Credence

by Penelope Douglas

Making a mistake takes seconds. Living with them takes a lifetime,

Away. He looks down at me, jerking his chin again. Away. You’re not going. Jake stands in the truck bed, suddenly aware something is going on, and I clench my jaw to fight the tears.

why is she so affected by him? what makes him so different from the other two? she’s less angry and more sad abt what he’s saying…is it just bc he's making her feel unwanted? i think there's more to it than that. and she actually listens to him instead of going out of spite: out-of-character and curious!

“I’m going to go home,” I say quietly. “You are home.”

She’s too damn funny, and I like watching her get pissed off. My only little ray of sunshine in this big ol’ shithole.

Dancing with someone makes me look like a slut, but they can serial screw every night and not see the irony there.

i genuinely feel so mad abt this i would slap someone for treating me like this

“You’re going to look in the mirror at the seventeen-year-old girl in a fifty-year-old body and realize you wasted so much time being devastated at how those fuckers didn’t love you that you forgot there’s an entire world of people who will.”

“Lust, learn, and love,”

love the foreshadowing

Tiernan is a pulse in the house. She’s the pulse.

“Why do I care about pleasing you? I don’t want to please you.”

“Everything you do pleases me.”

A moment of guilt hits me, but I don’t know why.

i just love that there's smth different going on with them

“What the hell is going on? He’s never acted like that.”

rightttt...i dont wanna say it in as many words but i will. he wants her bad and doesnt like that his father and brother have what they have with her. he's jealous and possessive, he wants her all to himself

Something about this house—these people—lends credence every day to what I always knew I needed. Not sex. Not a guy. Just a place. Somewhere or someone to feel like home.

Snowfall isn’t like rainfall. Rain is passion. It’s a scream. It’s my hair sticking to my face as I wrap my arms around him. It’s spontaneous, and it’s loud. Snowfall is like a secret. It’s whispers and firelight and searching for his warmth between the sheets at two a.m. when the rest of the house is asleep. It’s holding him tightly and loving him slowly.

He laughed. Out loud. It wasn’t much, but I heard his deep voice. He’s growled or grunted a few times, but he let me hear him laugh. I narrow my eyes, lost in thought. I wonder if he even realizes. He let me hear him.

But Kaleb just waves a hand, shooing me away as he lies down next to her and pulls her into his body. I watch as she immediately falls in, burying her head in his neck as the cries subside and her breathing starts to calm. He yawns, pulling her sheet and blanket up over them like this is normal.

ugh come on this is so cute

Giving me his meat at dinner, giving me his lap when my seat was wet, and taking me away from Cici and Terrance on the dance floor. He’s always thinking of me. That’s how he talks to me.

He takes my hand again, placing it on his face this time, begging me to touch him—to look at him, to see him—as his lips move across my cheekbones and beg for my mouth.

i love how he needs her

He doesn’t savor anyone like he wants to savor her. Her scent, her sound, her touch . . . her taste.

He simply holds my eyes, lays his hand flat on his chest, and taps it twice.

And then he puts his palm to his chest and taps twice, imitating the gesture Kaleb made before he left last week. “This . . .” he says, “means ‘mine.’”

I want to be outside. I want to be in a tree. I want to be wet. I want to be on the forest floor as the rain hits the leaves above. I like that sound. I want to be warm. I want to hold something. I want to talk to my dad. I want to be tired, so I can sleep more, and I want to walk. I want to be in love. I want to be safe. I want to be over. I want things in my head to be gone. But then all of that is scribbled over, leaving one simple line. I want to be everything she sees.

They’re such deep sleepers, they don’t hear you at night. Just me. When I touched your face, you quieted. When I tried to leave, the nightmare started again. So I stayed. I come in every night. You tuck your cold feet between my legs, and I hug you to me, resting my hand on your back and feeling your body calm as it nestles into me. Do I make you feel safe? I like taking care of you.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” I tell him just above a whisper. “You actually left Colorado.” “It was time,” he says. I suck in a breath, his words hitting me like a truck. What? I slide off the tire and turn to face him, not believing what I just heard. Deep but soft. Clear and strong. He spoke. Kaleb spoke. Walking around the tire, he steps toward me. “My home is where you are,” he says quietly.

“I go where you go,”

“Will you be happy?”

“I won’t be happy without you,” he states. “I know that.”