Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
I’m the first to wake, but I lie still as I memorize this morning.
The way the sun fills Will’s room with a warm yellow glow.
The dancing green of the trees beyond his window as the leaves stir with the breeze.
Most of all, there’s the amazing warmth of him in my arms and the soft sound of his breathing.
There’s the sensation of his hair tickling my jaw as he remains curled into my side, his arm curved over my chest.
I don’t know how long I stay like that, till he finally wakes. I watch him take stock too. “Good morning,” I whisper.
He gives me a sleepy smile. “Good morning.”
“Bad news. We screwed up on midnight, I’m afraid.”
He laughs, then shifts to look at me. I reach out to lightly rake his jaw and stubble with my fingernails. “I suppose you’re right.”
I search his eyes, looking for clues. “No regrets, I hope.”
Will’s smile is wry. “No regrets.”
There’s something that feels like a pause because I sense he’s not quite up for a repeat.
“But?” I press.
“There’s no but.” I trace his shoulder as he shivers at my touch. “God. Dylan.”
“I’m not actually a god, contrary to popular opinion. But I’m personally really glad you think I am.”
When he laughs again, it’s thrilling. Like a choice reward, knowing that in the moment, he’s happy and at ease. Because I can tell he’s even more gifted at overthinking than I am. “Maybe a lesser deity, then.”
“Lesser! How about greater?”
His grin lights up his face as he sits up, rubbing his eyes. The sight of him is delicious: his toned body, the light down that covers his chest. Even the pinkness of his skin from yesterday’s sun. Then he shakes his head at me, resting a hand on my chest. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
“What do you want to do?” I search his eyes like there’s a way to decode his mood from sight alone. “Kick me out of your bed for stealing the blankets?”
“Maybe make tea.”
“Or coffee?”
“Or coffee,” he confirms, shifting to the side of the bed.
He fumbles in the bottom drawer for boxers.
Will sits on the edge of the bed to pull them on, puts on some pajama bottoms, then leans to put on his leg.
When he stands, I’m rewarded with the glorious sight of him standing in sunlight like something a sculptor created.
“Mind if I borrow a T-shirt or boxers or something?” I ask after I realize I’m staring.
“Of course.”
Soon, we’re in his sun-filled kitchen. Will makes tea and coffee. He’s in full-length plaid pajama bottoms, with the bare foot of his prosthetic exposed. We’re quiet, as I sense him turning more pensive again when we sit at the kitchen table by the window at the end of the kitchen.
“I’ll need to go to my parents’ for dinner tonight,” he says. “It’s tradition. Or I could say I’m not feeling well and skip it.”
I shake my head. “No, no. Don’t skip on account of me. It’s enviable, actually.”
He blinks, looking surprised. “Is it?”
“Yes.” I hesitate for a moment. “I don’t have parents or a brother or sister to share a meal with. So you should spend the time together when you can. If you all get along, that is.”
There’s a question in his eyes, but he’s too polite to ask. I decide to explain since there’s nothing to lose. “I lost my mom a few years ago, I think I mentioned. And my father hasn’t been in my life. Not since I was a toddler.”
“I’m sorry,” he says.
“Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault. She had an undiagnosed heart condition, it turns out. I stayed with my grandma when my mom passed, when I was fourteen. Then I moved out when I was seventeen.”
He looks surprised. “That’s a lot to happen so young.”
I shrug. “I guess? I don’t know any other way. Plus, I didn’t want to be a burden on my grandma. I still stopped by lots to help her after I moved out, between school and work and dance classes. Till she passed too.”
Will’s eyebrows lift, his attention rapt as if he’s committing every word I say to memory. As if it matters to him as much as it does to me. “I’m so sorry. Do you have other family?”
“No. Probably on my dad’s side, but I never knew them.” I don’t tell him I’m essentially an orphan, something I don’t like to think about too often. Something in my chest twists. “Friends are my family.”
“What do you do on holidays? Or… Sundays?” he asks, considering me.
I chuckle, shrugging a shoulder. “Well, it depends. Sometimes I would hang out with my friend Stephen back home. I go on lots of dates. And sometimes, like at Christmas, I go traveling if I don’t want to be with them.
