I Would Like to Visit You For a While:
"So, all of this is really mine?" Toby asked from his spot on the couch in the den while watching Dean pace in the room.
"Yeah," his father muttered almost absentmindedly.
"Dad…? Dad?" The teen questioned loudly in an attempt to get Dean's attention and have him join the conversation.
"Huh? Oh… Sorry… Sorry Toby… Yeah… Yeah, when you turn eighteen, all of this will be yours. But don't forget," Dean started with mischief in his tone before he found a seat beside Toby. "Phantom is all yours in a little over two years."
Toby let out a sorrowful laugh and agreed, "Yeah."
They sat there in silence as Dean idly flipped through some of the journals that hadn't made it back into their boxes. The house was eerily quiet and it felt so empty right now. Even though Dean knew that he still had his son in his life, he felt alone. As he sat there acknowledging his feelings of loss, he felt a tear trickle down his cheek , but swiftly swiped it away before Toby had a chance to notice.
The father/son duo had been working for nearly two days now to pack up the house so that it could be left somewhat vacant until they decided what would be done with it. 'The Last Will and Testament of Adelaide Victoria Jones' stated that Tobias Jonathan Connor was to make all of the decisions regarding the house, its contents and (of course) the car. They had spent nearly 48 hours, non-stop, together and Toby was starting to feel weirdly self-conscious around his father because Dean refused to look him in the eye… If Dean looked at him at all.
For a brief moment, Toby stared at the side of Dean's head with a false hope that he could force some sort of eye contact between the two of them. When Dean's only response was to continue packing yearbooks and journals neatly into boxes, he let it go. He stored his feelings of hurt away just like he had learned that a true Winchester man was supposed to. Instead, he turned his attention back to the letter that his mother's lawyer had given him the day of the funeral. It still made him chuckle softly because the words must have been written nearly half a decade ago. The sentiment in the letter gave him the impression that they were put to paper back before he was aware that he had Winchester or Jones blood coursing through his veins.
Dean overheard his soft laughter and without turning around asked, "Dare I ask what's so funny?"
"I was so mad at her for keeping her secret from me, but deep down she always wanted me to know… Mom had finally convinced her that it would be a good idea… I was mad for nothing… Hey dad?" Toby started tentatively. "Can I ask you something?"
Dean was taping up and labeling the boxes they had already packed and didn't stop while answering, "Sure Buddy, what's on your mind?"
"Do you… Umm… Do you thing Mum knew how much I really loved her? And… And that I could never actually hate her like she thought I did?"
For the first time that day, Dean ceased all movement. His shoulders slumped forward dejectedly as he tried to compose himself. He moved slowly, each action more deliberate than the previous one. By the time he was ready to turn around; he couldn't help but look up at Toby's face because he could hear his son quietly sobbing.
"I know… You don't want to be around me either… I shouldn't have asked so… It's… It's fine Dad, you don't have to answer. No worries."
Dean nearly jumped to his feet and was seated beside the young teen within seconds. He tried to wrap Toby in a hug but was immediately pushed away.
"Don't… Don't pretend… Mum said that when you died she couldn't stand to look at me, so I know… You can't either… Just… Well… At least she had the decency to stay away until she could," Toby explained with a wretchedly sad tone through his tears.
"I'm sorry Toby, really I am. I don't think… I haven't meant to… I'm sorry. This is just a lot for me to take in and I'm not used to… I'm sorry," Dean apologized as honestly as he could.
After Dean reached over and held Toby's hand, Toby looked up at him and they finally made the eye contact that the young boy craved. "And I think she used the term 'couldn't bear to look at you'. She knew that she would breakdown and she didn't want to be unfair to you… As for me… Buddy, I'm not intentionally avoiding you. I just really need to keep busy right now. It's how I handle things, I didn't mean to hurt you."
"Oh… Okay… I guess I didn't… Yeah," Toby awkwardly replied. "I was thinking that I would go pack upstairs, if that's okay with you."
"Sure Buddy. There are extra boxes by the stairs… Just yell down if you need any help."
Toby was nearly out the door as Dean finished his statement, but he still made sure to nod before continuing to the stairs. Once Dean was alone, he relaxed into the couch and just sat there for a moment. He closed his eyes taking in a few deep breaths and swore that he could still smell the familiar scent of her perfume lingering in the air.
