By the Book (The Last Picks #7)

Chapter 14

I gave him a few minutes after the shower stopped, and then I knocked on his bedroom door.

The silence that answered me was so deep that it felt like I had vertigo.

I worked my throat a couple of times, trying not to squeak like I was on the brink of puberty, and finally managed to say, “Bobby?”

Again, the silence. And then his voice painfully neutral, “Yeah?”

“Can I come in?”

It felt even longer this time before he said in that affectless voice, “Yeah.”

I opened the door. He stood at a tallboy, looking through one of the drawers, with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. I forgot why I’d come up here. Bobby isn’t a meathead, but he is definitely…solid. And defined. And strong. And beads of water glistened on his shoulders and in the defined cut between his pecs. He had a scattering of freckles above his hip. I could see the little trail of dark hair below his navel.

Apparently, I was being enough of a creeper that he noticed, because he looked over at me. His normally carefully parted hair was wet and tangled, and it made him look younger, vulnerable. His expression was wary. You did this, I thought. You put him in this position.

“I’m sorry,” I said. I cleared my throat, stepped inside, and shut the door behind me. “I wanted to apologize. I’m sorry about last night. I’m sorry I went to that beach house even though I told you I wouldn’t. I’m so sorry, Bobby. I know I promised. And I feel like such an idiot for—for all of it. I shouldn’t have done it. It was wrong, and I’m really sorry.”

He nodded, and then, turning back to the drawer, he said, “It’s okay.”

And that was it.

He pulled on a T-shirt. It was like the one he’d bought me—good quality, simple, and a fantastic fit. It was white, and he was practically glowing inside it. He opened another drawer, lower down, and started rummaging through his shorts.

“Well,” I said, “it doesn’t feel like it’s okay. It feels like—I mean, I understand that when I promise something, and I don’t keep my promise, it makes it hard for you to trust me. And your trust means so much to me, Bobby. I love you, and I respect you, and I’m so happy being with you. When I’m not screwing everything up, I mean. I’m ashamed of how I acted, and I want you to know that I’m not going to do it again. And whatever I have to do to make it up to you, I’ll do it. I hope you’ll give me the chance.”

He gave me another of those nods, this time without even looking over at me. He found a pair of black shorts, shut the drawer, and started a search for underwear. His voice was controlled when he spoke. That was the best word for it. Quiet, yes. Even, yes. But mostly controlled.

“It’s my fault,” he said. “I shouldn’t have asked you to wait. I should have called in.”

“What? Bobby, no.”

“It’s okay. Next time, I know what to do.”

I shook my head. “That’s not—no, I’m the one who messed up. I made a mistake.”

“It’s okay,” he said again. “It won’t happen again.”

“Don’t do that,” I said.

Bobby looked at me.

“I don’t want you to do that.”

“Do what?”

“Make this your thing. This is my thing. I’m the one who messed up.”

“I’m not—”

“I didn’t pay the light bill.”

Bobby blinked. “I know. You forgot—”

“No, I didn’t forget to pay it. I just didn’t pay it. For, like, months, Bobby. That’s why they turned the power off.”

Several seconds passed as Bobby seemed to do some kind of internal calculus. Then, in a tone of utter bafflement, he said, “Why?”

“Because I didn’t have enough money. I’ve used up all my savings. My parents cut me off. I’ve got nothing left. I’m behind on the other utilities too.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? I could have helped you.” A hint of hurt showed behind his usual composure. “Dash, I can’t believe you didn’t say something.”

“I know. I know I should have talked to you. I know I should have told you what was going on.” I drew a deep breath. “But there’s this part of me that didn’t want to, I don’t know, give up.”

“It’s not giving up—”

“Bobby, please. Let me finish.”

After a moment, he nodded.

“There’s always been someone in my life to take care of me. To do the stuff I didn’t want to do. The whole time I was with Hugo, he took care of me. And before that, my parents took care of me. I mean, they were wrapped up in themselves the whole time, but they made it easy for me to avoid anything even resembling adult responsibilities. They’re still trying to take care of me, actually—all this stuff with Phil, and my writing career. They want to make it easy for me, even though I’ve asked them not to. They drive me crazy, but I know they’re trying to help.” I stopped. Scratched the back of my head. “Hugo paid all the bills. He cleaned the condo. He told me when we were on a diet and when we could have a cheat meal. I didn’t like that. I didn’t like Hugo making all the decisions. But I also didn’t know how to do it any differently. And yeah, part of that was Hugo being Hugo. He’s not a bad person. But he can also be, well, suffocating. But part of it was that, when things get hard, I have this habit of taking the easy way out. I don’t like that about myself. I don’t want to keep doing that. When I came to Hastings Rock, it was the first time I genuinely felt free.”

