He was right, but it was worse than just not being able to look at my reflection. “I don’t want a kid to inherit that nose or my lack of boobs and stand in front of a mirror feeling like I did. I don’t want them to stand in the bathroom, staring at a razor and thinking it would be a messy way to die, and then feeling guilty that Mom would have to clean it all up. I went through every scenario I could think of, all of them ending with me dying, just because of two things that I didn’t like about myself. I don’t want to pass that onto a child.”
His eyes narrowed as he watched me, his brain ticking away. “Mental health and problems like it aren’t a competition, and I keep hearing you make it out like yours mean less than mine—”
“No,” I interrupted him. “The cause of the problems is petty in comparison to yours. Surely you can understand that.”
“No, I can’t. Problems affect people in different ways, and what doesn’t affect one person can cause huge issues for another. Take social media and the effects of bullying on it. Some people can withstand it, take the hits, and shrug it off without suffering. Others can’t. We don’t get to decide what affects us, Ari, or how it affects us. Other people in my situation might’ve been able to just lock the door at night with Dale in the room and not give a fuck. I couldn’t. They might have dropped it when they moved out, but it’s made me careful about who I trust to the point there aren’t many people I do trust.”
Damn it, he was making too much sense. He was also telling me something I’d thought about but then tucked away in a little bag.
“I know you’re trying to be supportive, baby, but you’ve got to also stop looking at your own issues as petty or less. You’re supporting me and helping me through it all, and I’m doing the same to you. That’s how relationships work.”
Blowing out a breath, I nodded and gave myself a mental kick in the ass. “You’re right. I just sometimes look at it and think how silly it was to be so affected by something like that.”
Rolling so that he was lying on top of me, he lifted a hand and ran his thumb along the hair above my ear, his eyes watching it move. “It kills me that you ever looked at yourself as less, because the Ariana Townsend I knew back then definitely didn’t need to make the changes you made. That said, I love that you’re happy with how you look now, and I want that happiness to continue.” Then his eyes moved so that they were staring directly into mine. “I also think it’d be a crying shame for you not to pass your beauty onto a child of your own, but if that’s what you really want, then that’s your choice. But I want you to think about it and maybe speak to your therapist again, okay? There’s always adoption as another option because your beauty doesn’t just start and end on the outside. Making final decisions like that can lead to regrets, and I’m a firm believer in life being too short for regrets.”
Nodding, I took on board what he’d just said. “It doesn’t really apply to life right now, but when it starts to, I’ll go and see him again.”
“Good,” he said through a smile and then started to slide down me, stopping when he got to my crotch.
“What are you doing?” I snickered, tugging the t-shirt back down when he lifted it.
“Checking out these panties. I want to memorize every detail on them.”
“That’s today’s excuse. What’s tomorrow’s going to be?”
“It’s going to be a celebration of bringing Gaynor and Sneezy home, and you going to get your gaming shit from where it’s hidden.”
Just the reminder of both of those things was exciting, but adding onto it that he was going to be doing this all over again tomorrow? Hell, I’d order underwear every day for him to memorize.
“I feel a celebratory underwear order coming on,” I warned him, chuckling when he looked excited at the prospect.
“Can I help pick?”
“You can do whatever you want!”
Those were famous last words because that’s what he proceeded to do and blow my mind twice. The last thoughts I had as I fell asleep curled up beside him was that I might even look at other underwear sites if he enjoyed them that much.
Thirteen
Parker
It’d been four days since we’d collected Gaynor and Sneezy. Ariana had been tense as she watched Hanky and Panky play with them in the house, but it was quickly evident they didn’t have an issue with the new additions. Far from it! Those two little hellions loved it, and the four slept in a tight ball of canines and goats at night. Heck, for the first time since things had changed between Ari and me, I’d seen Jerry moving around the house. And I can’t even describe how bizarre it was to come back from a midnight bathroom trip to find him standing on top of Gaynor, doing that cat kneading thing on his back.
