Fowl Play (Tuft Swallow)

54. Brian

CHAPTER 54

Deep breath, Brian. This doesn’t have to be scary.

Except it’s terrifying. This is something I’ve kept myself from doing because I’m not prepared for the consequences should it go horribly wrong. Which, knowing me and my history with dating, it’s almost certain to.

Except…it feels different this time.

As I stare at the empty dresser drawer in front of me, my phone buzzes. Leonard Landon, wanting to come in for a follow-up adjustment. He tweaked his shoulder at the library last week, and apparently I helped him feel so much better he wants to come in regularly. I’ve been getting more and more calls and texts from the people of Tuft Swallow: word’s getting around that I’m the guy to help with injury recovery and chronic pain. Even with the Nosy Pecker gossiping about my love life.

I worried after moving here that a small town wouldn’t have enough clients for me to eke out a living by myself. When I’d first bought this place on Elm Street, I’d assumed that I’d only be alone here for a few months before Zeke might move in with me.

I shake my head. I sure misread that.

That’s why I’m trying to make sure I take things more slowly with Kodi. We may have moved a bit fast at first, kind of stumbling into our attraction before we intended to–or even without intending to–but that doesn’t mean we have to start picking out wallpaper.

In the past, I dove head-first into fantasies about forever with someone before knowing their real interests or where they come from. Moving in together after only a couple months, only to end up being completely incompatible and getting on each other’s nerves. This time, I want to do things right: starting small.

My gaze flicks back to the piles of my own clothes that I emptied from the middle drawer of my dresser to make room for Kodi’s things. One drawer, one shelf–just enough to let her know she’s got a safe space here, without making her think she needs to spend the night every day of the week. Now that she’s back on her feet, I want her to know I trust her to handle the rest of her recovery without my constant supervision.

I walk over to the laundry basket, where the three pairs of underwear I’ve sequestered away since we started dating are freshly laundered and folded. I place them and some pajamas I bought for her in the drawer. Then I put the card I found for her at The Plot Chickens, the local bookstore, along with a book that the couple who run the shop recommended to me when I told them my girlfriend liked John Green novels.

I want to learn more about you, I want the gifts to say. I want to support your hobbies.

Especially after that misunderstanding in the diner earlier today, I feel like I need to clarify that I’m okay with her doing things that aren’t my cup of tea. Whether that’s the books she reads or the sports she plays. I even cleared out some space on one of my bookshelves where she can keep some of her things if she wants to.

I push the drawer closed, excited for her to come home from Girls’ Night so I can show her. As I’m folding the rest of the laundry and putting it away, I come across something hidden behind Kodi’s crutches on the top shelf of the closet.

Kodi and Lily’s BFF Diary:

KEEP OUT!

I chuckle, wedging the composition notebook out of its hiding place. I’d forgotten that I stole this the morning after our first sleepover. At the time, I thought it would be a funny thing to hold over her head when she was in one of her hyper-competitive, show-no-weakness moments.

But since Lily helped me find Kodi after she ran away from dinner with her parents, I feel differently about their history and friendship. There’s a lot more to the flighty redhead than meets the eye, and she knows more about Kodi’s past than I’ve learned from her in the short time we’ve been together. In fact, their friendship is something I want to be particularly supportive of: not just for the health of our relationship, but for Lily too, who seems to need her friend far more than she lets on.

As I’m trying to parse out what to do with the journal, whether I should sneak it back into Kodi’s closet where I found it or come clean about having stolen it in the first place, I hear the old floors creak as footsteps approach from the hall.

“Hey honey,” she calls from the doorway. I quickly shove the journal back into the closet.

“Hey!” I lean in the doorway, trying to look like I wasn’t just sneaking her childhood diary under her crutches. “How was girls’ night?”

She eyes me curiously. “Good. Why are you in the closet?”

“I was putting away laundry.” I leave the half truth. “I have a surprise for you.”

The suspicion fades from her expression and she tilts her head, her bottom lip pouting temptingly. “Oh?”

