Forever Bound

Silent Treatment

My knees were tight to my chest as I sat on the couch. I held onto some hot chocolate in a coffee cup.

There was finally a sound at the door. I got up, adjusting my long sleeve shirt around my stomach. I desperately needed to go shopping for maternity clothes.

"Hi..." I greeted Warren.

I'd never seen him in casual clothes before, it made me visibly gulp while I checked him out. You could see his muscular build in his suits...but with a muscle shirt- good God.

He picked up what I was doing, I blushed as I turned around. The image of him in black sweats, a fitted white tee, and a black jacket with the hood on his head was already burned into my mind.

I cleared my throat as he came in. "Hot cocoa?"

"No, thank you," he answered.

"Okay, well...," I grabbed my phone and keys, "we should go then."

The walk down to the his car was silent. It was clear that both of us were a little tense, even though a few days passed since the hospital.

The only words that were said were the directions to my dad's house, and Warren's ruff sighs when I would zone out, and at the last minute, frantically yell he missed a turn.

We got there in one piece though. Warren looked at how bad the yard was but he didn't say anything. Anthony and my dad were already on one side of the house.

I didn't help a lot with the siding of the house, because Warren wasn't the only one who felt it would be too much for me. But there was nothing they could say to convince me that painting was dangerous.

Anthony was in the middle of pushing his hair back. "Hey, Sonny. Evening, Warren."

"You guys made it," my dad smiled down from his ladder, "glad you decided to come, Warren."

"Good evening, Mr. Callaghan. Warren...," the sun made his eyes squint.

"Call me Christian, son," dad chuckled, "on the porch we have some trays, paint, and brushes. You two can get started on the other side."

"Okay," I give him a thumbs up before Warren and I go back in that direction.

We go back to our quiet setting and start getting the paint trays together. Warren opens the cans and I stir them with the paint sticks. I stand up and go to pick the paint can to dump it in the tray.

"Let me pour it."

I pushed his hands away. "I can do it."

"Stop being difficult," Warren sucks his teeth.

"Stop being- annoying..." I stuttered for a comeback.

"How the hell am I being annoying, Dawson?" he narrowed his eyes.

"I can dump it," I say confident that I can pick up a can of paint. My hand wraps around the thin handle. I pull the handle and- "ouch!"

Warren grabs the paint from me and, as if it will do something, places his hand instinctively on the small of my back, towards my hip. His forehead wrinkles, and his eyes almost pop out his head.

I start laughing silently, my shoulders shake. Warren then curses under his breath and I began to choke. Leaning on the rail of the porch, I let my head hang as I go back and forth between dying and laughing.

"That's what you get," Warren drops the bucket, scowling at me, "that wasn't fuckin' funny."

"You- your face," I wheeze, pointing at him. "You should've seen it."