Seconds ticked past before he said stiffly, “And I’m suffocating you too.”

“No. God, no. Bobby, I love you.”

“You loved Hugo.”

“No. I thought I loved Hugo. Or—or I wondered if I loved him. Or I thought I should love him. But I didn’t love him. I love you.”

Outside, a gull screeched, and then the silence plummeted down again. When Bobby spoke, his voice still held some of that stiffness. “I love you too.”

“One of the reasons I wanted to start over was because I wanted to—I wanted not to be the same person I’d always been. I wanted a chance to be myself, not just Jonny and Patricia’s accessory, and not Hugo’s project. It turns out, I’m not that great at a lot of this stuff. I’m lazy. I’m selfish. I’d way rather play video games than write. I’m clearly not a financial whiz. And yeah, I messed up. But those mistakes are mine, you know? I got to make them. That matters to me. Maybe nobody else can see it, but I’m a different person than I was when I came here. And I want to keep growing. Someday, I want to be the kind of guy who deserves you.”

Bobby took slow, deep breaths. He reached up, brushed my hair back from my forehead, and said, “You’re not lazy. And you’re not selfish. You’ve helped so many people since you came here. You’ve helped me. I don’t know what my life would be like if I hadn’t met you. I don’t want to know what my life would be like without you.”

My throat was dry, but somehow I managed to say, “It definitely wouldn’t involve as many donuts.”

He didn’t say anything to that. He watched me, considering. And then he said, “If there’s something wrong, I want to help.”

“I know you do.”

“No, I’m saying—” A rare moment of vulnerability left his expression transparent, and I watched him search for words. “Dash, you’re right. It’s important that you get to make decisions. Make mistakes. All of that. You’ve had a lot of people in your life try to—to make you whatever they wanted you to be, and I don’t want to be one of them. I want you to be whoever you want to be, because I think you’re wonderful.” His hands found mine, and his thumbs chafed my knuckles. “But it’s hard for me not to want to—to fix things. There’s this part of me that thinks if I just try hard enough, I can fix anything. That there’s something I could have done better. I know I need to leave room for you to make your own decisions. But I also think part of being in a relationship is being a team. We’re a team, you and I. I love you. I want to help you. I want to make everything better for you.” A shadow of that goofy grin slipped out. “Like making sure you don’t die of scurvy before you turn thirty.”

“Okay, but first of all, one juice box of Hi-C has enough vitamins—”

“You need to talk to me about the big stuff,” Bobby said, his voice firm and calm and even. “And I’ll work on not trying to fix everything. Deal?”

I nodded.

“We’re going to pay the utility bills on Monday,” Bobby said.

I nodded again.

“And we’ll figure out the money—”

“Actually, I might have an idea about that.” To Bobby’s curious look, I said, “I got the idea from Stewart of all people. I need to flesh it out, but I think it could work.”

“Okay.” Bobby squeezed my hands. “There’s one more thing we need to talk about.”

I groaned.

“Your parents,” Bobby said.

I double groaned.

“We’re together now,” Bobby said over me. “That means we’re in each other’s lives. And that means, at some point, you’re going to have to let me talk to your parents.”

“What if we compromise? What if you arrest them, and you mirandize them, and we count that as a conversation?”

Bobby gave me a look.

“They’d love it!”

“I know they’re overbearing,” he said. “I know they’re focused on themselves. I know they’ve hurt you and disappointed you.”

“And they called you Hugo.”

“That wasn’t my favorite moment.” He let a beat pass before he said, “This is part of being a couple. And just so you know, it’s going to be ten times worse when you meet my parents, so please bear that in mind when you think about how big a deal you want to make this.”

I groaned again, but more quietly this time. It was a giving-up groan.

“Thank you for apologizing,” Bobby said. “I wasn’t happy that you went to George’s beach house without me, but I understand it wasn’t your idea. I don’t ever want anything bad to happen to you, and I’m scared that one of these days, you’ll get hurt when I’m not there to help you.”

“Thank you for understanding that my parents are complete and total lunatics,” I said. “Also, I want you to know that the whole arresting them thing, that offer is still wide open.”

Bobby huffed a little laugh and kissed me.

A knock at the door made me jump.

“Sorry to interrupt,” my mom said as she poked her head in.

“We were wondering,” my dad said behind her, “if we could take you boys out to dinner.”

“To celebrate closing the case.”

“We didn’t close the case,” I said. “We stumbled to the end of the case. Barely.”

Bobby made a little noise.

It cost me a lot to say, “Yeah, fine, whatever.”

“Very mature,” Bobby murmured.

I didn’t dignify that with a response.