Chapter 8 Nora
NORA
I follow Tommy to his truck, my cheeks still strangely heated from the weird exchange in the house. Caught between Freddie and Rush, I couldn’t help but feel antsy.
And don’t even get me started on waking up with Rush.
Or rather, in his arms.
My memory is a bit all over the place, and I wasn’t entirely lying to Freddie when I said my stomach was upset.
It’s in knots and has been ever since I woke up next to Rush.
For the briefest minute as I curled next to him on the couch, felt his warmth…
I forgot where I was. Forgot the truth of the matter.
For the briefest moment, I felt good. Warm. Content.
Loved.
Which is crazy, considering it wasn’t Brett I was cuddling with, and I never felt that kind of warmth with Brett. Even when he was home, he rarely stayed in bed in the morning, always up at the crack of dawn to work out or run.
And then I opened my eyes and everything changed.
Even now as I get into Tommy’s truck, as I try to recall my memories from last night, they’re blurry.
I remember dancing with Rush, remember the way he looked at me on the dance floor, and I certainly remember throwing up on the side of the road. I shiver at that memory…
But it’s the after that’s hazy. I only know I showered because of the clean clothes, but I didn’t wake up in the guest bedroom as I should have. I woke up with Rush. On the couch.
How did I get there? What exactly happened?
Was it an innocent mistake? Or was I so drunk I decided falling asleep with my ex’s brother was a good idea?
Because it’s not. A good idea. Not by a long shot.
Tommy opens my door, pulling me from my thoughts, and I nearly jump. I don’t miss the way he glances at me for a moment, his eyes roving over me and hovering just above my mouth.
“Thank you,” I say, my voice strangely weak as he nods.
“Sure,” he says, swallowing hard. Almost like he’s nervous. But what does the baby Sterling brother have to be nervous about?
Probably running into you, for one, since you spent the night in his damn house.
I get in the car and Tommy doesn’t waste a second. He throws his backpack in the cab behind our seats and sets to turning the car on. The radio blasts with the sugary sounds of Sabrina Carpenter who croons on about having bed chem.
And immediately I feel my cheeks pinken because my mind wanders to this morning. To waking up with Russell Sterling of all people.
I pull out my phone, the awkward silence between us almost palpable. I see a couple missed texts from both Zayne and Abby.
Abby…
The last thing I remember is her telling me her mother was in some sort of accident, and my heart races a little. I open her texts, breathing a sigh of relief that her texts tell me Pam is okay.
It looks like the last text came in late last night, or early this morning. Three am—the damn witching hour.
Abby: Text me let me know you got in okay.
Abby: I hope you’re passed out in bed and not ignoring me.
Abby: Mom’s okay. No concussion or any scrapes or bruises.
Abby: You better text me in the morning and give me all the details or I’m going to send a search party.
I smirk at her texts—not just the news that her mom is okay, but her concern for me. I know she wouldn’t have left me otherwise, and a part of me feels strangely conflicted.
If she would have stayed I might not have danced with Rush. And I certainly wouldn’t have woken up with him or noticed Freddie and his heated gaze this morning…
Tommy glances at me from his peripheral vision before looking forward. “You can change it, if you want. The radio, I mean.”
I let out a sigh as I stare at Abby’s text. “I’m good, thanks,” I say, but even I can hear the guilt and tiredness in my voice.
Thankfully, I don’t have any clients booked until noon today, which means I’ve got at least a few hours before I have to be in the shop. A few hours to feed the cat, maybe decompress. Shower and try to put this damn mortifying moment behind me.
God, Rush and Freddie must think I’m a damn idiot.
Why I care about what they think—especially now, given the present circumstances, is beyond me. But I can’t shake the feeling that I do. Care. What they think of me.
Tommy looks back at me as we stop at a stop sign.
He opens his mouth, then stops. Looks forward. Then he sighs, looking back at me, and just as I think he’s going to say nothing and drive off, he speaks.
