The Humdrum Life of a Hero

Chapter 23

My jaw drops.

I guess I just figured he'd said it a million times before to a million other girls. I had no idea I was something special. "Really?" I ask skeptically. "I find that hard to believe."

"I'm not gonna lie, I've had a few girlfriends and some meaningless flings before."

I frown at him. I've had my suspicions about his life before me, and yes, I figured there was a list of girls he'd either dated, slept with, or both. I'm not stupid. I know how highly sought after he is.

"Yeah, you probably didn't want to hear that," he bites his lip. His arm wraps tighter around my back, squeezing me closer to him. We dance clumsily along to the music. He dips me, nearly whacking my head against the footboard of my bed.

As he pulls me back to him from my near concussion experience, he whispers in my ear, "I love you, too."

When I'm right side up again, I plant a chaste kiss on his lips, agreeing with him. We end up dancing to the rest of the song in silence with my head on his shoulder and his hands on the small of my back. The song changes from the melodic and beautiful words of Ed Sheeran to the every-other-word-is-'bitch' rap of the early 2000s.

While my mother always did favor Phil Collins, I distinctly remember some rap from the college stations livening up the car from time to time. She was a relatively young woman when she was raising us, and it shone through every once in a while.

"Want me to change it?" Jay questions. I lean back a little and place my forehead on his. "No. It's just fine," I tell him because as much as it reminds me of my mother, it's okay.

It's okay because that's the mother I want to remember.

The one who gave it her all on Phil Collins' "In the Air Tonight."

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At first I think my alarm is going off, but I realize even through my sleepy haze that alarm clocks don't repeatedly tap people on the shoulder. My eyes open hastily to find a small figure standing in front of me. It takes me a moment to register who it is.

"Annalise? What're you doing awake?" I check the clock on my nightstand and see that's almost three o'clock in the morning. Then I prop myself up on an elbow, waiting for an answer.

"I had a bad dream." She won't meet my gaze, choosing to fumble with her pajama top instead.

I've had experience with bad dreams before with both of the twins, namely Connor, and also myself. A habit of mine when I was around seven or eight was climbing into my parents' bed, feigning either a bad dream or a headache, which always worked because I was my daddy's little girl. When the twins' got to be around the same age as I was, they did the same things. More recently, with all of the desertion and abandonment running rampant around this house, Connor has woken up in the middle with bad dreams and has wandered into my room.

"Jay wouldn't wake up," she whispers. I look over my shoulder at the sleeping rock next to me, snoring away while laying flat on his back and arms stretched out above his head.

"I don't doubt that," I mumble, "Do you want to sleep with us or are you good?"

"Can I sleep with you guys?" she says so softly I almost don't hear her. I nod my head and she climbs over me and in between Jay and me. I pull the comforter over her while she nuzzles her head against the crease of our pillows.

I roll over to face her. "You good now?" She nods and closes her eyes.

I wish I could fall asleep as quickly as this kid.

But just as soon as I think she's asleep, her eyes flutter back open as wide as they were a second ago. She eyes me down and whispers, "You know Jay lied earlier."