Chapter 6
Dru
Evie’s been with me for a week. We had to run up to her apartment on the outskirts of Davis at one point so she could grab a few changes of clothes—not that we’ve been clothed all that often.
We visit the kennels every day, where we’ve often run into Gretchen.
The two of them exchanged a few silent looks, and Gretchen has shot me a grin or two, and I imagine they’ll have a detailed conversation about what’s happening between us eventually.
I wish I had an exact answer for that. All I know is that being with Evie has been incredible, and I’m having feelings I didn’t expect to have so soon, regardless of our history.
Evie has spent some time making her way through my bookshelf while I take care of administrative work.
But luckily, I have a great team who handle most of the adoptions, so I’m able to be available to Evie most of the time.
Even more this week because we’ve had some pretty heavy rain, making it harder for people to get here.
And there’s something about the cozy moodiness of the heavy rain that makes being bundled up with her in my loft even more intimate, more powerful, somehow.
The sex is off the charts amazing, and our connection is maybe even better.
Deeper. And I’m sort of dying to tell her exactly how I feel, but I don’t want to scare her off.
But every damn thing she does is fucking precious to me.
Like right now, with her sitting on the sofa in my gray robe, my old, scarred copy of Even Cowgirls Get the Blues in her hands.
Her hair is up in a clip, but her bangs hang over her smooth cheek, and she looks so soft and warm to me, focused on her reading while the rain falls outside the windows, and the golden light from the lamp on the table behind her seems to surround her. It makes my chest go tight…
Fuck.
I love her.
It’s fast, except it’s not. We spent so much of that year together, getting to know each other.
We already have all of that background stuff, like relationship history, music we love, our coming out stories.
I know that she broke her left wrist riding her bike when she was eight years old.
That she’s allergic to bees. That she has a not-so-secret love for reality dating shows.
That she never knew her father. That her mom died when she was twelve, and she got shuffled off to foster care.
And that’s why she hates the holidays and won’t ever let anyone celebrate her birthday, even though she hasn’t ever said so; not that directly.
She has to go back home tomorrow to get ready for work.
I know Davis is only an hour, maybe an hour and a half from me, but it feels too far, especially with Christmas being only three days away.
I know she’s decided to take off to avoid the holiday; she’s hinted at it, but knowing how she feels about Christmas, I would have gotten it regardless.
But I just want to keep her close by me, no matter how unrealistic that may be.
I have no holiday plans; I was going to just stay home so I could give most of my staff the day off.
Her phone pings and she glances at it, then sets the book down and scrolls, her brows drawn together.
“What’s up, Evie? Everything okay?”
“Um…it’s from Gretchen. She just saw on the news that upper highway 80 is flooded pretty badly. I don’t know if I’ll be able to get back home for the next couple of days.”
I get up and come over to her, pulling my own phone out of my pocket and searching for more news.
“Yeah, it looks bad. I don’t think any of the alternate routes will be any better, since those roads are all so narrow, and it’s so heavily wooded up there. They’re reporting mudslides on the 505 and the 113.”
She blows out a breath. “I guess I’d better email my boss. I hope she’s not too pissed.”
I slide my hand over her shoulder. “Baby, it’s not your fault. And if the roads are this bad, I doubt you’re the only staff member who can’t get there. The students won’t be coming back until after Christmas, anyway, right?”
“Yeah. It’s just that I said I’d be back tomorrow to take care of some stuff, and now I feel like a bad employee. Even if my boss is kind of an asshole. Actually, he’s a major asshole, which is most of why I don’t love my job.”
I smooth my hand over hers. “Would it be the worst thing on the planet if you were here with me for Christmas?”
She blinks at her phone, looks up and blinks hard at me. She says in a small whisper, “Yes. Maybe.”
Her eyes are pooled with tears, and when I put my arm around her she goes a little stiff.
“Hey,” I say gently. “I get it. I do. But we don’t have to do anything fancy; it can be just you and me. I already had the party, and I didn’t make any other plans.”
“What about your dad? You haven’t really mentioned him.”
“He’s on a cruise with his new girlfriend.”
“Ah, good for him,” she says, averting her gaze. “I’m sorry. I know I’m being a big baby.”
I pull her chin up with my fingers. “Hey. Evie. It’s really okay. You can be here with me, and feel your feelings. You don’t ever have to hide from me. Okay?”