“Are you…um…okay? You seem…nervous,” he says carefully. “I hope it’s not something I said or—”
“No, it’s not,” I assure him, shifting my position in the seat next to him. I’m strangely aware of how close we actually are. I’m also acutely aware that he keeps looking at me weird, but it doesn’t make me feel strange. If anything, it’s almost a comfort. Like a balm to my uneasy soul.
The words come easier than they should, even though my head is splitting and the sting of remorse and pain fester inside of me.
“Brett and I broke up,” I say carefully as he presses on the gas and takes off once more.
“What?” His gasp is not missed. “Since when?”
I sigh, glancing at my phone. I check my text thread. No text since that last one, the it’s over text that broke my damn heart.
“Since the other day when I came home to find him in bed with someone else.”
Tommy sighs deeply as he pulls around the bend. I know we’re almost to my brother’s and part of me wonders how he remembered the address when I can’t say I even remember telling him about my brother in the first place.
“I’m sorry,” he says, and the tone of his voice is so vulnerable, so sweet…
“Yeah,” I say softly. “Me too.”
I look up at him as we come to a stop sign, noting his gaze is sad. He looks like he wants to say something, but is unsure.
“What?” I ask.
His hands tighten on the steering wheel as his gaze drifts to my mouth, then to my eyes once more.
I can tell that whatever it is he wants to say, it’s something he isn’t sure about. Maybe he’s even a little worried, but I also know Tommy has a tendency to overthink things like I do.
“If there’s something you want to say, Tommy, you can say it.” I implore him with my gaze. “You know you can be honest with me, right?”
I’ve always tried to talk to him, at events and when I see him around town, if only because I know what it’s like to be in your head all the time.
Though I know my introversion differs a bit because I’m not on the spectrum like he is, but still…
I’ve always felt a sort of camaraderie, a connection of sorts with Tommy because we’re both similar in that regard.
And I also know how rewarding and fulfilling it can be to have someone you can talk to. I know he has his friends—Zack and Chloe—and his brothers, but I have always tried to be an open place for him too.
Even if he doesn’t accept it. After all, I’d had plans to be a part of this family, and so I’d tried to form connections them. Get to know them better, especially when Brett was out of town.
“I don’t think you need me to talk,” he says carefully before picking up the gas again. “I mean…”
It’s the tone of his voice. The way his eyebrows furrow and his bright green eyes glisten in the sunlight. The way his blond hair catches the light like an angelic halo. It’s the faint definition in his biceps as he grips the steering wheel.
“I don’t want to talk about things that don’t matter. I want…” He licks his lips, struggling with his words, but the endearment can be felt, like a being all on its own. “I want to listen.” He lets out a breath.
“You want to listen? To me?”
He nods. “Yeah. Is that bad or—”
I shake my head, licking my lips as my heart lifts. “No, Tommy. It’s not bad, it’s just—”
He turns to look at me once more. “You can be honest with me,” he says. “But I understand if you don’t want to talk, I just…” He runs a hand through his hair, and I see the faint shake of his hand like he’s nervous.
“Are you okay, Tommy?”
He looks at me with furrowed eyebrows, and I think he’s going to say no. Skim over whatever it is that’s actually bothering him.
“I don’t know,” he says honestly. “Sometimes I don’t know how to process what I feel. You know? It…takes some time.”
I nod as I lean closer to him, settling my hand on his leg and giving him an assuring squeeze. “I do know.”
His gaze drops to my hand and he lets out a heavy breath. “I’ve um…never exactly been in a relationship, so I don’t really have any basis for comparison,” he says carefully.
I blink as his words settle on me. I knew he’d been single a while, but I never considered that he had never been in a relationship, period.
It’s surprising.
Not because of him being autistic, but because Tommy’s such a sweet boy. He’s smart—graduated with honors, and his attention to detail is unmatched. I’ve seen the things he builds with his Legos, completely out of nothing but his own imagination.
Not to mention, he’s got those patented Sterling good looks, much like his brothers.
Though where Rush has that golden retriever energy and look, and Freddie’s got the bold, intense, smoldering thing down pat, Tommy’s got that baby face and softness that is somehow the perfect blend of masculine form and feminine beauty.
