Last Turn Home

Chapter 16 - Your McDreamy

CHAPTER 16

CARLY

It scared me to see John that drunk last night, to see him that upset and that vulnerable, but what scared me more was the thought of how far he would've taken it if I hadn't gone up there to see him.

I couldn't think about that; instead I got out of bed, feeling very unrested and sluggish. I showered, dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a tank top, and then went downstairs to make myself a pot of coffee.

It was only seven in the morning, way too early considering I went to bed at half past two the night before.

I had work to do though. John would likely be asleep for a couple hours still, and I doubted he'd feel up for working too much today, which meant I'd have to pick up the slack. I didn't mind. It was Sunday; we usually took it pretty easy on Sundays anyway.

I put my boots on and shoved a pair of earbuds in my ear, putting my iPod on shuffle as I made way out into the early morning sun, the dew on the ground just about gone.

The water trough in one of my bigger paddocks outside was getting a little low so I turned on the water hose and filled that up first, then went into the stables to check on the horses and fill the stalls with fresh water and feed.

"How're you doin', boy?" I whispered to Spirit, stroking his dark mane and patting his shoulder.

I spent most of the morning inspecting the pastures and taking out some unwanted weeds. Some of the horses followed me around, possibly wondering if I had any treats for them. They lost interest when they realized I didn't have anything. "Sorry," I apologized with a little smile as an old gelding snorted at me, looking quite unimpressed by my lack of apple slices.

When I came back to the barn at around noon I decided to check on John and see if he was still breathing.

I knocked softly on the hatch, just in case he was just getting out of the shower or something. When I didn't hear an answer, I opened the hatch. He was still asleep, lying on his stomach with his face in the pillows.

I tip-toed to the bed and ran my fingers through his hair, noticing that the aspirins were gone. He must've gotten up a little earlier to take them and gone back to bed.

"Hey," I whispered.

"Mm, you're makin' too much noise," he mumbled, his words muffled by his pillow.

"Dare I ask how you're feelin'?" I smirked.

"Like I was run over by a fuckin' bulldozer," he grumbled, unmoving.

"Do you want coffee or food? I can make somethin' greasy..." I suggested with an amused smile on my face, trying to suppress my giggles.

"This ain't funny," he grumbled.

"I'm not laughin'," I argued.

"You're smilin'," he went on.

I had no clue how he could possibly know that with his face buried in the pillows but I didn't ask, instead sitting down on his bed and running my hand up and down his back. He was still wearing his dress shirt but his pants were lying in a heap next to the bed. I wasn't the one that pulled them off him, so he must've done that sometime during the night.

"What time is it?" he asked, the grogginess in his voice slowly wearing off. He turned his head around to look at me, squinting a little in the dim light coming from the cracks in his blinds. He looked like crap.