That wasn’t the only change in the cat, either. At three o’clock this morning, I’d woken up to a bizarre sensation on my crotch. Initially I’d thought it was Ariana, but when I felt the sharp pricking that accompanied it, I’d slammed my hand down on the button on the lamp beside my head to make sure no one was in the room with us. Turns out, Jerry had been doing the same thing he did on the goats to me. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it, slightly used in some ways, so I was avoiding thinking about it. Ari found it hilarious, but I seriously couldn’t even look him in the eye now.
Because it was Sunday, Ari’s family had come over to help build the goats' new pirate boat adventure thing we’d bought them. Well, kind of. In reality, the women read the instructions out to the men, the men put it together incorrectly, they took it apart and put it back correctly, and Erica and Linda worked on setting up lunch because they didn’t want to ‘be a part of that shit storm.’ They also had the fun job of looking after the younger kids while the ones old enough to play chased after the goats and jumped over the tires we’d put in the ground for them yesterday. It was chaos but of the perfect kind.
Now, Cole, Tate, and Archer were manning the barbecue while everyone else cooled down inside. I’d decided to stay outside with Noah, Hurst, and a bottle of beer to watch the goats playing with Noah’s daughter, Jamie.
“Things going okay with you and Ari?”
We’d been discussing Sadie’s car and all of the work needing to be done on it, so Hurst’s question came out of the blue.
Holding the bottle loosely between my thumb and index finger, I fought back the huge grin that wanted to break free. “They are.”
“She seems more settled and definitely happier,” Noah mused, frowning as he watched his daughter bend over every couple of feet as she followed the goats to grab something and put it in the pocket of her pink shorts.
That observation broke the fragile hold I had on my smile. “I’m doing my best to keep her that way.”
“Gotta say, son, I’m relieved to see you looking happier and more settled. It’s a good look on you,” Hurst muttered.
“Sunshine!” Jamie screeched, throwing her hands up in the air.
“Ah, fuck. Again?” Noah groaned, looking over at Hurst. “You take her this time.”
“Hell no. She’s your kid.”
All three of us stood up and walked over to her, the two of them still arguing about who was going to deal with her. I had no idea what her definition of sunshine was, but apparently, neither of them wanted any part of it.
“I don’t get what the issue is?”
Falling back behind his grandson, Hurst grabbed my arm to let Noah go on ahead of us to where Jamie was now bending over again to pick something up.
“Sunshine’s what she says when she needs to s-h-i-t, so you’ve got to sing Pocketful Of Sunshine for her while she does it.”
Hearing that, I was glad he’d pulled me back. I hadn’t really had to deal with that side of kids, so I wouldn’t have a clue what to do.
As we got closer to her, we heard Noah asking her what she had in her pockets. Looking around his broad shoulders, I could see how stuffed they were now that we were closer to her. What the fuck was she picking up?
“I gotta pocket full o’ s’nshine, daddy,”
she squealed, whirling her dirty hands in the air.
Figuring she was talking about the song, I grinned and watched the happy little girl as she skipped around us in circles.
“That’s adorable,” Hurst snickered. “Makes you wonder what she’s really got, though.”
I went through the possibilities in my head, but the only one that seemed feasible was dirt. There wasn’t anything else she could’ve found.
“Okay, baby, let’s clean your pockets out, and I’ll take you for a sunshine,” Noah said gently, squatting down to help her out.
The second his hand got close to her, though, she squealed and moved away from him. “No, daddy. Tha’s my s’nshine.”
All three of us looked at each other and then back down at her. Something wasn’t adding up here.
With his eyes narrowed, Noah asked gently, “Can I see some of your sunshine?”
These were the right words because she reached in and brought out a handful of whatever it was in her tiny little fist and thrust it right into his face. The second she opened it and revealed what it was, Noah stumbled backward in his squat and fell flat on his ass to get away from it.
