Watch Over Me by Tara Sivec Read Free Book Online

would buy me a stuffed animal that either held
     a heart in its arms with the words "I love you thiiiiiiiiis much" on it, or it would
     speak those words out loud when you pulled its arms apart.
    My heart beats erratically in my chest and the words on the napkin in my lap grow
     blurry as I feel my eyes fill with tears. I will NOT cry. I refuse to cry. If I start,
     I'll never stop. If I think about her, I'll never stop. It will be a never-ending
     influx of memories and conversations that will just NEVER STOP.
    "Stop, stop, stop, please stop," I whisper to myself over and over as I squeeze my
     eyes closed and mentally calculate how many dozen cupcakes I need to make to fill
     next week's order for the Father Daughter dance at the elementary school and how many
     pounds of sugar, flour, and butter I need to remember to order when the delivery company
     shows up this week.
    I should never have thought about that memory. As soon as I saw those words and the
     stick figure, I should have crumpled up the napkin and thrown it into the street before
     my mind opened itself up. I've taught myself to shut everything off in the last year
     and a half. No memories, no emotions, just keep moving forward and pretend like she
     never existed. If I pretend like she never existed, I can breathe. If I pretend like
     she was never real, I can wake up each morning and not feel like my heart is being
     ripped out of my chest.
    "Hey, are you okay? Addison, open your eyes."
    I hear his voice right next to me, but I can't open my eyes to look at him. I'm afraid
     to open them. If I open them, it will all be real. I'll feel the heat of the sun on
     my skin and the brush of the wind across my face, and I'll know I'm not sleeping.
     I'll know that I'm awake and alone. I'll know that I haven't been dreaming all this
     time; that she's really gone and never coming back.
    "Addison, come on, open your eyes. Whatever it is, it's okay. It's okay."
    I feel his arms around my shoulders, pulling my body up against his on the bench,
     and I want to relax into him and take the comfort he is offering, but I can't let
     go of the stiffness in my body. I'm not used to leaning on someone, figuratively OR
     literally. I smell his cologne and it reminds me of our interaction in the elevator.
     It reminds me of just how adept he is at making me forget about my problems, and I
     instantly feel like I can breathe again. I can breathe as long as I can breathe him in. I can function because he makes me forget. I just want to forget. I slowly open
     my eyes, and I'm staring straight into his pale blue ones focusing on me with such
     concern and worry.
    "How did you know I was out here?" I whisper.
    He chuckles and then lets out a deep sigh, tightening his arm around my shoulder.
    "I went inside for my coffee, and when I didn't see you there, I asked the girl at
     the counter. Meg, I think she said her name was? Is she a tad bit crazy? I thought
     she was going to climb over the counter and jump on my back or something when I asked
     where you were. I saw you sitting out here with your eyes closed so I snuck the napkin
     on your lap."
    His face falls as I suddenly shrug out from under his arm and move a few inches away
     from him on the bench. Not because I want to, but because I have to. I don't understand
     why a stranger would want to do something like this for me, and my distrust of people
     makes me question his motives, but at the same time, his confidence and the familiarity
     with which he interacts with me makes me want to let my guard down. My brain and my
     heart are at war with one another, and I can already tell it's going to be a vicious
     battle. One look into his eyes, and I want to unburden myself of everything. No one
     has looked at me like that in a long time—like they're concerned for me and just want
     to make things easier on me. No one wants to help me or cares if I'm okay. They just
     assume I'm strong and independent because I don't wear my