Not too far, because I’m not rich, but I can get to Seattle or Vancouver Island or up to the Sunshine Coast. I’ve always wanted to go further, like Europe.
” I give him a half smile. “So, here I am. Which really is some kind of dream for a guy with very limited means.”
Will’s quiet as he digests all this. “You’re welcome to come to dinner, if you want.”
I smile and shake my head. “I don’t want to intrude. Especially since we… don’t really know where things sit between us, exactly.”
He reddens. “Okay. Well. I wouldn’t say no to doing this again. I had fun with you, Dylan.”
I give him an affectionate grin, warming me from the inside out. Because last night was special, no matter where we go from here. “I feel I should tell you something.”
“You regret last night? Or you’re secretly married?”
“Ha. No to both. It’s… well, I don’t believe in boyfriends.”
“Is that like not believing in Santa?” Will peers curiously at me, smiling.
“Now you’ve ruined Christmas for me.”
“Dylan!”
I laugh, holding my hands up for a moment. “Okay, okay. But seriously, I need to explain. I’m… not looking for a boyfriend.”
“The old it’s not you, it’s me?”
I shake my head. “No, but yes.”
“I mean, I know it would be bold of me to presume something on the basis of a one-night stand,” Will admits. “I presume nothing, for the record.”
“I feel I should explain. Sometimes, though, I’m not sure I quite understand myself either. As much as I love people, and having fun, and being around them, there’s a part of me that’s private. Maybe because I’ve lost my family. That it’s hard to get close to anyone else. I don’t know.”
“Maybe…” he says quietly over his tea, “you don’t want to risk being hurt again. And I understand.”
Shifting uncomfortably in my chair, I nod. “Yeah. And… and I’m only here for the summer, right? Like I’m not looking for anything serious. In fact, I’m on an ambitious dating schedule. And then I’m gone to Canada again, most likely.”
Will’s quiet. “Unless you get the permanent job at the museum at the end.”
“I think that’s going to you.” I give him a half smile. “They love you.”
“I don’t think so.” Will shakes his head with certainty.
“Lily does.”
“Everyone else calls me Mr. McLaren,” he reminds me. His mouth twists.
I redden. “I’m really sorry about that. It was a silly thing for me to start.”
Will shrugs, looking heavy. “People can say what they want, I guess.” But the way he says it, I can tell the nickname stings, and I totally regret doing that to him.
“What happened to the McLaren?” I ask at last, again, glancing up from my coffee. This time, it feels different asking. He’s staring into his tea like it holds the secrets of the world, his fingers wrapped around his mug. “If you don’t mind my asking.”
“I sold it.”
“You sold it?”
He nods, shoulders sagging a little. “It’s complicated.”
I reach out to touch his arm. “I’m happy to listen if you want to tell me about it. Only if you want, of course.”
Will’s gaze flickers up, something raw in his expression. “I didn’t want all the attention. And I didn’t want to be known as Mr. McLaren either.”
“Fuck. Will. I’m such an ass. I’m so sorry—”
“It’s not only the museum. Or what you said,” he says in a rush. “I never wanted the car to begin with. It’s very nice, but…”
“You—what?” I blink, uncertain. It’s now or never. “I mean, I have many questions. Like how you got a McLaren in the first place.”
He winces, then nods slowly, almost as if to himself. “My father wanted me to have it.”
“Your father?”
“It was his idea. But my car. He bought it for me.”
I let out a low whistle. “So, the rumors are true: you really are that posh, then.”
He makes a sound of protest, opening his mouth and shutting it again. “Well.”
“Don’t worry, it’s only me putting my foot in my mouth again. Honestly. You don’t need to tell me anything you don’t want. But if you do, I promise I won’t say a word to anyone.”
“I… I feel I should be honest too.”
“You’re not obligated to because I told you about my mom. I wanted to tell you.”
“I know.” He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair.
He looks anywhere but at me. “It’s not easy to talk about.
Everything’s tangled together. The car, my father, the accident.
” He pauses for a long time and then speaks again, right when I’m about to tell him not to worry about it.
“My father bought me the McLaren to tempt me to drive again. Even though I wasn’t driving when the accident happened.