“See, s’nshine. Like raisin!”
A hand closing around my forearm tore my focus off the horror in front of me, and I glanced to the side and saw Hurst staring at it with his mouth open.
“Jesus Christ, that’s not sunshine. That baby’s got a pocketful of shit,” he hissed, watching her warily as she kept thrusting it into her dad’s face.
Yup seems she’d found a trail of goat poop and was stuffing her pockets full of it.
“Baby, why don’t we empty your pockets and go inside—”
“And burn those damn shorts,” Hurst mumbled.
“—to find Momma,” Noah suggested, his hand raised out in front of him like he was surrendering.
“And wash her hands,” I added to Hurst, who nodded his head quickly.
“No, wanna keep the s’nshine, Daddy,” Jamie protested, her hands clamped down on her pockets to protect their contents.
And then she did one of the funniest things I’d ever seen. She ran up to her PawPaw, wrapped herself around his legs to get away from Noah, and peeked around him to see what her dad was doing. When she saw him getting close to where she was trying to hide, she shoved both hands into her pockets, grabbed some of the contents, and then started shoving them into Hurst’s pocket.
Yeah, that was funny, but his reaction was what ended up with me laughing my ass off so hard I had tears. When he realized what Jamie was doing, Hurst jumped away from her and reached into his pocket to get out what she’d just given him, not caring where he was throwing them so long as they were gone. Then, he grabbed Noah’s bottle of beer out of his hand and took a big mouthful.
Not amused yet? Well, come to find out that some of the poop raisins had landed in it while he was tossing them away, so as he went to swallow, he felt something in amongst the beer in his mouth. His eyes bugged out, and then the beer went spraying everywhere.
“Rainbow!” Jamie screamed, dancing around again, happy that no one was coming to steal her sunshine.
I wasn’t sure if that sort of thing was normal, but I loved her excitement about life being just about sunshine and rainbows. When I was her age, I’d been the same way, and it brought back memories of life before Mom got sick and died. We’d laughed a lot, played together, and she’d help us build shit and then knock it back down again.
Basically, at some point, my life had been the same. Sunshine and rainbows on a happy day. Maybe not ones made of beer and goat shit, though. That said, these ones came with a feeling of freedom I hadn’t had in years and the best people in the world. I’d take this kind over the last eighteen years any day.
Ariana
Elijah was listening intently to what I was saying to him as I worked until something over my shoulder caught his attention.
“So would you be interested?” I asked, waving my hand in front of his face. “Earth to Elijah.”
Taking his eyes away from whatever it was, he looked back at me and gave an apologetic smile. “Sorry, what were you saying?”
“I was saying we might all take a trip to go and see the cousins and that you should come with us.”
“But they smell funny, and—” he suddenly cut off, scowling at something as the muscle in his jaw ticked furiously.
“Are you okay?” I asked, turning to see what was pissing him off. All I found was Sadie wiping the bar down with a small smile on her face. “You seem distracted.”
“Yeah, sorry, I thought—" he started, and then stopped abruptly again, his eyes narrowing even more on whatever it was that he was seeing.
Figuring someone was hassling my friend, I turned around again, expecting to see a man in her space or even walking away from her, but this time she had her back to us as she changed out a bottle from the display. “Is it Sadie?”
Not taking his eyes off her, he growled, “She keeps giving me the bird and sticking her tongue out at me.”
“Can’t say I blame her, Elijah. You’ve been tormenting her since you got here.”
Suddenly he stood up and pointed at her. “The next time you stick your tongue out at me, I’m going to kiss you. Let that be your warning!”
The noise in the bar shut off like someone had flipped an off switch as we all prepared for the ensuing war between them.
Surprisingly, Sadie didn’t fire back with anything other than, “I have no idea what you’re talking about? Hey, Parker, maybe you should look him over. I’m no doctor, but I don’t think having hallucinations is good, is it?”