Even now, I can see the thick veins in his biceps, the tone and definition in his broad shoulders. But I can also see the smooth shine in his hair, his long, thick eyelashes that are so dark and frame his green eyes perfectly.
How on earth has he never had a girlfriend before? I would have thought the girls would be lining up in droves for a sweetheart like Tommy Sterling.
“But…” He lets out a sigh as the car slows, turning down my street. “I know what rejection feels like.” He says the words softly. “It sucks.” His eyebrows furrow and he frowns.
“Yeah, it does,” I say, feeling strangely vulnerable.
“Especially if you love the person.” His voice is softer now as he looks back at me. “Did…” He swallows hard. “Did you love him? Brett, I mean?”
It’s the way he asks. Curious. Intrigued. Like my heart and its desires are some unsolved mystery to him.
I could easily lie. Or just…not answer him. My brother’s house is coming up, and it would be all too easy to just…slip away and pretend this conversation didn’t happen.
Pretend last night didn’t happen.
Or this breakup.
But my heart doesn’t want to stay quiet. It wants to cry out, and something tells me I can do that with Tommy and he won’t say anything. He’ll listen. Because he wants to.
And that makes me feel safer than it should.
“Yes,” I say softly. “I thought we were going to get married and have kids, you know.”
Tommy frowns.
The truck grows silent as he pulls up to my brother’s house.
Neither of us make a move, though, not immediately. Just as I swallow and move to open the door, he speaks.
“Yeah,” he says softly. “I mean, I don’t know, not personally, but…” He lets his hand fall from the steering wheel as he looks at me with a sad gaze. “I want those things too.”
It’s not the words themselves, but the sadness in them. The pain. His ache can be felt like it’s a being all on its own.
I squeeze his thigh once more. “And one day you’ll have it. I know you will.”
His gaze falls to my hand as he licks his lips. He doesn’t look at me.
“You’re still young, Tommy. You’ve got plenty of time to fall in love and find your happily ever after.”
He looks up at me with glistening green eyes. “Maybe.” He licks his lips. “Maybe we’ll both find what we’re looking for, someday.”
I give him a soft smile as I open my door. “Thanks for the ride.”
He nods as I shut the door. “Any time, Nora. I’m—” He lets out a heavy sigh. “We’re…friends, right?”
It’s the way he asks. So innocently. Like he truly doesn’t know what our relationship is. And maybe he doesn’t know, because technically his brother left me and we shouldn’t even be here right now. It’s a weird sort of limbo I didn’t plan on wading into, but now that I’m here…
I answer him honestly, because I get the feeling honesty is best with Tommy.
“Yes,” I say with a smile. “Yes, Tommy. I’d say we’re friends.”
He nods at me. “Okay, so…friends are…always there for each other…right?”
The pure sweetness in his voice makes my chest warm.
I smile, and it’s genuine. “Right.”
He smiles back, and I swear it’s the most beautiful grin I’ve ever seen. It makes him look youthful and warm and full of hope, and that speaks to me on another level.
“Then, as your friend, I am always here. If you need me, I mean. To talk or…to listen.” He hurriedly rushes to add, “I mean, if that’s okay…”
I nod. “I appreciate that. And yes, it’s okay.”
He clears his throat. “I have to uh…get to class, but…” He straightens his spine, his gaze holding mine carefully. “Do you have my number?”
I shake my head. “No, I don’t think so.”
He nods at my dress and clothes in my arms, my phone on top of the pile. “Give me your phone?” he says shakily, then adds, “You know…in case you want to uh…talk…”
I don’t think about it, I just hand it to him. I know this interaction is a lot for him, and honestly it’s the most words he’s said to me since I’ve known him, but I feel a connection to him.
I feel a comfort talking to him that feels different, and maybe different is okay. He might be my ex’s brother, but I feel like we’re on the same page with things in more ways than one.
I watch as he types his number in, his fingers slightly shaking. He holds the phone out, offering it back to me, and I take it, our fingers grazing one another.
“Thanks,” I say. “I’ll remember that.”
He nods. “Okay.”
Then he turns the car on and wastes no time heading off toward campus, leaving me alone with my racing heart and a warmth inside me that didn’t exist before.