A fat tear slips down her cheek, and I brush at it with my thumb.
“Somehow I haven’t managed to be very reassuring, have I?”
“It’s not that. It’s just…what if we spend the holidays together and you make it wonderful for me—and I know you will, but…I can’t get too attached to that. Because if it ever goes away, if you go away, then it’ll be worse than ever, because I’ll have something to miss again.”
The last few words come out on a choking sob, and I gather her in my arms and just let her cry it out. It goes on for a long while, but I don’t mind at all. In fact, the protector in me is so damn glad I’m the one to be here with her through this.
Finally, the tears ebb, and she uses the tie on the robe to wipe her eyes.
“I…I need a tissue,” she says, hiccupping.
“Be right back.”
I go into the bathroom, grab the whole box and bring it back to her, and she takes three or four tissues and wipes her face. When she seems to have calmed down, I take her hand again.
“Baby, I want to tell you not to be afraid, but I know I can’t do that.
I can’t erase your past, your pain. I wish to God I could.
But can you try to trust in what we have, what’s always been there, even before we finally connected?
Can you let me help you through the holidays?
It’s okay if you need to say no. But please, just…
consider it? We know each other. Okay, maybe an older version of each other, for the most part, but we’re still basically the same two people. And I care for you, so damn much…”
I have to trail off before I tell her how I really feel. This is not the moment.
She nods, her head down, then she looks up at me, and her red eyes and damp cheeks break my heart a little. I stroke her silky cheek—her skin is hot from crying so hard—and she leans into my hand a little. A good sign.
“Okay,” she says, so softly it’s almost a whisper. “I can try.”
“Okay,” I tell her. “Baby steps.”
She smiles up at me, and I can see the trust in her eyes. It may be a bit fragile, still, when it comes to Christmas, but she trusts me, and that’s the important part. I try to focus on that, and brush off how her avoidance of the holidays saddens me because I understand why.
I would do anything to make her feel better. At least I know of a temporary cure.
“Wanna go cuddle some puppies?”
“Yes. Always,” she says, the smile getting wider.
“Good. Go put some pants on and we’ll head out to the kennels.”
An hour later we’re back in my loft, me having checked on all the dogs and gotten a medical update from my vet tech on a Bassett Hound who recently had eye surgery.
Evie spent the entire time with the young pittie siblings.
I get it; those two have sort of stolen my heart, too, and it’s taken everything I have not to adopt them myself.
But they’re still practically puppies; I’m sure someone will give them their forever home, and since they’re so bonded, hopefully they’ll be adopted together.
“Want some tea?” I offer as she settles onto a stool at the counter. “Or coffee?”
“Oh, tea, please.”
I pull out the Early Grey—her favorite—and start the kettle, then lean over the counter, facing her.
“You seem to be getting attached to those two,” I comment.
“Sulu and Seven? Yeah. I wish they could come home with me, but they’ll be a lot of dog for my little one bedroom apartment, and I’m gone at work all day.”
“Sulu and Seven? What?”
Her cheeks go a pretty shade of pink, making her freckles stand out. “Um…you know, from Star Trek? I mean, two different generations of Star Trek, but…” She stops, looking flustered.
I grin at her. “You named them.”
“I… I guess I did. I mean, they’re siblings, so themed names felt right.”
“You always were a huge Star Trek geek. I can’t blame you; it’s so much better than Star Wars.”
“Right?” A smile spreads across her lovely face, and I lean over to kiss her.
“You are fucking adorable.”
“So are you, Dru. Seriously. I love watching you work with the dogs. You’re so sweet to them. You’re so sweet to me.”
Why do I feel my cheeks going warm? I like to think I’m made of tougher stuff than that, butch that I am. Well, soft butch. Which this just goes to prove, I guess.
“Are you blushing?” she asks incredulously.
I hold one finger up just as the kettle begins to whistle. “Do not tell anyone about this.”
“Your secret is safe with me,” she says with a giggle, and I’m so pleased to see she’s feeling better. “Except I think pretty much everyone else already knows,” she whispers.
I roll my eyes, then turn back to preparing our tea. Once it’s steeped I add milk and honey to hers and hand her the big, steaming mug, then sit down next to her with mine.
“So, Sulu and Seven is it?”
“Hmm? Yes. I mean, you don’t have to call them that; it’s just who they are in my head.”
“But you’ve fallen in love with them.”