Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
Reed
I wondered why I’d never heard of Cannon’s hometown, even though I only live twenty minutes away.
Now I get it. “Town” is a very generous term for about eight blocks of sun-bleached buildings sprinkled in between patches of trees and overgrown grass.
I’m pretty sure I’ve driven straight through here before without realizing it existed.
To my surprise, Cannon pulls my car up in front of a dilapidated garage with no house in sight. He grimaces at the look on my face. “I rent the second floor. It’s better on the inside, I promise.”
“No, I mean, it’s just lovely,” I demur, trying not to crack up. “I love how you decorated the cracks in the driveway with a colorful seasonal selection of weeds. Joanna Gaines could never.”
Cannon dissolves into a snorting giggle and wrinkles his nose ruefully and god, that right there is what I want to remember forever. I wish I could take a photo, but it’s already gone.
Instead of getting out right away, he gives me a searching look.
He keeps doing that today, like he’s checking to see if he chased away the sadness.
Because I don’t want him to find the answer, I gather my courage and lean across the center console to kiss him.
My angle is all wrong, almost banging our foreheads, but he catches my jaw in his sure fingers and guides me without taking over control.
I’m not feeling bold enough to chase that tongue piercing yet, so I just play with his lower lip.
When he groans quietly, it makes me feel like the most skillful lover in the universe for one whole second.
I know I look shaken and needy when I sit back and pant for breath. “Salad first?” I ask with zero conviction.
“Sure.” His lazy grin tells me he’s humoring me, that he’d take my ass right here in the car and again upstairs if I wanted him to.
I really do, but I’m also unreasonably excited to make food for someone besides myself after all this time.
It’s not like I have no friends at all—I meet with some of the other teachers every month for board games, and grab lunch sometimes with a woman I’ve known since college.
But my mother has passed on, I’m estranged from my dad and brother, and I can’t seem to figure out how to make real friends post-transition.
I didn’t think I cared, until I realized just how much time I spend talking out loud to my empty house, telling myself things I already know.
When I open my car door, something huge and yellow comes rocketing out of the grass in a blur. My yelp of alarm turns into a very un-manly squeal of excitement at the sight of the biggest, fluffiest golden retriever I’ve ever encountered.
“This is Gary,” Cannon chants in a resigned sing-song, ruffling the dog’s ears as it dances around the car with its tail going a million miles an hour.
The teasing light in his eyes makes me realize that I gave the dog a much, much more enthusiastic greeting than he got this morning.
“He belongs to the guy who owns the garage, and he never leaves me alone.”
“I think handsome doggies are a wonderful amenity for an apartment, aren’t you, Gary?” I coo like a dork. I’d love to own a dog, but I spend so much time at work I can’t justify it.
Cannon grabs the bags, leaving me and Gary to follow him up the steps. “Watch your feet. This whole thing is kind of falling apart.”
I’ve been preparing my face for a polite reaction to whatever we find in this sketchy mid-twenties bachelor pad, but when I skirt the table and chairs on the landing and stick my head in the door, my jaw drops. “Jesus, Cannon. This is stunning.”
He leaves the door propped open so Gary can come and go, then drops the bags on the kitchen counter.
“I mean, it’s okay,” he mumbles, all bashful for the first time.
The nurturing teacher part of me wants to give him a giant hug and tell him he’s doing an amazing job and has nothing to be ashamed of.
“Did you do all this?” I just meant the decorating of this breezy, modern, slightly bohemian space, but he nods earnestly.
“I started with the paint, then I found some tile and flooring that went well together, redid the cabinets, took about a year to finish all the furniture. Now I knock together a piece for the walls every once in a while when I notice a gap.”
“You made these too?” Stretching my hand out, I brush the edge of a huge art piece hung over the couch.
A hundred small fragments of driftwood make the shape of the sun bursting up over the horizon, held together with delicate twists of metal that make it look like the whole thing is defying physics. “You’re so fucking talented.”
“Not like it matters.” When I turn around, he’s just staring at it with the corners of his mouth tight and a bewildered kind of misery in his eyes. Catching himself, he rubs a hand roughly across his face. “Shit, ignore me.”