Damn it Lay! I don't know what I'm doing here! He thought to himself sadly. I don't know what the fuck I should say to Toby. I need you here. I don't want to make things worse for him.
The same day that Toby had received a letter from his birth-mother, Dean had received one as well. It was still sealed and tucked away in her… Well his jacket pocket. (Toby had insisted that Dean keep the sage colored army jacket his mother had inherited from her grandfather because Toby insisted that it fit Dean like a glove, so it was meant for him.) He was confident that Toby would be preoccupied in his room for a while so Dean put on his coat and slipped out to the garage to attempt reading it yet again.
To further ensure his privacy (not that it was needed), Dean sat in the backseat of the 1967 GTO that sat, ignored, in the garage. He pulled out the white envelope with the neat, black, block letter inscription:
C/O ROBERT SINGER
SINGER SALVAGE YARD
2156 WESTHAM ROAD
SIOUX FALLS, SOUTH DAKOTA
Unconsciously he shook it again to test its weight, trying to determine what was inside with the letter. Since Toby had allowed him to read the letter addressed to him, Dean assumed that his letter was written at the same period of time. He tried to imagine where he was this time five years ago and shuddered because she had most likely written it not knowing that there was little to no chance that he would receive it, given where he was back then.
Alright, you've put this off long enough; he scolded himself before carefully ripping the envelope open.
As he pulled the piece of paper out, a small silver key dropped into his lap. He lifted it up into the light and flipped it over a couple of times, but found no clue what it belonged to except for a small "33" engraved on one side.
While he held it out skeptically in one hand, he held out the accompanying letter out with the other. Dean had expected a short message telling him what the key opened, but instead the words from her filled the entire page.
FIRST, THANK YOU FOR EVEN OPENING THIS. I WASN'T SURE THAT YOU WOULD. I FEEL KIND OF STUPID ACTUALLY WRITING THIS OUT, BUT IF THIS IS IN YOUR HANDS THEN IT MEANS THAT I'M DEAD. (SORRY! I KNOW IT'S DISGUSTINGLY CLICHÉ, BUT IT IS WHAT IT IS.)
I KNOW MY CONTACTING YOU MAY SEEM COMPLETELY OUT OF LEFT FIELD, BUT THIS REALLY IS SOMETHING I SHOULD HAVE DONE A LONG TIME AGO… EVEN IF I'M EIGHT YEARS TOO LATE. BUT, BACK THEN I WAS TOO HURT, TOO ANGRY, TOO CONFUSED, TOO STUPID AND TOO STUBBORN TO EXPLAIN… APOLOGIZE… WELL, FRANKLY TO DO THE RIGHT THING.
DEAN, I AM SO SORRY THAT I LEFT THINGS WITH YOU THE WAY THAT I DID. I NEVER WANTED TO DIE WITH ANY REGRETS, BUT I FEEL SO ASHAMED OF MYSELF FOR WHAT A BITCH I WAS TO YOU. I WAS DEALING WITH SOMETHING BACK THEN THAT I NOW REALIZE COULD HAVE PRETTY MUCH BEEN RESOLVED IF I HAD JUST BEEN HONEST WITH YOU. (AT LEAST I THINK THAT IT WOULD HAVE BEEN THAT EASY.)
THE KEY THAT I'VE ENCLOSED BELONGS TO A SAFETY DEPOSIT BOX AT THE FIRST NATIONAL BANK IN KIDDER, IOWA. FOR THE RECORD, WHAT YOU WILL FIND IN THERE IS SOMETHING THAT I HAD ALWAYS INTENDED FOR YOU TO HAVE. BUT, PLEASE DON'T FEEL OBLIGATED TO KEEP IT… HOWEVER… IF YOU CHOOSE NOT TO KEEP IT, I WOULD ASK ONE FAVOR OF YOU. (I KNOW I HAVE NO RIGHT TO, BUT CONSIDER IT MY PLEA TO MAKE AMENDS… OR MY DYING WISH… OR WHATEVER ELSE WILL GET YOU THERE.) IF YOU DON'T WANT TO KEEP IT, PLEASE VISIT MAUREEN AND WILLIAM CONNOR. (YOU SHOULD REMEMBER THEM AS MY AUNTIE MO AND UNCLE BILL. I'M SURE THAT IF YOU CALL AHEAD, MO WILL HAVE ONE OF YOUR FAVORITE PIES WAITING FOR YOU.) I WOULD REALLY LIKE YOU TO MEET THEIR… YOU SHOULD MEET TOBY.