He was. Except he was mostly okay, and I lost my leg, along with my future plans.
I mean, I’m lucky I didn’t lose my life at seventeen. I nearly did.”
“Fuck. Will…”
He stares at the wall behind me, shivering.
“It was a tough recovery. I struggled. I guess in some ways, I still do. My dad figured what every young man wants is a McLaren, I guess. Some flash sports car, at least. But it really isn’t me.
I get he needs to do something with his guilt.
And my parents have had a high burden on them since because of me and everything I needed after.
But… I wasn’t the one who hit a pole. It’s lucky we didn’t hit anyone else.
It could have been worse. A lot worse. But obviously, my life changed. ”
I chew my lip, my heart aching for him. “I can’t even begin to imagine…”
“Everything stopped. I… told you I was an athlete. Once. In football, chosen as a promising pick for a leading club in England, destined for big things, they said. Playing football was my passion then. Except, obviously, I couldn’t do that.
I was lucky to walk. Every summer, when the anniversary comes around, it’s rough.
And it’s this week, so I can’t help but think about it. ”
“Will—”
He cuts me off. “No. So while my friends did a gap year traveling or started uni, I learned to walk again. Went to rehab. Finished my school by distance. And then got into Cambridge for economics. I wanted to stay closer to home than LSE, even though I could have gone there too. Even though London isn’t far. ”
“That’s a very different path than sports, I’ve got to say.”
He flicks an eyebrow up. “Is that so strange?”
“It’s not strange,” I assure him. “Just not the usual combo.”
Will shrugs. “It made my parents happy to see me focus on something again. Except I refused to drive, and they were always picking me up, or I was taking taxis. My dad kept trying to get me to drive. When I was twenty, he bought me the McLaren. Which mostly sat parked at home, even with the modifications so I could drive it, like the hand clutch. I was too embarrassed to take it to uni. I drove it more lately, getting in to work. Because public transport isn’t easy for me. ”
“Holy shit, I’m such an asshole for making you take the tube that time—”
He waves me off. “You didn’t know. And I didn’t want to explain then. It was fine, better than I made it out to be in my head.”
Will twists his mug in his hands, searching my eyes.
There’s something far away in his. “Since I’ve told you this much, I may as well tell you the rest. I felt totally lost at the end of uni.
Gray offered for me to come work with him, but I didn’t want to—yes, because of cronyism, because people would think I didn’t deserve the chance, when there are so many people eager to work at a gallery.
Qualified people. We had family friends at the museum, and they told me to apply for the internship.
And, well, I suspect my father talked to them, probably with a donation in hand, knowing him, though he hasn’t confessed.
And here I am.” This time, the smile doesn’t reach his eyes.
“So, you’re right that I don’t deserve to be there. ”
“Will… please. You deserve to be there. You’ve worked so hard, learning so much. Reading all those books. Being so organized. You deserve it.”
“I struggle with depression,” he says at last. “It’s a problem. Like the migraines. They all got worse after the accident.”
“It sounds like so fucking much.” I shift to sit in the chair beside him, taking his hand as he looks uncertainly at me. He squeezes my fingers in response. “And I’m so glad you told me all this.”
Will nods, looking tired then. He releases me and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. “You deserve to know the truth about me.”
“The truth about you is that you’re incredible, Will. Like, fuck.”
“I… thanks.”
I smile affectionately at him. “Believe me, my policy of no boyfriends isn’t because of you.
It’s to do with my own shit, you know? Maybe it’s immature.
I’m twenty-two. Like, what do I know about relationships?
But… I’d be happy to do yesterday again with you, if you want.
In a minute. Though I think it’s probably a good idea work doesn’t know, if we do. Like you said before.”
“Okay. Agreed.” The way he brightens then fills me with hope. He gives me a hesitant look. “Do you mean it?”
“Of course I mean it.” I take his hand again. “Want me to prove to you how much I mean it?”
Will opens his mouth, blushes, and nods. Which is about when I take him to bed again, lost in the comfort of each other’s arms, the heat we make together with our bodies. And I prove to him how much I want him. How much we want each other in this moment.