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Caveman (Wild Men 1)

Page 62

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Or just fucking leave it. Who the hell cares? I’m just so damn tired all the time. I thought moving out here would cure me of it, of this weariness, this constant exhaustion.

But that hasn’t happened. My work is not harder than it was in St. Louis. I’d worked in a garage there, too, once

I managed to get out of my funk enough to drag myself out of the house every day. And yet I feel like a truck ran me over.

I open the cupboard, grab a random mug, fill it up with black, bitter coffee and stagger out to the porch.

It’s probably chilly, so early in the morning. I never feel it. I never feel anything after waking up, my brain still struggling to decide what is real and what isn’t.

Emma’s hand in mine. Her cheek cold as she was laid into the ground. Her voice still whispering in my ear.

Hell. I brace one hand on the porch pillar, dizzy. Wait until the ground steadies. Until the urge to howl subsides.

The sea of grass around the house sways, the tips of the weeds silver in the gray light.

I should do something about it. Borrow a lawn mower. Cut it before I get into trouble.

And then a snort escapes me. Get into trouble, really? Who the fuck cares?

The houses down the street are still dark. It’s quiet. My pulse is way too loud in my ears.

I think I feel ghostly hands slip around my hips, faint laughter in the air.

My eyes sting.

Dammit… how can I ever let you go?

I open the door for Octavia and manage a greeting before retreating upstairs to shower and dress for another long-ass day. I pull on pants and a shirt, shove my feet into my boots and sit on the bed for a few minutes, spaced out.

It’s one of those days, where time seems to have slowed down and I’m sinking down into the mud faster than I can swim. My air is running out.

There’s a tremor in my hand when I lift it to shove my hair out of my face.

I remember Cole’s laughter as he perched on my knee last night. Mary’s giggles.

Octavia’s smile.

Clenching my jaw, I get up and head back downstairs. Thank fuck she hasn’t made good on her promise to make me talk about anything much yet, or do more than eat dinner with the kids last night.

I’m supposed to have breakfast with them, but somehow, despite being up from the ass- crack of dawn, I’m running late.

“Matt!” Octavia calls from the kitchen.

Right on cue.

“Have to run,” I tell her, and get the hell out of the house before she has a chance to reply.

Feeling like a douche, I drive to work.

As mornings go, this one was pretty tough but nothing I can’t deal with. Not the first time I have nightmares so bad they won’t fade away, that I feel so shaken I can only forge ahead hoping I’ll make it through the day in one piece.

So of course things go downhill from there.

First Jasper sends me out to check a broken-down car out of town, and nobody’s there when I arrive, so that I have to return with the bad news.

Then I burn my hand on the engine of a car just brought in. Nothing life-threatening, but Evan makes it sound as if it’s fatal. The guy’s cool and nice and all, but today of all days I’d rather he didn’t fuss.

To be honest, the physical pain kinda grounds me, and I have to resist the urge to press into the burn, make the pain sharper.



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