Undeserving (Undeniable #5)(53)

The statement alone had been enough to make her melt.

Dragging in a slow, dizzying breath, Debbie rolled onto her back and stared up at the arched ceiling. She didn't just like kissing Preacher. She liked him.

Last night she hadn't realized exactly what had made her run off like she had. Why she'd felt so flustered. So overwhelmed. 

Now she knew.

She never thought she'd feel this way about a boy-a man. Actually, she'd never realized she could feel this way. Debbie hadn't fit in with the girls she'd gone to school with. She'd never understood their incessant talk of boys, their obsession with them. The last thing she'd wanted to do was go to second base with Roger Campbell beneath the bleachers.

The last thing she'd wanted was anyone touching her.

She supposed that things were different for those who had a say in who got to touch them.

But here, with Preacher, free from the things that had haunted her back home and while alone on the road, Debbie was free to feel …  whatever she wanted to feel.

And what she feeling was a lot. Too much, really. Dozens of feelings all at once, none of which she had a name for, let alone knew what to do with.

It was more than just Preacher. Meeting his family, his club, had made her feel even smaller than she was used to feeling. Ginny and Gerald, Sylvia and Joe, even Tiny, they each had such a strong individual presence. But combined?

Debbie pressed a hand to her belly and blew out a breath. Jealousy was a bitter pill to swallow.

What she wouldn't give for a family just like this one. A loud and joyful, angry and messy …  family. Imperfect, yes. But also perfect in their imperfections.

Feeling inspired, Debbie rolled over and rifled through her bag. Pulling out her notebook, she propped herself up, flipped to a clean page, and began to draw.

First she drew the picnic tables, then she began to sketch the people seated around them. She drew Gerald at the head and Ginny beside him. She drew them all as best as she could recall.

The sky lightened as she drew, illuminating the inside of the tent with a soft, golden glow. Debbie chewed endlessly on her bottom lip, eager to scratch out the image in her mind.

Finally she drew Preacher approaching the gathering. She drew him as if she were a spectator, standing behind him, unable to see his face.

And when she finished, she did something she'd never done before: she titled it. In the bottom corner, in scrolling cursive, she penned: FAMILY.

For some time she simply stared down at her work. It was far from her best. She'd drawn it much too fast. And she'd most certainly screwed up a few features drawing the faces of people she'd only glimpsed briefly.

But it was also one of her best.

Because there was more to it than serving as a mere visual reminder of the people she'd met that day. From the frown on Gerald's face as he watched Preacher approach, to the joy on Ginny's as she shot up in her seat, it was chock-full of everything that made this family what it was.

With a heavy sigh, Debbie put her notebook away and grabbed her things. While exploring last night, she'd discovered showers inside the bathhouses, and she meant to get in as many hot showers as possible before they weren't possible anymore.

• • •

The bathhouses were two-room brick structures. The first room was filled with toilet cubicles and sinks, and the second housed showers. There wasn't much privacy in the shower room, no doors or curtains, only partial stalls within a small alcove that did little to hide you. It reminded Debbie of her school locker room, where everyone had been forced to change and shower in front of their classmates. Back then she hadn't wanted anyone to see her naked.

She didn't mind so much anymore; she was simply glad for hot water.

Freshly showered, Debbie had just finished dressing and was finger-combing her wet hair when she heard a noise and turned.

"Oh!" Sylvia paused mid-step and blinked at her. "I know you …  Debbie, right?" Her large belly preceding her, Sylvia looked exhausted and bedraggled. Dark circles ringed her eyes, and her shoulder-length brown hair stuck up in all directions.



       
         
       
        

"I haven't been able to sleep a wink since we arrived," Sylvia complained as she moved toward the shower stalls. Pausing by a bench, she set down a large purse and began pulling out the contents one by one.

Biting down on her bottom lip, Debbie's gaze touched covetously upon each of the items Sylvia had laid out-a towel, a bar of soap, a bottle of shampoo, and a bag full of makeup-and probably took for granted.

"This baby in here," Sylvia said, absentmindedly rubbing her belly, "is constantly movin', always kickin' me. I have to pee all the time, and everything aches.