The Road That Leads to Us (Us 1)

He pulled his keys out of his pocket and spun the ring around his fingers. “What kind do you need?”

“You’re not buying me tampons!” I sat straight up and my hair was a wild tangled mess around my shoulders.

Dean rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to catch a disease if I buy you tampons. It’s not a big deal, Willow. Honestly.”

I glared at him. “Aren’t most guys afraid of the feminine needs aisle?”

Dean shrugged. “Any guy that’s afraid to buy a girl tampons or pads is a real piece of shit in my opinion.”

I sighed and buried my face in my hands, letting out a loud groan. “Fine. Get me the tampons.”

He held his hand to his ear and turned his head to his side. “Can you say that a bit louder?”

“Don’t be an ass about it.” I grabbed a pillow off the bed and threw it at him.

He caught it easily and set it on the bed.

“Text me the kind you want.”

“I hate you.” I glared at him as he headed for the door.

Stopping, he turned around and stared down at me. “Funny, because I love you.” He smiled goofily.

He made it impossible to try to be mad at him, even when I was sure tiny demon gnomes were attacking my ovaries and using them as a trampoline.

“I love you too,” I whispered, and snagged the pillow from the end of the bed so I could hug it to my chest.

His smile widened even further before he opened the door and left.

I’d been telling Dean I loved him for as long as I could remember—my dad hadn’t always been happy about that, but he had to deal—but now it was so different. The depths of my emotions behind the three simple words were as large as the ocean and just as unknown. When something is that big you can’t measure it or begin to understand it. It just is.

While Dean was gone to the store I showered and got into my pajamas before vegetating in bed while watching ‘Pitch Perfect’ On Demand.

When an hour had passed and he hadn’t returned I sent him a text that went unread.

Naturally, I began to worry.

When my phone rang I was sure it was him, but it was my dad instead.

I paused the movie and answered my phone. “Hello?”

“How are you?”

“About the same as I was when you talked to me three hours ago.”

In the background I heard my mom scolding him for calling me yet again.

“She’s my daughter,” he told her, “I’ll call her as many times in a day as I want.”

“Dad,” I said into the phone, trying to get his attention.

“Yeah, sorry Princess.”

“I know you’re worried about me, but you have to chill out. I’m doing fine.”

He grew quiet on the other end. “I know you’re fine, but I’m not.”

I flinched at the sadness in his voice. “Dad,” I began, and then grew quiet, at a loss for words.