Chapter 17 #2
“Definitely,” I say. “I think it’s helped me to be exposed to different methods, but it can be exhausting learning one system only to change hospitals as soon as you finally get the hang of it. It’s worth it overall, but I’m still looking forward to settling down in one place.”
“Will that happen anytime soon?” Kim asks.
“After grad school,” Theo says before I can respond. “She wants to be a nurse practitioner.” There’s a hint of pride in his voice that makes my heart swell the tiniest bit.
“I’m traveling for another year and a half to pay down my student loans,” I say, “then I’ll do grad school after that. I’ve still got a ways to go.”
“You should see her spreadsheet,” Mom says. “She’s got it all mapped out. Loans paid off, grad school tuition saved. She’s working amazingly hard.”
“Aww. Thanks, Mom.”
We spend the next forty-five minutes sharing the last of the wine and chatting with our moms. The conversation meanders, taking us from life in Atlanta to pickleball in Texas and a new drug Mom is on that’s really helping her mobility.
We talk about family and friends and hockey and Theo’s recovery and Mia and nursing and where I’ve thought about going to grad school.
Just after eleven, I’m too tired to keep my eyes open any longer, so I slide my glass forward and push back my chair. “Okay. I have to go to bed.”
“We all should,” Mom says as she stands.
“Definitely,” Kim says, but then she pauses and looks over at Theo, who has his phone in his hand, his thumbs flying over the screen. “Is everything okay?” she asks him.
He looks up. “Yeah. Good. Just talking hockey with Carter.” He stands and pockets his phone, and the four of us walk inside. “There’s a new guy on the team who just got to Atlanta today,” Theo says. “Carter and a couple of the guys went over to see him tonight.”
“Carter told me about him,” Kim says. “Didn’t you used to play with his brother? On the Appies?”
“Yeah, that’s him,” Theo says.
“How did the visit go?” Kim asks as she puts the wine bottle into the recycling bin.
“Hard to say,” Theo says. “I don’t think he wanted to be traded, so he may have a rough time at first.”
“You’d better take care of him, then,” Kim says. “Especially if they make you a captain. Carter told me that might happen.”
Theo lowers our wine glasses into the sink, then turns to face his mother. “He told you what?”
She lifts her hand in a dismissive wave. “That you might be made captain. I personally think it’s a great idea.”
Theo pushes his hands into his pockets, his back stiff. “Does Carter always talk to you this much?” he asks.
Kim’s expression shifts. If I’m sensing Theo’s discomfort—and I definitely am—she probably is too.
“Not always,” she says, her tone apologetic.
“But he’s been worried about you lately.
With your hand injury, and his marriage, and…
” Her eyes dart over to me for a moment, but she doesn’t finish that last thought. “Don’t hold it against him, Theo.”
Theo is quiet for a long moment before he breathes out a sigh and moves to his mom, wrapping an arm around her shoulders in an easy hug.
“He doesn’t need to worry,” he says. “And you don’t either.
But you should both know I have no interest in being a captain.
” He makes quick eye contact with me, then he says goodnight to all three of us and heads upstairs.
“Well, I think I hit on a sore spot,” Kim says as soon as he’s gone.
“I’m going to head up too,” I say, not even caring if it looks like I’m following Theo. I am following him. I’m not sure why, but I want to make sure he’s okay.
As soon as I reach his bedroom door, I lift my hand to knock, but then I hesitate.
Will he even want to talk to me? We’ve been together all day. What if he just wants to be alone?
I drop my hand and cross the hall to my own room, pacing in front of the bed.
He’ll probably go to the bathroom eventually. If I leave my door open, maybe I’ll see him then? Or I could just text him. But I don’t want to turn this into something if it’s nothing. Or make him talk if he doesn’t feel like talking.
I finally turn and move to my suitcase. I’m definitely overthinking, so I’ll just unpack. Get ready for bed and wait to see if he comes out of his room. If he does, I’ll ask him if he’s okay. If he doesn’t, I’ll text him and ask if he’s okay.
There. I have a plan.
