Chapter 19
Sumner
“Do you want ice cream?”
I turned my head to see him standing in the kitchen. He’d just finished cleaning up while I sat on the couch and watched TV.
That was another thing Joey never did. I’d always been the one to cook and clean while he either went to the gym or spent his time cursing at whoever had pissed him off that day.
Sly was different in that way, and not only because we were at his place. He did this at my apartment, too. He’d put away dishes, make tea, and make sure I was comfortable.
The more time I spent with him, the more my heart loosened its grip.
As scary as it was, I stopped running through worst-case scenarios the way I always had, and a certainty about what might lie ahead for us began to replace the doubt.
I didn’t rush to name what I was feeling or drag it into the open.
I kept protecting my peace while I learned to trust again.
That trust didn’t feel fragile. It felt earned, and I knew he’d give me the time I needed.
“Do you have any here?” I asked, turning more on the couch to face him.
“Yeah.” He squinted, trying to remember what he had in the freezer. “At least I think I do.”
I watched him pull open the door, lean forward, and dig through the shelves. A sigh followed the sound of frozen bags shifting. “Fuck. I don’t have any.”
“That’s okay,” I said, smiling gently. “Dinner was enough.”
He turned, still holding the freezer door open, and gave me a look that said he didn’t agree. “That’s good, baby, but I think I need some.”
I pursed my lips. “You got a sweet tooth?”
“Always had,” he said with a grin, letting the door close with a soft thud. “It’s my one vice.”
I laughed quietly and said, “We can go to the convenience store across the street. Get you some ice cream.”
He raised a brow. “You want to go?”
“Yeah,” I said, already reaching for the blanket to fold it over the armrest. “I’ll come with you. It’s not like it’s far.”
His smirk softened into a smile as he crossed the kitchen toward me. “You sure you’re not too tired?”
I shook my head. “No. I could use some fresh air.”
He stopped in front of the couch, one hand running through his hair as he looked down at me. “This might sound cheesy, but I’ve always wanted to go on a late-night ice cream run with someone.”
“You did?” I looked up at him, wide-eyed.
“Yeah, and I couldn’t have wished for anyone better than you.”
He held out his hand, and I took it, letting him help me up from the couch. My smile grew, and my cheeks flushed, which was something that happened a lot because of him.
“Well, let’s get you that ice cream then,” I said, squeezing his hand once.
As we walked through the aisles of the convenience store, I passed all the chocolate bars and bags of chips, and my stomach started to growl as if I hadn’t eaten a proper meal just a couple of hours ago. Maybe a snack wouldn’t hurt.
I stopped in front of the chips, staring at the endless options, unsure which to pick.
Choosing had never been something I was allowed to do much with Joey, but this felt different.
Maybe it was because I finally had the chance to think about what I actually wanted, instead of just following someone else’s choices.
With Joey, I never got to choose. Everything we ate was what he wanted.
Everything in the fridge was his choice.
Every movie, every plan, he had dictated every small decision, and I had gotten used to following along without question.
Standing there now, looking at all these options, I realized how strange it felt to actually get to choose for myself.
I lingered a little longer, taking it all in, letting myself notice the colors of the packaging, and the fact that no one was pressuring me. For once, this was about what I wanted without fear or obligation. It was a small moment, but it felt bigger than anything I’d felt in a long time.
It felt strange to actually be able to choose, to take my time and decide without anyone standing over me, judging me, or threatening me if I picked the wrong thing. The freedom was almost dizzying.
“Are you thinking about getting something too?” Sly’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts. I turned my head to him and gave a small nod.
“I figured if we’re going to watch a movie, I should get a snack too,” I said, forcing a smile. “So you don’t have to eat alone.”
“You’re sweet,” he said, placing a hand on my lower back as he glanced at the chips. “Which ones do you like?”
“Those,” I said, pointing at the salt and vinegar chips, then lifted my hand again to indicate the spicy wave ones. “Those, too.”
“Let’s get both,” he suggested.
“What? No, that’s too much,” I said, shaking my head.
“So? We don’t have to eat them all at once. But if we take both, you get to eat both.”
It felt almost unreal to even think about having two open bags of chips without finishing them.
With Joey, that had never been an option.
He hated open bags of anything. He called it wasteful, so he’d either eat everything before I had the chance to touch it, or he’d stop me from getting anything for myself in the first place, because what he had gotten was enough for both of us.
The memory made my body tense. A dull heaviness spread through me, and I caught myself slipping back into that old shame. I hated how small I’d let myself become back then. I hated how easily I’d stopped standing up for myself.
Because of him, I rarely bought anything just for myself. Nothing I truly wanted ever made it into our shopping cart, and anything I did manage to get had to be shared with Joey—or was eaten by him before I even got a chance.
“Are you sure?” I asked, furrowing my brows.
“Of course. If you want them, you take them.” His voice carried a mix of worry and frustration.
He could tell my hesitation had to do with Joey.
Even though Joey was out of my life, I hated how much it still got to him.
I appreciated Sly’s protectiveness, but seeing him upset over someone I was trying to forget made my chest tighten.
I turned more toward him and took his hand in mine, my fingers intertwining with his instinctively. A rush of emotions unexpectedly pushed up from my chest to my throat, but I held them in as best I could. Crying in a convenience store late at night wasn’t something I wanted to experience.
“You make me feel so special,” I whispered, my voice trembling just slightly.
He smiled softly and waited, patient, giving me space to say more, but that was all I could manage without breaking.
He somehow knew the exact way to be there without overwhelming me.
He moved with care, protecting me in ways he didn’t need to, showing me that not all men were selfish or cruel, and that kindness still existed.
His eyes softened even more, and he lifted his hands toward me, pausing with a question in his gaze. “May I?”
I nodded, stepping closer without hesitation.
He cupped my face gently, his thumbs brushing over my cheeks, and I closed my eyes for a moment, leaning into the touch.
“Hey,” he murmured, his forehead resting against mine, “you don’t have to carry all that by yourself anymore.”
I felt my chest loosen slightly. The weight I’d carried for so long eased with every word he said.
“You know,” he continued, keeping his voice low, “you don’t have to apologize for feeling or for needing care. You don’t have to hide pieces of yourself to make the world easier for others. I like you. All of you, even the parts you think are broken.”
My throat tightened, and I blinked back the tears. “I…I don’t even know what to say.”
“You don’t need to say anything,” he assured me. “Just know that I see you. And I’m not going anywhere.”
I let a shiver of relief escape. “I know,” I whispered.
He didn’t say anything else, just stayed there, letting me feel seen, letting me feel safe. And in that quiet, in the middle of rows of chips and candy, I told myself that I didn’t have to be afraid anymore. Not with him.
“I’ll take both chips then,” I finally said, letting a laugh bubble up inside of me.
He grinned and took a step back before reaching for the chips I had shown him minutes ago, then he tipped his head toward the freezers. “Come on. Help me choose what flavors to get.”
I nodded, but before we headed over there, I stopped him and said, “You make me feel amazing.”
“You’re amazing,” he said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Well, at least to him it was.