Chapter 33
THIRTY-THREE
Love is a complex emotion that involves affection, care, and commitment to someone or something.
ME : What does it mean if you get locked in a bedroom overnight with a guy and you wake up wrapped around each other like pretzels?
ALI :
MAE : Would this man happen to be a certain roommate of yours?
ME : Asking for a FRIEND, of course. FOR A FRIEND.
ALI : Are you the friend? IS THE FRIEND YOU?
My eyes popped open at 1:47a.m. I knew this because the only light in the room came from the glow of a digital clock two feet from my face.
I still had two hours and thirteen more minutes to sleep.
I closed my eyes, hoping to return to the dream I’d been in the middle of—the one where Gil is fixing a broken pipe under the kitchen sink, if you know what I mean.
Again, not a euphemism. He was there with his toolbelt, laying on the ground, partially tucked under the sink, looking all handyman hot, and he was?—
My eyes snapped back open. I didn’t own a digital clock.
I tried to sit up, but an arm was wrapped around my waist, big and solid, warm. I swallowed a gasp as the where and why clicked into place.
I forced myself to breathe normally, though my heart felt like it was ready to burst out of my chest. Last night came back in pieces.
Oliver locking us in here. Talking to Gil.
Getting annoyed with Gil. Falling asleep.
Waking up at some point to see Gil sitting on the floor surrounded by folders from the file cabinet.
Yelling at him to turn the light off and go to sleep.
Obviously, I was missing a few pieces. I did not remember the part where Gilbert Dalton and I started cuddling. I felt like I should remember that.
“Gil,” I whispered.
His fingers flexed into the strip of exposed skin between my shorts and t-shirt. Every part of my body felt as tense as a bowstring.
I cleared my throat. The leg slung over mine shifted, tucking me closer to him. I hadn’t been this close to a man in so long. That the man was Gil made it feel strangely safe. A shiver raced through me.
“Gil,” I said a little louder.
“Go to sleep,” he mumbled.
“Gilbert Dalton!” I wiggled and squirmed until I’d turned around to face him.
“Stop moving.” With a frustrated groan, he pulled me closer until my face was pressed against his t-shirt. He smelled warm and sleepy.
This was bad, so, so bad. Our conversation earlier was a reminder; Gil and I had very different plans, plans that were in such opposition to each other, it wouldn’t end nicely.
Like every other time I let myself fall for a man.
But that didn’t change the fact that I wanted to stay right there where I was surrounded by warm, strong arms and pretend it meant something it didn’t.
It took epic amounts of superhuman self-restraint not to do that. I deserved a medal or something.
“You asked for it.” I pinched him like my mother did to me when I couldn’t sit still in church on Sunday mornings.
He shot up, his head knocking into mine in the process. “What the…”
“Ouch!” Glaring, I sat up slowly and rubbed my head. “That hurt.”
“Was I…? Were we…?” He swallowed audibly. “Did we…?”
I leaned over and snapped on a lamp. “Would never have thought you’d be a cuddler.”
Gil’s head swiveled around the room, looking everywhere and anywhere that wasn’t me. He shoved a hand through his hair. “Look. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do whatever we were doing…together…just now…and, um, well…”
Huffing a laugh, I laid back down. “Seriously. Your face right now. We were sleeping; it doesn’t count.”
“Right. Yeah.” He got up and went to the bathroom, staying there at least ten minutes, and I swore I could hear him talking to himself.
When he finally came out, he’d brushed his hair (somehow) and looked much more composed.
He paused by my side of the bed. “I apologize. That should not have happened.”
I reached out and touched the back of his hand. He flinched but didn’t pull away. “It’s okay. I didn’t mean to invade your personal space.” I was half joking. We’d been in the middle of the bed. That sure seemed like we’d both invaded each other’s personal space. Together. Joint effort.
“Personal bubble,” he muttered as he climbed back into bed, staying as far on his side as humanly possible.
“Oh, right. Personal bubble. Although let the record show when we bumped into each other in the hallway last week, I’m pretty sure you smelled my hair.”
He flipped on his side, giving me his back. “I’m going back to sleep.”
“I bet you are.” I clicked off the lamp and the room was shrouded in darkness again. In silence, too.
