp, there is someone in my room.
Or I could stay completely still, trust that it is Xavier, the creeper, and see what he does. Not that I have any data to compare this to, but statistically, I’m confident it’s him.
So, I opt for the second one. Taking a deep breath, I let it out noisily as I pretend to adjust in my sleep. There is complete and utter silence for several heartbeats before two steps and then the quiet thump and slide of something being put on my desk, I think?
Another gift. It has to be.
I don’t get time to ponder it, because Xavier comes to the bed. There is tugging and shuffling down near my feet before fabric trails up my legs and lowers over my body, the edge coming up to my bicep.
It’s a struggle, but I keep my breathing even and my eyelashes as still as possible as he stands there, his warm presence so close that if I reached behind me, I would be able to touch him.
My throat goes dry the longer he stands there, and I’m just about to cave and open my eyes when there is an almost soundless shuffle before he leaves the room, carefully closing the door behind him. The handle doesn’t even click into place when he releases it.
Not long after that, the door to the dorm room closes, not quite as quietly.
What the hell was that, and where the hell is he going at three-thirty in the morning?
Snapping to sit up, I reach for my phone and turn the flashlight on, aiming it directly at my desk.
A gift bag with a huge pink poofy bow. What is with these guys and the big bows? Seriously.
Like a zombie, I get out of bed, the sheet trailing behind me as I approach the bag like it’s a bomb.
Are they really going to send me seventeen gifts? A part of me really wants it to stop. I need a goddamn break. Every time a delivery arrives, my heart freaks the fuck out wondering if it’s from them or if it’s for Oakley. And every single time, I can feel myself slipping backward on any progress that I have made on my path to getting over them.
It’s like I’m hiking up a mountain and every time they reappear is when my feet slip and I slide back toward the bottom where they are waiting for me, when all I’ve ever wanted is for them to walkwithme.
Tugging on the ribbon, I untie it, pulling it free of the handles, and glance into the bag. There is an envelope inside, and I already know it’s another note from Hudson. Not sure my heart can take reading his words right now, I reach for the little box in the bottom of the bag.
It’s not much bigger than a ring box. Juggling my phone, I manage to snap it open and find a set of earrings. Emotion swells up in my throat and my eyes fill with stupid tears.
Tiny gold hearts shine back at me, each engraved with a different word.
Always. Forever.
Putting the box down, I pull the letter out of the bag, ripping the envelope open a little too vigorously. I quickly unfold the paper until I can see his handwriting.
Kitten,
Yes, before you can roll your eyes at me, I am aware that your ears aren’t pierced, but when I saw these, I had to get them for you.
Getting your ears pierced is something scary and can be frightening. People, especially children, usually take a friend or parent along with them for support.
If you would like to get your ears pierced, now or sometime in the future, even if we haven’t spoken in months or years, I want you to know that I would be honored to be your support person.
Hudson xx
Reaching up, I gently pinch the lobe of my ear, rubbing the smooth skin there. I have no idea why I never got my ears pierced before I entered the system. Had my mom not wanted it for me? Had she wanted me to wait until I was older? Or were piercings something she wasn’t into?
