12. Lottie
Lottie
T eddy’s house is…bare.
The wallpaper is faded yellow and crumbling.
What little furniture there is looks like it was bought in the eighties, and the wood floors are scuffed in multiple places.
With a little bit of love, this place could be beautiful, but I can't imagine the grumpy, growly man that is Teddy would be willing to put in that kind of effort.
The clomp of Teddy’s boots signals his arrival. He's in a tight army green T-shirt that makes his biceps look huge and a pair of cargo pants that have more pockets than I would know what to do with.
“Here. This is the best I can do.” He holds out a stack of clothes.
I take them, fighting the urge to shove my nose in the material and sniff. “Thanks.”
“You want coffee or something?” he asks, walking through the living room into his open kitchen.
“Sure, that sounds good.” I step into the hallway where Teddy can no longer see me and change my clothes.
They smell like clean laundry with just a hint of man.
I have to roll the sweatpants up three times before they’ll stay on my hips, and the T-shirt hangs down almost past my thighs, but there’s no way I’d ever pass up a chance to wear Teddy’s clothes.
I fold my arms across my chest as I walk back into the living room.
I don't think I've ever been this uncomfortable in a situation.
I have no idea what I'm supposed to do. Teddy has made it abundantly clear that he doesn't want my company, yet he wouldn't let me leave, so now I'm the unwanted guest with zero idea of what to do about it.
Teddy bustles around the kitchen, coffee cups clinking as the water heats in the coffee maker. The silence between us is about to drive me crazy.
“Did you know it’s legal to have sex with a corpse in more than twenty states? Can you believe it’s not illegal in all of them?”
Teddy freezes and then looks over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow. “What? Why the fuck do you know that?”
I shrug. “Research from my job.”
“Ah, the podcast.”
A little spark of hope ignites.
He read my emails.
He knows what I’ve been up to over the last few years.
Then, I promptly squash that flame into ash. He might’ve read them, but he didn’t respond. He doesn’t want anything to do with me. It’s further proof my unrequited crush is pointless.
It wouldn’t be unrequited if he felt the same way about you.
No. I mentally slap myself. He’s made it abundantly clear he doesn’t share my feelings.
I look around the living room again, and something hits me. “What do you do out here by yourself?”
He walks over with two mugs of coffee in his hands. He hands one to me before sitting on a couch. “I read mostly, but I’m working on fixing the house.”
He’s been here for at least a month, and it doesn’t look like much has changed. “Huh.”
He gets a look on his face. “I’m doing this by myself, and I—” He snaps his mouth closed as if he’s about to say something he doesn’t want to tell me. “I’m just taking my time.”
I sit down in a chair across from him and take a sip of my coffee. “I’m not judging. I wouldn’t know the first thing about renovations.”
He grunts and then lapses into silence. “I’ve been listening to your podcast.”
My eyebrows wing up my forehead. “You have?”
He nods. “It’s pretty good. Do you have a producer or something, or do you do those interviews by yourself? Seems like a dangerous choice to go alone.”
I squint at him. “I am more than capable of taking care of myself, thank you.”
He rolls his eyes.
“I’m working on a new case right now,” I say to change the topic. I do have a producer who comes with me when I travel, but I’m also a grown-ass adult who’s fully trained in jiujitsu. “She was a teacher who disappeared twelve years ago without a trace.”
“It's shitty that nobody’s been able to find her after all this time,” Teddy says.
“I agree. I never go into these cases believing I’ll solve the mystery, but a part of me always hopes to be a catalyst for solving the case.
Like, what if I find a piece of information nobody else knew, and because of that, the cops finally solve the case?
I’d love to be able to help their loved ones get some closure about what happened to them.
So far, that hasn't happened, but people don't seem to mind. They still listen to the podcast every season.” I clench my teeth together to stop the verbal diarrhea coming out of my mouth. “Sorry. I’m passionate about my job, so any time I get a chance to talk about it, it all flows out of me faster than I can reel it back in.”
Teddy has a look of amusement on his face. “At least you're passionate about something.”
