Control Me by Evelyn Glass

Author:Evelyn Glass
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pronoun

CHAPTER 8

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I GET A COLD SHIVER. The air has turned cooler and, as if by magic, Sally appears in the doorway. She’s looking indulgently at the two of us on the swing chair, like she’s looking at her own kids.

“You two getting a little chilly out here?” she asks, leaning against the door-frame and looking so much like Jake it’s unreal.

“A little,” I concede and, even though it’s true that I’m feeling the coolness of the air through my thin denim jacket, I don’t want this moment to end. This closeness that I’m sharing with my mother is more important to me than catching a cold. But, one look at my mom’s tiny, bird-like frame tells me that she can’t afford to get sick. Not when she’s still so weak.

“I’ll help you get her into bed,” I tell Sally, finally standing and taking hold of my mom’s elbow to help her up.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got her,” Sally replies, crossing the short distance between us quickly and taking hold of my mother from the other side. “There’s someone here to see you.” She looks meaningfully in the direction of the front door. She doesn’t have to tell me who that “someone” is.

“Are you sure you’re alright with her?” I ask, still not convinced that I want to leave my mom.

“More than alright,” Sally assures me with a smile that has the wattage to light up a room. “Now go and put my boy out of his misery,” she says playfully, waving me away while she supports my mother in her strong, capable arms.

“Okay,” I say, smiling my gratitude to her. But, as I reach the door, I turn. “Thanks Sal. I feel like that’s the only thing I’m saying to you at the moment,” I laugh and shake my head at the truth of the statement.

“And I keep telling you not to mention it,” Sally reminds me, a twinkle in her eye. “He’s waiting.” She signals with her chin towards the house.

“I’m going, I’m going,” I say, raising my arms in surrender and taking a deep breath, ready to face the music.

When I get to the front door, I find Jake out on the porch, looking down at his feet like a kid that’s been told off for doing something he shouldn’t. The image of him, standing there in the dark, looking all apologetic and gorgeous, drives all rational thought out of my head.

“Hey,” I say, somewhat lamely, scuffing my shoe against the floor. Suddenly, I feel very young. It may seem strange, but one of the things that I love about Jake is how he makes me feel my age when I’m around him. When I’m with him, I don’t have to pretend to be a grown up. I don’t have to carry the weight of the world on my shoulders. With him I can just be a nineteen-year-old girl. A nineteen-year-old girl in love.

“I hate fighting with you,” Jake says meaningfully.

“Me too,” I agree, stepping into his arms and feeling at home there.

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