Growling, he sat back down with a thud, not taking his glare off her once.
Seeing that there were no patrons to serve and knowing someone would shout if there were, I smiled and waved at Parker as I moved over to where Sadie was.
“Help me swap out the barrels, will you? Those things weigh a ton, and I can’t move the full ones into place by myself. I got these here puny little musk-les.” I held up my arm to show her my bicep.
“Please,” she snorted. “You run and lift shit every day. I’m almost certain you’re not human.”
That might be a fact, but I still couldn’t move those damn barrels by myself. Pulling my best pathetic look, I pleaded, “Please? It’ll get you away from the moron.”
The moron was Elijah, named so by Sadie herself. Well, technically, that was her current name for him. Before this, he’d been the wanker, twat, tit stain, arse wipe, arse fungus, cretin, sodding shit… it was hard to keep up.
Almost like they were the magic words, she gave me a bright smile and started walking toward the end of the bar where the hatch was for us to get out. “Well, keep up, chop-chop.”
The door that led down to the basement was just beside the bar, so we were down there staring at them in no time.
“Which one’s need changed?”
Looking at the ceiling above us, I mentally plotted out where the beer taps were on the bar. “The two right above us.”
“That makes it easy then,” she chuckled and moved over to the empty barrels. “We’ll detach the hoses from these, move them over to where the empty ones are waiting to be collected during the next delivery, and then scoot two from over there into place.”
Watching her work, I was amazed at how easy she made it look. “Have you done this before?”
“Legal drinking age is eighteen in the UK, babe. I was working in a pub the day after my birthday. Actually,” she muttered, “I was drinking in the same pub for two years before that because I looked older than I was, so when I applied for a job, and they saw my birthdate, there was a wee bit of confusion.”
“I can’t believe they let you drink so young there,” I told her, taking the empty barrel away from her and moving it over to where the empties went. “What do you think about us having to be twenty-one here?”
Shrugging, she deftly detached the last barrel and picked it up. “I don’t really think about it,
to be honest. Different folks, different strokes—different countries, different laws. It’s like guns. What you lot are okay with is up to you.”
“I like that about you, Sadie. You’re like a diplomat.”
Both of us walked back over to take a handle each of the full barrel. “I get picked on enough by people for the words I use and how I sound. I’m hardly likely to be a hypocrite and start harping on about how I think this country should run, now, am I?”
Meeting her eyes, I nodded. “Okay, we lift it on the count of three.”
“No, we start scooting it across the floor on the count of three. If we lift it, we’ll end up pulling something in our backs.”
So, on the count of three, we started doing a scooting roll with the barrel, and I realized how right she was. If we’d picked it up, I’d have been screaming for medical assistance.
We’d just given it a more forceful heave when there was a loud popping noise that echoed off the enclosed space around us, making both of us drop the barrel at the same time.
Searching around us for the source of it, Sadie looked at me in panic. “What the shit was that?”
“I have no idea?”
Looking down at my chest her eyes widened, making me look down too. “You didn’t pop a tit, did you?”
“Pop a what?”
“One of your boobie balloons, did you pop it?”
Reaching up, I gave both a prod, not noticing anything different. “I think I’d have felt it, wouldn’t I?”
“I haven’t got a clue, mate. I mean, when you’re blowing up a balloon and it explodes in your face, you feel that, don’t you? So maybe it’s the same with your dirty balloons?”
Wanting to get back up to the bar to ask Parker about it, I pointed over at the abandoned barrel. “We should probably get that in place before customers turn up.”
So, we got back to work, but the topic of conversation was based purely on boobies now.
“How’s the area after the hot tea accident?” she asked as she did something with a rubber hammer and whatever else she’d grabbed to put the hose into the barrel. Some of them had a screw type thing on them that were easy, the others needed to be hammered in, it just depended on the brand of beer.
Forbidden Gold (Providence Gold Book 5) Page 22