ACTUALLY, HIS NAME IS TOBIAS JONATHAN CONNOR… I THOUGHT THAT THIS WOULD BE EASY TO WRITE OUT TO YOU, BUT IT'S NOT.
NINE YEARS AGO I ALLOWED MYSELF TO FALL DESPERATELY IN LOVE WITH YOU AND IF I EVER ALLOWED MYSELF TO BE BRUTALLY HONEST… I STILL AM. GOD THAT'S SO UNFAIR OF ME TO DO TO YOU. I'M SORRY, BUT I NEED YOU TO KNOW THAT AND I HOPE YOU UNDERSTAND THAT IT'S WITH THAT SENTIMENT THAT I SAY ALL OF THIS TO YOU.
I HOPE THAT YOU REMEMBER THAT AMAZING WEEKEND WE SPENT TOGETHER THAT FEBRUARY 8 YEARS AGO BECAUSE I'VE NEVER BEEN ABLE TO FORGET IT. TOBY HAS SERVED AS A CONSTANT REMINDER OF THAT DAY WE SPENT BY AND IN THE POOL. AND YES… THAT TERRIFYING THOUGHT THAT JUST POPPED INTO YOUR HEAD, IT'S TRUE.
I WAS ANGRY WITH YOU BECAUSE YOU NEVER CAME BACK AND I TOOK THAT AS YOUR WAY OF BRUSHING ME OFF… OF COURSE, NOW I'LL NEVER KNOW THE TRUTH, BUT BELIEVE ME WHEN I SAY THAT I KNOW THE BLAME FOR US NOT RECONNECTING LIES ONLY WITH ME. BOBBY TRIED TO GIVE ME YOUR CONTACT INFORMATION, BUT I WAS TOO PIGHEADED TO LISTEN TO HIM.
BUT I DIGRESS… THE IMPORTANT THING I WANTED TO TELL YOU IS THAT YOU HAVE A SON… AT LEAST BIOLOGICALLY YOU DO.
I DIDN'T RAISE HIM, I WASN'T NEAR READY FOR THAT… I STILL DON'T THINK I AM. THE CONNORS ADOPTED HIM THE DAY HE WAS BORN AND THEY HAVE LOVED AND RAISED HIM AS IF HE WAS THEIR OWN. (OR FROM MY OWN PERSONAL EXPERIENCE, THEY'VE TREATED HIM BETTER THAN IF HE WAS THEIR OWN FLESH AND BLOOD.)
THEY ALL KNOW ABOUT OUR 'WORK', SO HE'S AWARE OF WHAT'S OUT THERE. IN FACT, SINCE HE WAS OLD ENOUGH TO UNDERSTAND, HIS BED-TIME STORIES HAVE FEATURED THE MALE LEAD OF 'DEAN WINCHESTER'. (AGAIN BOBBY AND MUM ARE TO BLAME. THEY'VE BEEN MORE THAN WILLING TO KEEP ME UPDATED ABOUT YOU AND YOUR FAMILY. FOR WHAT IT'S WORTH, I'M SORRY ABOUT YOUR DAD. HE WAS… WELL, I MISS HIM.)
AGAIN, I'M SORRY FOR LAYING ALL OF THIS ON YOU LIKE THIS. BUT HE'S YOUR FLESH AND BLOOD, SO I WANTED YOU TO KNOW THAT HE'S OUT THERE. AUNTIE MO IS AWARE THAT I'M WRITING YOU THIS LETTER AND IS HOPING THAT YOU WILL VISIT. I PROMISE, THEY DON'T AND WON'T EXPECT ANYTHING FROM YOU. IF YOU CHOOSE NOT TO GO, THEY UNDERSTAND (NOT THAT IT MATTERS, BUT I DO TOO). I'VE TOLD HIM ABOUT ME, WHO I REALLY AM, BUT I'LL LEAVE THE REST UP TO YOU. HE DOES KNOW OF YOU, BUT JUST THINKS THAT YOU'RE AN AWESOME FIGMENT OF MY IMAGINATION. I FEEL THAT IT'S ONLY FAIR TO LET YOU MAKE THAT DECISION. I HAVEN'T ALLOWED YOU ANY SAY IN THE MATTER, SO I WANTED TO OFFER YOU THAT MUCH, AT THE VERY LEAST.
