I shut off the water and ring the excess out of the washcloth. Itâs a little too hot, but it will cool down by the time I get back into the living room. Grabbing a dry towel, I walk back to Dakota.
But when I find her, sheâs fast asleep on the couch. Her mouth is slightly open and her eyes are tightly closed. She must really be exhausted.
I sit back down, careful not to wake her, and, as gently as I can, dab the cloth on the damaged skin of her feet. She doesnât stir, just lies silently sleeping as I clean her cuts and wipe away the dried blood.
Sheâs working herself too hard. From the bloody feet to the pure exhaustion sheâs wearing on her face right now. I want to spend time with her, but I want her to rest, so gathering up the bloodstained washcloth and the towel, I grab the blanket from the chair and cover her sleeping body with it.
What can I do to occupy myself while she sleeps?
Tessa is at work, Posey is at work . . . and thus ends my long list of pals.
Chapter Twenty-three
IN THE END, ASPIRIN AND Gatorade were the friends I decided to call upon, which meant a trip to the deli.
Ellen is working, and since her birthday is tomorrow, I killed some time seeing what she was up to (nothing much) and asking what she thought her parents might get her (again, nothing much).
Which sounds terrible. So I try to ferret out what she likes so maybe I can get her something fun.
On the way back, I gave my mom a call and talked to her and Ken for a few minutes.
When I get back in the apartment, I hang up and hear noise from the living room and figure Dakotaâs woken back up. Going in, seeing her there looking at me with a sort of confused where-the-heck-have-you-been look, I set my cell phone down on the table as slowly as I can.
I do it somewhat comically, but I feel like Iâm trapped in an interrogation room or something. Only in this room thereâre Cheez-Its and bottles of Gatorade. So, maybe not so much like an interrogation room.
Though . . . Dakota would make a sexy-ass cop. I can imagine her body dressed in a tight uniform, just for me to peel off. The look on her face right now, though, says that if she were a cop, she would arrest me. And not in a sexy, playful, handcuff-me-to-the-bed-and-tease-me way.
âIt was my mom and Ken on the phone. They had an appointment today for little Abby,â I say with a somewhat fake smile.
Not fake in that Iâm not happy about the babyâs progress, or that Ken is still head over heels for my mom, but fake because I suddenly get paranoid that Dakota overheard me talking to my mom about Nora right at the end of the conversation.
But Nora is my friend, if barely. Still, Dakota hearing her name as I said it to my mom would only further fuel the fire of jealousy sheâs creating over her roommate. The match in her hand is burning pretty bright now and I want her to understand that thereâs nothing to be worried about. Nora wouldnât give me a chance even if I pursued it. It would be messy because of her friendship with Tessa, and I barely know her anywayâso why is this a thing?
Dakota gets up and stretches out her back. âSo, how is she?â she asks. âAbby. How is she doing in there?â
I let out a little tension-breath I didnât realize I was holding and step into the kitchen with my haul. Dakota follows me in, wrapping her arms around my neck and leaning her head on my shoulder. Her hair smells like coconut and her curls are soft against my cheek.
âSheâs good. They sounded a little worried for a second, but I think Iâm just overthinking things.â
Dakotaâs breath is warm against my skin. âOverthinking? You? You donât say!â She chuckles and her laugh is beautiful, like she is.
I reach my hand up and gently squeeze her arm.
âIâm glad sheâs doing okay. Itâs still kind of weird to think of your mom being pregnant, at her age.â Seemingly aware of how her words sound, she quickly recovers, adding, âNot in a bad way. Sheâs the best mom Iâve ever seen, and both you and Abby are so lucky to have her, at any age. I donât know Ken very well yet, but from what you tell me, heâs going to be a great dad.â
âHe will be,â I say, and kiss her arm as I put the snacks away in the cabinets.
âLetâs just hope Abby is more like you and less like Hardin.â She laughs again and little needles prick my skin.
I donât like the way she said that. Not one bit.
âWhatâs that supposed to mean?â I lift her arms from mine and turn around to face her.
Dakotaâs face gives away her surprise at my reaction.