Make Me Stay by Katie Douglas

Author:Katie Douglas [Douglas, Katie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Katie Douglas
Published: 2019-04-11T16:00:00+00:00

Harper

It was late afternoon and the shadows were lengthening as the sun got closer to the horizon. We had spent most of the day either stuck to each other or eating and drinking—to give us more energy for sex.

“What day is it?” I kicked my feet, skimming the floor as we sat in the kitchen together.

“Tuesday.”

“Laundry day.” I was supposed to do it last week but forgot, and I knew there was a huge pile that had waited all this time.

“You have a laundry day?”

I laughed. “Sure. In this heat I don’t want the van to start smelling bad.” He was going to think I was organized. Probably better than him knowing I was a bit of a slob who had left my laundry over a week in a van.

“Well, I feel a little bad that you didn’t get to find a laundromat today. Why don’t you use our machines?”

“You guys have laundry?”

“Sure. In a shed out back. There’s two washing machines and two dryers. It made more sense than each of us having separate appliances.”

That would save time, money and effort. “Neat, I’ll just go get my laundry bag.”

I stood up too quickly, my vision darkening for a moment as my body caught up with what I was doing. Blackness pressed against my head and I wobbled on my feet. Barrett might have said something, but I didn’t hear him.

After a few seconds, everything was clear once more and I went out. When I dug the van key out of my pocket I realized it was the first time I’d held it in almost a week. The first time I’d opened the door to my home.

I was staying at a man’s house, and now I was about to do my laundry here. It was so domestic—so settled—that the idea of doing household chores on a ranch was completely alien to me.

The key stuck in the lock to the sliding door. It was a regular occurrence. My van was old and set in its ways, and I was just a whippersnapper that the van’s mechanisms frequently ignored. Perhaps the van was pissed that I’d abandoned it so much lately. Murmuring apologies to an inanimate object, I tried the driver side door instead. It creaked open with the sort of grumbling noise that suggested the van was reluctant to do what I wanted, right now. I got in for a moment and sat on the comfortable foam cushion that time had indented in the exact shape of my butt. Leaned my head back to look at the pattern of the mushroom-colored fabric upholstering the ceiling. The stains from so many people who owned the vehicle before I did.

What had happened to them all? Had they found somewhere to put roots down and started a life? Had they disappeared into the sunset one day? Married? Had kids? Upgraded to a yacht? Even though I knew how much a working, modernized Early Bay T2 could sell for, it was difficult to visualize a van like this parked beside a white picket fence.

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