“Are you in Sonoma to stay?” The second the question comes out of my mouth, I regret it. His whole body tightens, his fists clench, and his eyebrows furrow.
“Sorry,” I say quietly. “You don't need to answer that question. It’s not any of my business.” I look down into my cup of coffee, realizing it's empty, and start fiddling with the handle to give myself something to do.
“I am. I don't know what I'm going to do next, though,” he says eventually. His head is bowed, and he’s looking at his lap. “I didn't leave on my own terms, and now I have no plan for the future.”
I bite the inside of my lip to keep from blurting something peppy. This isn't the time for my eternal optimism. “Am I allowed to ask why you got out?”
He gives me a bland look. “You're allowed to ask. Doesn't mean I'm going to answer.”
I grin. “Fair enough.”
His lips quirk up at the side before falling back into a straight line. I do a little happy dance on the inside. It’s stupid that I’m happy to have made him smile, but given his overall demeanor, I'm calling it a win.
The rain continues to pour down in buckets, lashing at the windows and creating a soundtrack to fill the silence.
“You got any cards?” I ask.
“Your poker face is abysmal,” he says.
I chuckle. “How do you know I'm not faking my poker face? ”
He raises an eyebrow at me. “You think after all the time I was in the Special Forces, I wouldn't be able to tell when somebody's lying to me?”
I shrug. “I guess we're going to find out.”
He narrows his eyes at me, trying to read my mind. I just grin at him.
The next round of gin rummy passes, and I tighten my muscles to stay still. Oh, I am so going to win this game. Once Teddy takes his turn, I lay down my cards. “Read ‘em and weep, baby.” I cackle.
Teddy scrunches his eyebrows, looking between his cards and mine. “How is that possible?”
I finally wiggle my body around in a happy dance. “It's called a poker face, man.”
Teddy rolls his eyes and throws his cards on the table. “Eh, whatever.”
I gather the cards and work to shuffle them together.
“Looks like this is going to get worse before it gets better,” Teddy says, looking at his phone.
I grimace. It’s almost eleven. Even if the rain lets up soon, I wouldn't want to drive home this late.
“I only have one bedroom, so you can take it. I'll sleep on the couch.”
I look at the couch in suspicion. “You're going to be even more surly in the morning if you sleep on that thing.”
Teddy looks affronted. “I’m not surly just because I don't smile every two seconds like you do.”
I just smirk at him, and he rolls his eyes.
“Fine. We can share the bed. It's a king anyway.”
“We can build a pillow wall between us if it would make you feel better,” I say with condescension.
“You're a pain in my ass.” He stands up from the couch, keeping his hand on the armrest to steady his balance. I tilt my head at the odd movement but don't say anything. With a limp in his gait, he walks toward what I assume is his bedroom. He looks over his shoulder. “You coming?”
Nerves flutter in my belly. It was easy to tease him about his sensibilities, but now this is happening. I leave the card deck on the table and follow him down the hallway. His bedroom is even more sparse than the living room.
His bed sits on a frame but doesn’t have a headboard, and the tall dresser sits opposite it. Two doors line the other side of the room; I'm assuming one goes to a closet and the other to a bathroom.
“There's a clean toothbrush in the drawer.”
“Thanks,” I say, making my way into the bathroom he just walked out of. I quickly brush my teeth and borrow Teddy’s comb to detangle my now-dry hair. I’d love to wash my face, but I’m not about to use a mysterious bar of soap in a man’s bathroom.
When I’m done, Teddy's already under the covers. I hit the lights and then make my way to the other side of the bed.
My limbs are awkward as I get in and attempt to get comfortable. I don’t typically sleep in pants, but I highly doubt Teddy would appreciate it if I took them off. He also adjusts several times before finally lying still.
“Why is this so weird?” I whisper.
Teddy grunts out a laugh. “Because we're basically strangers.”
I tilt my head in agreement, even though he can't see it. While he’s not wrong, he doesn’t feel like a stranger to me.
A question plagues me, and in the darkness, I finally find the courage to ask. “Why didn’t you email me back?”