“Wait.” Dodging around Gary’s squirmy body, I take away the cantaloupe he pulled out of our shopping bags. Cannon tries to grab it back, but I take advantage of my longer arms to hold it out of his reach. “Tell me what that was about.”
He huffs and tries to jump for it, but only half-heartedly. “I can’t. We only have a few hours to eat and fuck.”
“Talking is part of being in a relationship too, right? Even I know that. So let’s talk for a second.” I ignore the bitter knowledge in the back of my mind that I’m a hypocrite for demanding honesty from him. But it’s not the same.
When he stops fighting, I put the melon down and lead him to the patio table just outside the open door.
He slumps down in the seat opposite me, wraps both his hands around mine, and flops over to rest his cheek against my arm.
My back protests at the way I have to stretch awkwardly across the table, but I wouldn’t move him for the world.
I open my mouth to try and coax the words out of him, but I don’t have to.
“I lost my job at the fabrication shop a couple of days ago.” His voice sounds exhausted and bitter in a way I didn’t know was possible.
“I started an apprenticeship there when I was sixteen and worked my way up. They told me a hundred times how it would be—I’d get promoted to manager, then when the boss retired he’d pass the business to me.
I was already doing all the manager’s work with no extra pay.
Then they called me in and told me they were giving the job to the boss’s cousin, just because they’re related.
I…uh…” He lifts his head enough to sniffle and rub his nose roughly.
“I kind of lost it on them, and now I have nothing.”
“Baby, I’m so sorry.” I didn’t think I would feel ready to say that word today, but it comes out naturally. “That’s disgusting. Regardless of anything else, you didn’t deserve to be punished for standing up for yourself.”
He offers a sad smile. “Maybe I’m not even being honest about it.
Maybe I’m in the wrong. You’re just obligated to take my side because you’re my boyfriend.
” A second later he realizes what he said and flinches, shooting me a guilty look that stings even worse than the knowledge that no one will ever call me that for real.
“I’m pretty good at reading people,” I say firmly, trying to gloss over the moment. “I don’t think you’re lying. Forgive me if this is out of line, but surely you have enough experience to start your own shop? Maybe you don’t need theirs.”
He blinks, confusion flickering across his face like he’s never even considered that option. “I’m not good enough.” It sounds less like an answer and more like a reflex, something he’s had to believe every day of his life.
I slip my hand out of his and rub his thick forearm gently, feeling the muscles twitch. “I’m not an expert, but the principal at my school just paid almost five figures for an art piece like the one in there that wasn’t even half as well-made. Just promise me you’ll think about it.”
The light through the trees dapples across his tan skin as he examines my face for a long time. “Okay,” he says finally, like he really means it. “I promise.”
I was excited for the rest of our plans this afternoon, but now I want to stay absolutely still for as long as it takes to stop time from moving forward.
I thought I had control of today, a few hours of fun and sex with a hot stranger.
Instead I’m drowning in something I don’t understand, every stage of a relationship at once from infatuation to exploration to closeness to understanding all crammed into the same breath.
And even if I changed my mind, if I wanted to hold on, I can’t. It’s not up to me.
“Hey,” I say quickly, before I lose my grip on everything. “Could we…do you mind if we take a photo together?” He doesn’t need to know that I’m going to stare at it a hundred times a day until I can’t anymore.
His smile comes softly. “Of course. C’mere.”
I circle the table to crouch beside him, but he grabs my waist and tugs me onto his lap, chuckling at the startled noise I make.
My legs are longer, but he’s so powerful and muscled that it feels easy for him to hold me, his knees bracketing mine.
He hooks his arms around my waist to keep me still and kisses the back of my neck.
Deeply distracted by the press of his body heat, I fumble open my camera app and use it to spend a minute trying to get every curl in the perfect position.
“Don’t you dare,” I yelp when he messes them all up again with an impatient swipe.
The first photo is an accident, of us wrestling with his face full of mischief and mine all scrunched up.
He finally lets me tidy myself, then tucks his head against my neck and grins sweetly.
I thought I might be tempted to crop myself out of these photos, but we look amazing together, like summer and autumn.
“Thank you,” I murmur, saving both pictures and texting them to his number.