Normally I hated attention from guys but the Hendrick guy didn’t make me feel dirty. He made me feel almost…pretty. He wasn’t trying to peek down my shirt. He was giving me that open mouth stare that was reserved for super models and Dania.

“Why did you do that?” he asked pointedly, staring at my lip ring and then I didn’t feel pretty anymore. He made me feel like a freak. Like there was something wrong with me. I was used to people looking at me like I was trash but for some reason, from this kid, with his green eyes that never really met mine, it bothered me worse than it usually did.

So I did the only thing I ever did when my feelings got hurt. I went for the jugular.

“None of your business, freak,” I hissed.

The kid looked shocked by my words and for just a second I felt bad. Because he looked upset and bewildered. He sort of reminded me of myself before I had stopped feeling anything.

**

I dreamt about Flynn a lot. Even with him sleeping right beside me, he invaded every part of my subconscious, infiltrating my mind constantly.

I woke up that morning with a lump in my stomach and my heart twisting miserably in my chest. My dream replaying over and over in my head.

I felt guilty.

Because I had dreamt about Flynn.

But not the Flynn I loved in my waking world. No, this Flynn had been different. He had held me tight and told me that he loved me. He smiled and looked me in the eye without awkwardness and hesitation.

He was Flynn but not Flynn.

He was the Flynn that didn’t struggle with his disability. And for those first few seconds after waking, I looked over at the man sleeping beside me and I missed the man who never existed.

For those moments as I was getting my bearings, I wished with all my heart for the man I had left behind in my dreams. And then Flynn stirred and flopped on his back, pulling the covers with him, and I felt horrible for thinking that.

I hated myself for wanting something from him that wasn’t realistic and not at all fair.

But I felt it all the same.

The desperate desire for a few moments of normalcy. Being able to hear from his lips that he loved me. Not feeling tied to a place like Wellston because it would be too difficult for him to leave.

I couldn’t help but wonder what my life would be like had I fallen in love with someone normal.

And then I gave myself a mental slap.

Who was I to determine what was normal?

I was a woman who had never learned how to have functional, healthy relationships. I was the adult who had grown from the child who would spit on people that angered me and start fights to make myself feel better. My early life had been dictated by a bad temper and uncontrollable rage that had gotten me into trouble time and again.

If anyone wasn’t normal, it was me.

I rolled onto my side and watched Flynn sleep for a while. Things weren’t easy, but I wouldn’t have been happy with easy.

Nothing worth having was ever simple.

I reached out and gently ran my fingers down the side of his face in a way I’d never be able to do if he were awake. It was nice being able to touch him without his instant recoil. He was learning to accept physical affection from me but we were a long way off from holding onto each other without him pulling away.

Typically I was okay with that. I wasn’t a touchy feely person by nature. It had taken me a long time to not identify touch with something sordid and violent. Loving Flynn had introduced me to all types of intimacy. Both emotional and physical. My heart was still trying to open up completely. To not lash out and hurt others when things got too hard or too real.

I had issues. Lots of them. Who was I to feel any sort of resentment towards Flynn for his?

And why did I have to force aside a simmering bitterness over his limitations?

I knew what I was doing. I was slowly and deliberately willing myself to self-destruct.

I was my own worst enemy. I was obsessed with my own failures…addicted to self-doubt like the worst kind of junkie. Wallowing in my shortcomings became a fixation that would eventually result in a complete and total meltdown.

I was determined to not give into the compulsion to push Flynn away. To give into the anger and resentment like a lifeline. It was encoded in the fabric of who I was to put up walls. To keep a necessary distance.

But loving Flynn didn’t allow for that. If I wanted him, I had to give him all of me.

And I had to take everything he gave me in return.

I was happy. Flynn was happy. We were happy together.

This is what I believed. This is what I had to focus on. Not the ghosts of past Ellie that were resurrected the minute I crossed over the town lines.

My fingertips lingered against Flynn’s cheek, needing him to ground me. He let out a quiet snore, his brows furrowing. He swatted at my hand, and I quickly snatched it back.

That’s okay, Ellie. You love him. He loves you. Even if he can’t say it.

I quietly got out of bed and left the room knowing I’d never go back to sleep. The house was freezing. Flynn insisted on lowering the thermostat to fifty-five degrees overnight, stating that it was the most effective means of conserving energy.

I had tried to argue that it was better to pay more in heating costs than to freeze in our bed. Flynn wouldn’t hear it and since he was the one currently paying all the bills, I figured I didn’t have much room to say anything.

I thought about going outside and getting some logs to start a fire but Flynn hated the smell of burning wood. The large, ornate fireplace was an original feature of the house that was built in the late 1800s. But Flynn rarely used it.