I slipped into some pajama pants and a tank top and traipsed downstairs to Alexis who had screamed herself into a peaceful slumber. She looked like a sweet little angel laying there in her swing. Her pouty lips methodically moved in a sucking rhythm, soothing herself while she slept.
The first eight weeks of her life, we’d tried everything to pacify her. We tried getting her to suck her thumb. Didn’t work. We tried every single pacifier on the market. Didn’t work. We tried getting her attached to a certain blanket. Didn’t work. We tried letting her sleep with us at night. Didn’t work. We tried letting her cry it out. Didn’t work. We had tried everything. Nothing fucking worked. So after two stressful, nerve-wracking months of trying, Graham seemingly gave up and mentally checked out. While at times I hated him for it, I really couldn’t say that I blamed him. I just had the strong, maternal instinct inside of me that wouldn’t allow me to do that.
I lay on the sofa across from her swing. Maybe I could catch a quick nap while she slept. Even though it was late in the evening, my body craved sleep so badly that it didn’t matter if I napped so close to bedtime.
Almost as soon as I closed my eyes, Dixie jumped up on the recliner and barked at the kids riding by on their bicycles.
“Dammit, Dixie,” I hissed. “Shut up!” I threw a pillow at Dixie to get her to stop barking.
That worked momentarily, but within seconds Alexis was stirring in her swing.
“Stupid dog,” I groaned and threw another pillow at her head.
Dixie just looked back at me as if to say, “But did you see those kids, mom? That looked like fun! I wanna go outside! Can I go? Can I go? Huh? Can I go? Please!”
Her wagging tail, hanging tongue, and innocent eyes made me not hate her so much, but I was still pissed.
Despite being disturbed by Dixie’s barking, Alexis awoke in a great mood. She cooed and watched her toys hanging on the mobile above her swing with awe. I watched her eyes twinkle with wonder. My beautiful, angelic picture of perfection.
Sometimes I sat in awe, remembering those precious moments when I carried her in my womb and felt her kicking. I knew I should be thankful. Many women never got to experience such a precious miracle. Thinking of those nine amazing months while I grew another human being inside my body, I traced the fine lines of the stretch marks she’d left on my stomach. I really did love her, no matter how exhausted I felt. I just needed to get a few hours of sleep under my belt, and I knew I’d feel much better.
I finally dozed for a few minutes before Graham arrived with the pizza.
The only redeeming factor of going back to that woman’s office was to get out of this damn bunk, where the silence was maddening. Thoughts of Kaitlyn crowded my head, and I was losing my fucking mind. I walked down the hall toward Mrs. Honeycutt, dreading, yet appreciating every step.
“Good morning, Chris.” Her voice was far more chipper than I cared to hear.
“Mornin’,” I grumbled as I plopped down on her sofa. I didn’t wanna sit in that stuffy office with that woman staring at me like she expected me to open my heart and pour out my secrets. Whatever. Ain’t happenin’ lady.
I wasn’t saying shit. Even if she did smile at me with that cute grin of hers.
Dammit. Don’t look, Chris.
I stared at the floor.
Her smooth tone broke the silence. “I get it. I know you don’t want to be here. None of you boys do. But let’s just make the best of it, shall we?”
I rolled my eyes. “Whatever.”
This woman didn’t know me. She had no idea about the hell I’d been through. She didn’t get me at all. She had no fucking clue that my whole world was shattered the night Kaitlyn drove away from my house. I couldn’t have cared less about what happened to me from there on out. I just wanted to be back at East Jenkins with Kaitlyn. I was just going to do my time and then get the hell out of there.
“So, how are you today?” She grabbed her stupid-fucking-notebook off her desk and daintily swept her skirt under her thighs while she sat opposite of me in a chair.
“Fine,” I grunted. I didn’t even want to fucking be there, and yet there sat adorable little Mrs. Honeycutt, trying to get me to talk—trying to get me to hash out thoughts and feelings that I had no desire to divulge.
Screw that.
“So, we don’t have a lot of time together, as usual, but I’d love to spend a few minutes talking with you about home.”
Home? Damn.
She grinned and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, poising her pen to take notes. “So, can you tell me a little bit about your family? Mom? Dad? Siblings?”
I stared at her, unmoving. I’ll be damned if she’s gonna talk shit about my family in that fucking book of hers.