“Mmhmm.” I can’t leave her alone with her looking like that, so I cross the few feet between us and wrap my arms around her waist. I give her a real greeting, nipping at her pouty lips until her mouth opens to me. I can taste the discount margarita on her lips, along with something spicy that makes me think she might have had tacos for dinner. But as she relaxes into my hold and the kiss deepens, those surface flavors fade and make way for the more familiar sweetness that is simply her.

I sweep my hands up her sculpted back and shoulders and lift her to tiptoes before stepping back. “I wanted to give you something.”

“What?”

Her eyes sparkle, a smirk lifting the corners of her mouth, and I nod my head to the dresser. “Open it.”

Her slender fingers skim across the wood of the handle, and she looks to me once more for confirmation before sliding it open.

“My underwear!” Her expression shifts from curiosity to surprise to pure heat in less than a second. She grabs the silky blue pair from our first time and waves it at my face, narrowing her eyes at me. “I knew they didn’t burn up in the fire!”

“Guilty,” I tease. “There’s more.”

“How many of these did you fucking stea–” her breath catches as she spots the book. She abandons the panties and runs her fingers over the gold-colored cover. “What’s–?”

“The Longspurs suggested it. You said you like stuff like John Green, and they said this author is similar, but with more adult themes. Plus, the main character plays tennis, so I thought there might be more sports in this one. Since that was a complaint you had about hockey romances…”

I’m one-hundred percent rambling now, nervous that she might absolutely hate this gift. I mean, have I ever even seen her reading? But I’m also trying to telegraph reassurance into every word: I care about your interests. I want to enjoy them with you, even if I don’t fully participate.

Once I pictured what that might look like: my beautiful girlfriend curling up on the couch reading one of her books while I sit beside her reading on my kindle, talking about them over dinner and then snuggling to watch something on TV together before bed…the vision was so appealing I couldn’t help but want to stuff my shelves with books she’d enjoy. Fill the house with excuses for her to stay by my side forever.

But then I remembered that I’m starting small.

I let my words trail off, and she opens the card. Moisture gathers in her eyes as she scans over how proud I am of her and her recovery, and my explanation that this is her drawer now, so she never has to worry about whether or not she can spend the night. She mouths the last few lines:

The journey of you getting stronger the past two months is my new favorite story. I can’t wait to be by your side as you write the next chapters. Maybe even here, at my place.

But I don’t want to move too fast. So how do you feel about starting one drawer at a time?

I zero in on the back and forth movements of her eyes, holding my breath until they land on my signature at the bottom, where I’d signed Love, Brian.

Her hand rises to her mouth, and she glances back at the drawer.

“I cleared off a shelf for you too.”

The tears clumping her eyelashes catch the light as she turns to me. “You want me to move in with you?”

“Not right away!” I assure her. “I know I tend to move too fast, and it’s bitten me in the ass before. But I just want you to know that I’m serious about us, and I want you to feel comfortable–”

Wet cheeks brush mine as she throws her arms around me and tackles me on the bed.

“Stop talking,” she mutters into the comforter beside my head. Then she kisses me on the cheek. “This is the sweetest gift anyone’s ever given me. I love it.”

“Even the book?”

She laughs. “Yes, even the book. In fact, I need to decompress. Maybe I’ll start reading it tonight.”

“Oh? Was Girls’ Night not good?”

She shrugs. “I’m just nervous about the championship and it’s getting to me. I appealed to the league about the plastic boards last week and the complaint got thrown out. And Lily thought I was making too much of it, but–” she stops herself, glancing at me, and lets out a deep breath. “I’m just stressed about it all.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

She bites her lip, then shakes her head. “No, no, that’s okay. I just want to curl up with you and go to bed.”

She kisses me, squeezing her legs around my waist where she has me pinned beneath her, and I feel the tell-tale thickening below my belt.

I gasp for air. “I might not be ready for bed just yet…”

“Oh?” She grinds her hips, understanding lighting her amber eyes. “What do you have in mind?”

I kiss her again, and since my mouth is occupied, I decide to show her what I have in mind instead.