PLEASE BE SAFE DEAN. YOU MAY NOT CARE ABOUT MY OPINION, BUT I KNOW IN MY HEART THAT THIS WORLD IS BETTER OFF WITH YOU IN IT. HUNDREDS (HELL, BY NOW, MAYBE EVEN THOUSANDS) OF PEOPLE OWE THEIR LIVES TO YOU (AND YOUR FAMILY). I HOPE YOU AND SAM FIND A WAY OUT OF YOUR DEAL.
I LOVE YOU. I TRULY (OH GOD… TRULY, MADLY, DEEPLY) DO. AGAIN, I'M SORRY… FOR EVERYTHING.
I ONLY HOPE THAT ONE DAY YOU CAN FORGIVE ME.
Dean refolded the letter and put it back into its envelope. He could feel the corners of his lips tugging into a grin at the words that he had just read. He gripped the key tightly in his fist and laid down on the backseat.
Damn you Lay, he thought fondly to himself. We are both idiots.
"Dean! Dean! Damn it! Wake up!"
"Addy?" He replied from the backseat, coming out of his haze… But only slightly.
"Yeah, it's me. Please, just keep talking to me, okay? Mum said I should keep you talking," she pleaded only allowing her eyes to sporadically leave the road to look at him in the rearview mirror.
"You… You… Shot me," he rasped.
She knew that there was no need to hide her reaction and she visibly winced, as if he had hit her, at his reply. "But I didn't mean to," she tearfully whined. "Mum and I didn't know that you and John were working this case. How was I to know that you'd pop up behind that spirit like that?"
"Shot me… With…"His breathing became more labored and he could barely speak while he caught his breath.
"I know Dean… With rock salt," she finished for him. "But it's better than buck shot, right?" She attempted to joke to stave off her tears. "Dean! Keep pressure on our chest!"
"Don't… Want… Your… Interior… Ruined?" He tried to tease through tortured and ragged breath.
"Fuck the interior!" She shot back heatedly. "It can be replaced, you can't! I don't want you to bleed to death… I can't replace you."
He managed to sit up after she had the door opened and tried to give her a strong smile. She helped him to his feet and shut the door with her hip. Addy tried her best to maintain some pressure on his wounds while also holding up his weight as they walked.
She had already unlocked her room's door before retrieving Dean and as she pushed it open with her foot, Dean protested, "This isn't my room."
"I know. Mum and John thought it would be better if I fixed you up before Sam sees you," she explained sitting him on the bed.
He laid back on the bed and tried his best to steady his breathing. Addy shot him a few worried glances as she gathered up all of the necessary supplies from a bag by the bathroom. When she got back to Dean's side, he had one hand holding their flannel shirts to his chest and his other arm was covering his closed eyes. Miraculously, he was able to stabilize his breathing, which helped to calm Addy's nerves.
"Dean? Do you think you can sit up so I can get your shirt off?"
He was nodding behind his arm as he sat up. She gently guided his arms in the air and peeled away the damaged cotton.
"You know Lay… If you wanted to see me with my shirt off, all you had to do was ask," Dean joke hoarsely.
She gently pushed his shoulders so that he would lay down again and light-heartedly replied, "Pretty sure last time I didn't have to ask."
He started laughing and she hoped that that would distract him from the pain as she continued working as quickly as possible. Once she had all of the blood cleaned away, she used some tweezers to pluck out any pieces of rock salt that remained embedded in his flesh. She was only able to keep her tears from falling once his chest was clean because she finally had confirmation that the abrasions weren't as deep as she had anticipated.
She quickly shoved the needle and spools of thread away to get to the gauze and tape. Dean's face contorted in pain sporadically, but she let John's word of advice replay over and over in her mind to keep her on task.
DON'T WORRY SO MUCH DARLIN'… JUST FOCUS ON THE WOUND, NOT MY FACE.
She finished taping the last bit of gauze on his chest and smiled, feeling very satisfied with her handiwork. His facial features had softened, his breathing remained steady and his eyes remained closed, so she assumed that he had fallen asleep. Addy couldn't fully comprehend how someone could sleep after enduring such and injury, but she figured that there was no reason to question it. Instead, she put away all of the supplies and then knelt down beside the bed and removed Dean's boots.
