How To Give Baby Food A Black Eye

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Chapter 20 : How To Give Baby Food A Black Eye

For the first night since I’ve met him, he slept alone. I was sleeping on the other bed, him in the other. It took me a while to fall asleep because what we did just kept replaying in the back of my mind like a broken record. I was beyond upset with myself because I let it happen.

Around ten in the morning, I gathered all of our things and took them to the car. I checked us out of the motel room, then went back up and braced myself to wake up Warren. It was not fun to wake up a hung-over man, especially when said hung-over man attempted to sleep with you the night before. He was completely conked out, snoring and everything.

So I grabbed an empty cup, filled it with water, and splashed it over him.

I stepped back ten feet as soon as I did it. His eyes opened instantly and a large, animalistic growl lunged out of his throat. His eyes were steaming as he tried to claw at nothing. When he finally calmed down to see that he was drenched with water, he groaned loudly and squeezed his eyes shut.

The fuck did you do that for!?” He snapped at me loudly.

“To wake you up,” I said dully. “All our crap is in the car already. All you have to do is get in it. We’re going to Gerber’s house.”

He groaned, obviously paying no attention to what I just said. But I knew that he heard me. “Fuck,” He muttered under his breath, rubbing at his probably painful headache. He sat up and I knew he was dizzy.

“I’ll be in the car,” I muttered quietly. I didn’t want to be in the same room with him right now. Being in the car with him for an hour was going to be torture.

After fifteen minutes passed as I sat in the driver’s seat, I considered leaving him here. Right when I was going to pull out, he clambered into the passenger seat. I left him a fresh change of clothes on the bed next to him. He tossed his pajamas into the back and somewhere in his backpack he must’ve had sunglasses, because he was wearing them when he got in.

I took off and for the first five minutes on the highway, it was quiet. He had his seat dipped lightly, so I thought he was asleep. But he wasn’t. “Did you say we were going to Gerber’s?”

“Yes,” I answered.

“Where did you find him?”

“I found his number still saved in my phone,” I explained. “I texted it, and he answered. I asked him for his address and said it was important.”

It was quiet. Too quiet.

“YOU FUCKING HAD HIS NUMBER THIS ENTIRE GODDAMNED TIME!?” He roared, making me flinch as he sat up straight.

“Yes.”

He lowered himself back into the seat. I glanced at him. His jaw was clutched, but he had gum in his mouth because he was chewing it before. His hands were gripping the armrests a little too forcefully. I didn’t care if he was pissed off at me. I was glad that he was in a bad mood. That’s what he gets for drinking so much.

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