I make quick work of hoisting my suitcase onto the bed and moving everything into the empty dresser drawers. Mia is the kind of traveler who will live out of her luggage for weeks. Once, we picked up a super short six-week contract, and she never unpacked.
I have no idea how she does it. If I’m sleeping somewhere for more than two nights, I take every single thing out of my suitcase. It’s so much better than the clutter that comes from having to dig through it all the time.
Once I’m finished, I pull out my pajamas so I can change for bed.
And that’s when I realize I have a problem. I only brought one thing to sleep in, and it’s Theo’s t-shirt. I wouldn’t have packed it had I known he would be on my vacation, but I literally have nothing else comfortable enough for sleeping.
I reason with myself as I close my door and change. It doesn’t have to matter, really. It’s a comfortable shirt. And what does it matter if Theo knows I sleep in it?
It doesn’t have to mean anything.
It doesn’t mean anything.
Probably.
I open my door and glance across the hall. Theo’s door is still closed, so I grab my toiletry bag and head to the bathroom. “It’s just a t-shirt,” I say to myself as I move down the hall. “It doesn’t even matter that it used to be his.”
“Used to be whose?”
I spin to see Theo standing in his bedroom doorway, hands hooked over the door jamb above his head. He’s in dark gray sweatpants and a blue t-shirt the same color as his eyes, and my throat immediately goes dry. It should be against the rules for him to look so good.
His eyes drop to my shirt, and he grins. “Ah. Used to be mine.” The slightly possessive way he says mine makes my skin prickle with awareness.
“It’s the only thing I packed,” I blurt. “And only because it’s so comfortable. It’s a … fabric thing.”
“Right.” He drops his hands and pads across the hallway in his bare feet, stopping right in front of me. “Makes perfect sense.”
I swallow against the knot in my throat, forcing my eyes to stay on his face. “You shouldn’t eavesdrop,” I say. “It’s rude.”
His lips lift in a tiny half smile. “Maybe you shouldn’t talk to yourself in ancient houses where sound carries.”
We are standing so close. Close enough that we ought to be touching. We could be touching. I would only need to lean forward the slightest bit or shift my hand just so. But neither of us moves. It’s like we’re hovering in this in-between space, waiting, watching, wondering what might happen next.
My eyes snag on the necklace looped around Theo’s neck. It’s the same one I saw when he came to the hospital to see Garrison. A penny, hole-punched and threaded on a bronze chain. I lift my hand and touch it with my pointer finger. “A penny?”
He reaches up and touches it, rubbing the side of it with his thumb. I get the impression he does that a lot. “Yeah, it’s a thing with my brother. He has one too.”
There has to be a story there, but I’m guessing it’s personal because Theo isn’t making any move to explain.
“Are things okay with your brother?” I ask.
His eyebrows lift. “Should they not be?”
“No, I just … after the conversation with your mom…” I shrug. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Ah.” He lifts a hand and runs it through his hair. “It’s fine. Just family worrying for no reason.”
“I think that’s part of the deal,” I say. “When people love you, they worry whether you want them to or not.”
“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” Theo says.
We stand there for another long beat of silence before I lift my toiletry bag to my chest. “I should—” I start to say. But Theo starts talking at the same time.
“Listen—”
We smile at each other. “You go ahead,” I say.
He clears his throat. “I was just going to say I had a good time with you today.”
My stomach flutters at his words, even as my mind jumps back to the conversation I had with my mom, to her claim that Theo is interested in more than just mending the past.
“Yeah,” I say, my throat suddenly dry. “Me too.”
For the briefest moment, Theo’s hand grazes along the edge of my pinky. It’s so subtle, it could be an accident, but then he doesn’t stop, his touch featherlight as he traces a line up to my knuckle.
“Goodnight, Becca,” he says, his voice low. He gives my hand a quick squeeze, then steps backward, leaving me in the center of the hallway, breath caught in my throat.
“Good night,” I practically whisper.
“For the record?” he says from his bedroom doorway. He gives me a teasing smirk. “I really like you in my shirt.”