As she reached for the button on Dean's jeans, she could feel her cheeks burning hot with embarrassment. The last time she removed his pants, she wasn't able to see much in the backseat of the Impala, so she felt slightly shy about undressing him in this bright light. Dean still hadn't let on that he wasn't sleeping when he felt her knuckles touch the flesh near his mid-section. He could sense her apprehension, so instead of waiting for her to make up her mind, Dean took each of her hands in his and pulled her down onto his chest.
"Dean! You're hurt!" She shrieked in protest, struggling slightly in his grasp.
"And you patched me up… Really well…" He countered. "Let me thank you."
She tried to push herself away from him for fear of injuring him even more, but Dean pulled her down after every attempt. Before she could mount a new protest, he smothered her mouth with his own. It took a few seconds before she relaxed into the embrace, but she still tried to hold her weight off his chest, just in case.
Dean could feel her tired arms trembling from her trying to keep her bodyweight off of his chest, so he pulled her close and rolled them onto their sides. She sighed with relief into his mouth, but didn't make any other attempts to break their kiss. Addy started to press herself closer to him, but stopped when she seemed to remember that she shouldn't. Now that his wounds were cleaned and covered, Dean had no hesitations about holding her tight. He took a hold of her hip, pressed himself closer to her and then draped her leg over his waist.
When she didn't object, he gently rolled her onto her back and gently held her leg in place around his waist was he started to nibble at her neck. She moaned with satisfaction while massaging his scalp and allowed him to hook her other leg around his waist as well.
"Dean… Yes…" She panted encouragingly.
He pressed his palms onto the mattress to push himself up to look down at her. Dean winced when his actions caused the tape to pull and Addy caught the mild, anguished look in his eye.
"Dean… I don't want to stop, but are you sure that you're okay to… You know?"
He leaned down and kissed her then playfully answered, "I'm okay, but what is this 'you know' you speak of?"
"Dean," she replied through a giggle. "You know," she continued while she worked at undoing his jeans.
"Hmm… I may have hit my head when you shot me. Remind me what it is," he teased amorously, slipping his hand under her t-shirt.
His hand slid up her ribcage and stopped when he didn't meet the usual barrier of a bra. He snaked his fingers under the elastic of her bra tank and lowered his lips to her ear, "You're not wearing a bra, Lay?"
She gasped at the sensation his hand elicited on her bare skin. "Dean… When you call me 'Lay'," she scolded breathlessly. "It makes… This seems so…"
"So what, Lay?"
Before she could answer they both froze when they heard the room door open. Dean retracted his hand while rolling off Addy's body and promptly fell to the ground, fumbling with the button on his pants all the while. Addy sat up straight and smoothed down her t-shirt in an attempt to hide any evidence of what they were doing.
Vicki nonchalantly placed Addy's duffle bag on a chair by the door and smiled warmly asking," Are you feeling better Dean?"
The two younger hunters were on their feet on opposite sides of the bed and Dean nodded vigorously. He quickly noticed that he wasn't wearing a shirt and tried to cross his arms over his chest, but his injuries severely impeded that action. Addy looked at the foot of the bed at their two blood encrusted flannel shirts, but remained completely immobile.
Vicki laughed at their embarrassment and tossed Dean a shirt that she had carried in with her. "Relax, John went to check on Sam to make sure that his fever has broken. I won't be telling him about what I saw."
Addy still wouldn't move a muscle, but now that Dean was fully clothed, he returned to his more usual, jovial self and replied, "Thanks Vicki… I should probably get over there and check on Sammy too."
He walked around the bed and kissed Addy's cheek then whispered, "I'll call you later, okay? Just breathe, you're mom's cool."
He turned back around to leave, flashed her mother a bright grin and said, "Thanks again for the shirt. I'll see ya around Vicki. Take care."
She lightly squeezed his forearm and replied, "You too Dean. We'll be spending the night, so remind your dad to come and get me if he needs any help with Sam."
"Yes Ma'am, I will. Good Night."
After he was out the door, Vicki locked the deadbolt slowly. As she turned around and started preparing for bed, she remained completely silent. Addy watched her mother apprehensively, still anchored to her spot, while she awaited the lecture she thought was inevitable. Vicki however just moved around the room silently continuing her regular routine.