I sat up and pounded my pillow and threw myself down again, wriggled around until I found a comfortable sleeping position. Tried to forget how nice it had felt to be held like that. Tried not to think about how much I wished it would happen again.
“Your hair smelled like peaches,” Gil said quietly.
“It’s my shampoo. Peaches and Cream. I can change it if it bothers you.”
“No,” he said quickly. “Don’t change it.”
“Okay,” I said, my voice much breathier than I intended. I wanted to ask him, to see if he could feel this thing growing between us. Somehow this feeling had started, one I refused to name. But each day, it seemed to grow a little stronger. It was terrifying.
“We’ll pretend that didn’t happen, okay?” I said. “It never happened.”
“Right. Never happened.”
“Because nothing can happen,” I said quickly.
“I mean, it wouldn’t be right for a lot of reasons.
Oliver doesn’t need to get the wrong idea and…
and you and me, we want different things, you know, and only one of us is going to get what we want.
You’re going back to your life in three months and I’m getting on with mine.
So, nothing happened. Or will happen. Not that anything was going to happen.
” My face was on fire, and I’d never been happier for darkness.
“I get it,” he said quietly. “We should sleep.”
“Yes. Sleep is good.” I closed my eyes and willed myself to sleep. My brain was not listening. I tossed and turned. Went to the bathroom. Stubbed my toe in the process. Laid back down. And still, my brain kept braining. Finally, I gave up. “I can’t sleep.”
He didn’t answer. In fact, after several minutes of silence, I was sure he was so sound asleep he didn’t hear me, so I almost fell out of the bed when he did speak such was my surprise.
“I go to Austin every weekend to see my brother. He’s all alone with Dad gone, and I need to check on him.” His voice was low, practically a whisper, all gravelly and serious.
“What’s his name?”
“Mikey.” He paused and I heard him swallow. I held my breath, part of me hoping he’d continue while another part wished he hadn’t told me, that he wouldn’t give me another reason to like him just a little bit more.
“Mikey.” I should let it go but I turned toward him. “How old is he?”
“Thirty-five.”
I couldn’t stop my gasp. “But I’ve heard you on the phone with him. I thought he was Oliver’s age.”
“He suffered a traumatic brain injury in a car accident, the same accident my mom…” His voice trailed off.
“Oh, Gil,” I breathed and reached out a hand. It brushed against his shoulder, and I kept it there. “I’m so sorry.”
He placed his hand over mine and wrapped his fingers around it, squeezed gently.
“It’s been my brother and my dad and me for a long time.
Mikey has always lived at home. When my stepdad passed, he wanted me to put Mikey in a group home, said he didn’t want me to feel obligated. ‘He’ll be just fine,’ he told me.”
“Has it been?” Had I shuffled closer to him somehow? Stupid girl.
He huffed. “Not really. He’s having a hard time.
I go and check him out on the weekends and spend the time with him at home where he’s comfortable.
He likes home. It’s familiar. There’s been so many changes.
His dad dies, his brother moves him into this group home and then leaves.
He doesn’t understand a lot of it, so I try to keep it as simple and easy as possible. ”
I turned the hand he was gripping until we were palm to palm. His fingers tangled with mine. “That’s a lot for you, too.”
“I want to bring him back to the house where he’s happiest. But I can’t be there all day once I go back to work, and paying for a full-time caregiver is?—”
“—expensive.”
“Dad didn’t have a lot of money. It’s expensive to have a child with special needs. He had a life insurance policy, which covered his funeral and has paid the bills since he passed. All I have left is the house…and Mikey. I have to do right by him.”
I sucked in a breath as an ache took up residence in my chest. It wasn’t all he had left.
Maybe…maybe…he had more people than he realized.
Maybe I could be one of those people? But was that me being impulsive and letting my feelings take over?
What would he say if I said this out loud? I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. Could I?
“I expected more talking. Have I broken you?”
“Maybe?”
He laughed softly. “For what it’s worth, you’re the first person in a long time I’ve wanted to share things with.”
My heart flopped over in surrender. How was I supposed to resist him? “That’s worth a lot, actually.”
“Good. Now go to sleep.”
And even though I knew better, I went to sleep still holding his hand.