When Vicki stepped into the bathroom, Addy finally moved and stripped out of her bloody clothes to change into her nightwear. At the bathroom sink, her mother passed Addy her toothbrush (just like she did every night when they shared a motel room), but didn't make eye contact.
Addy slowly claimed her toothbrush and quietly blurted, "I'm so sorry Mum. I really am!"
Vicki rinsed out her mouth and turned to face her daughter then very calmly stated, "Adelaide, I've already told you how I feel about this situation and you promised me that you would behave like the mature woman I know you are…" She paused and brushed a tear from Addy's cheek. "Just… Make sure you're safe, okay? I just don't want him to break my little Roo's heart… Now I'm exhausted from helping John, so if you still want to talk in the morning, we can, okay?"
Addy nodded, hugged her mother tightly and whispered, "Okay… G'Night Mum. I love you."
Vicki kissed her cheek then said, "I love you too Roo. Sleep tight."
Vicki fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow, but Addy laid on her back staring at the ceiling gripping her phone tight. She was just about to illuminate the clock again when it finally came to life.
She silently rolled off the bed and slipped into the bathroom to try to keep from waking her mother.
"Hey Lay, how'd it go with Vicki?" He asked in a hushed tone.
"Not as bad as I thought. How's Sam doing?"
"He was still throwing up when we got back so dad and I packed up and are taking him to a friend of Bobby's that's a doctor a few counties over. Sorry, but I couldn't call til we stopped for gas."
"Oh… So I won't see you in the morning?" She asked without thinking or trying to sound like she was guilt tripping him.
"No, sorry you won't. But I'll try to visit in the New Year, okay?"
"Of course it is. I hope Sam is going to be okay. I'll call you later to check up. I love you Dean."
"Sounds good. I love you too Lay."
Dean was awoken by the sound of the garage door closing under its own weight. He sat up on the seat and ran his hand across the leather relishing the memory of the first time he finally got to ride in Addy's car, even if it wasn't the happiest night they spent together.
Toby was walking past the car with his arm filled with supplies that they would need to finish their work in the house. When he caught a glimpse of someone in the backseat of the GTO, he dropped everything in his hands. Before he could scream, Dean stepped out and started to pick up the moving materials.
"Sorry Buddy, I didn't mean to scare you like that," Dean said repentantly.
Toby started to retrieve some of the items off of the ground closest to his feet and shrugged nonchalantly, "I wasn't scared, I was just startled."
Dean laughed silently to himself, but allowed Toby to put on his tough exterior. After all of the supplies were found, they started out of the garage side by side. The younger male had a million questions he wanted to ask his dad, but he remained mute. He hoped that Dean would share it all if he allowed his dad to go at his own pace.
At the bottom of the stairs, Dean stopped and turned to Toby and held out the small key commenting simply, "I got one too."
CHANGE OF POV
It was still too stifling hot and every inch of my body felt like it was on fire. Before I opened my eyes, I had made a resolve to myself that today was the day. I had to get out of here, by any means necessary, so today was the day I would choose my own fate. Today, I would say 'Yes'… Yes, I would step off the rack and place souls on it for their eternal punishment.
I had reasoned with myself that it wasn't the worst thing that I could do because these souls had be sent to Hell after all… Didn't they deserve to be punished? I wouldn't allow myself to consider that they too could be the souls of people who had made a deal in a moment of weak desperation because I needed to get out… Even if that mean becoming Crowley's number one enforcer and leaving Hell in demon form.
At least then, I would be out.
I had no tears to shed even though my entire soul ached, hating this plan with a fiery passion. But I needed to be free… Away from Sydney because he was literally destroying my essence now. But now I could use that anger… I no longer had to suppress it or ask for forgiveness. I could punish him for all of the years of neglect. I could have revenge.
I took in a deep breath and raised my head defiantly in anticipation of reclaiming my life. When I opened my eyes, there was no way that I could have hidden my shock.
My mouth hung open as I took in the familiar smell of cheap air freshener and laundry detergent. Even though every muscle in my body still ached, I was no seated on a cheap, lumpy double bed instead of having each limb being impaled on the Rack.
I heard someone clear their throat and I turned my head until my eyes locked with a pair of the kindest eyes I have ever seen.
They smiled brightly and greeted me warmly saying, "Good morning Addy. I hope you had a good rest."