Chapter 24
Dean
“We need to talk about this,” I said.
Oliver looked up at me from the couch. His lips parted and his eyes were wide as he checked me out. It was probably dumb to come out here in only a pair of shorts, but I’d just gotten out of the shower and dreaded putting on a shirt until I was completely dry.
I snapped my fingers to get his attention. After blinking a few times, he looked at the towel in my hand. Cocking his head, he resumed his usual, easygoing demeanor.
“Did I leave it on the floor again?” he asked.
“No, this was in the cabinet.”
“Then I’m failing to see the issue.”
I gave him an incredulous look as I shook the hand holding the towel. “Why does it look like this?”
“Uh, well, Dean.” He laced his fingers on the coffee table and leaned forward. The way his lips quirked was so mischievous, it made him look like a rambunctious teenager. “Maybe you didn’t learn this growing up, but when you do laundry, you’re supposed to put things away after.”
“You’re supposed to fold them first, dingus.”
“It is folded.”
“This”—I tossed it into his lap—“is not folded. It’s balled up.”
He scoffed and looked down at the towel. The smile fell from his face as he studied it. “Hmm. I guess it could be prettier, but this isn’t Bed Bath and Beyond. You get what you pay for.”
I snatched it from his lap and went into the bathroom to grab the rest of them. When I came back, his eyes tracked me every step of the way. I dropped to my knees and started folding them the right way because I wasn’t a damn psychopath.
He joined me on the floor, watching like it was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen.
“I don’t need help,” I snapped. It might’ve been my imagination, but I thought I saw him flinch. Immediately, I took a breath and looked at him. “Sorry.”
“I want to learn.”
Continuing to fold the towel, I slowed my movements. “There are YouTube tutorials if you care that much.”
“I don’t. Not for myself, at least. I’ve never folded a towel until I moved here, so I didn’t really know there was a right way and a wrong way.”
“It just looks nicer and sits in the cabinet better. Not a big deal.”
“Big enough for you to come out here and scold me.” He smiled, his hazel eyes flickering with amusement.
Without waiting for me to say anything, he grabbed one of the towels and laid it out like mine, then nodded for me to keep going. He followed my movements exactly. I expected him to somehow screw it up, but clearly I needed to give him more credit.
“Look at that,” I said. “You are capable.”
His fist slammed into my bicep, and even though it hurt, I laughed.
“What else am I doing wrong?” he asked.
My eyes went to the entryway where there was a box I’d brought in earlier. He followed my gaze and grimaced.
“I’ve been dying to open it,” he admitted.
“Why haven’t you?”
“I figured you’d be mad.”
With a sigh, I sat back. “You’re putting too much stock in what I think about stuff that’s not my business.”
“I value your opinion, though. You’re just better at this life thing.”
“You really didn’t have anyone to teach you anything? Remi?”
He shook his head, keeping his gaze on the box. “He’s better at it too, but he has a tendency to just do things himself. When I lived with him, he took care of me. When I was lost, he brought me back, and when I didn’t know how to do something, he did it. That’s sort of why I moved out.”
“Can you tell me more about it?”
A little smile made his face brighten. Getting to his feet, he held a hand out to me. I took it, letting him pull me up, then I released him. He walked onto the balcony and grabbed a tiny pair of garden snips. I watched him prune the dying leaves off of his plants while he hummed softly.
And I just waited, not even sure if he’d answer my question. At this point, I didn’t want to push him because he seemed so at peace out here with his plants.
The song was the same one he’d been singing the other night before he heard me at the door. I found myself feeling content as I leaned against the railing.
“Rise up this morning, smile with the rising sun,” I sang quietly. When he looked over his shoulder at me, my cheeks heated, but I continued. “Three little birds pitch by my doorstep singin’ sweet songs of melodies pure and true, singin’, ‘This is my message to you.’”
“Singin’ don’t worry about a thing,” he joined in. “Cause every little thing’s gonna be alright.”
“You like that song.”
There was a soft expression on his face as he continued to tend to his plants. “How could I not? I used to sing it to myself, then I taught it to Remi. It got him through the bad times.”
“And you.”
He shrugged one shoulder. Moving closer to him, I kept my weight against the railing but nudged him with my toe. The way he avoided looking at me now made my stomach constrict.
I pushed away from the edge and turned him by the shoulder. He ducked his head, but I put two fingers beneath his chin and lifted his face.
My eyes widened at the same moment that something felt like it struck me in the chest.
A tear. There was a tear rolling down his cheek.
“Did I say something wrong?” I asked.
“Of course not.” He smiled as if everything was just fine.
It looked like he was okay, but then why was he crying?
“Bad memories?”
“Foster care sucks,” he replied. “Always has and probably always will. I got pushed around, beat up a bit, and all that. But those aren’t the things that stick with me. Not really.”
“Tell me.”
“There’s this hopelessness that sets in, and eventually you just have to accept that nobody’s coming to save you. I leaned on Remi when we were together, but that was only for a year. He got placed somewhere else when he was sixteen, then he disappeared.”
“Like, he ran off?”
“Yeah. He sent me letters, though, so I knew he was okay. I was thirteen then, and I wanted to do the same thing, but I knew there was no way I’d survive.
He fought to get emancipated, and because he’s freaking Remi, he pulled it off.
Left the state altogether and came to Seattle.
I was stuck in San Francisco, bouncing from place to place until they stuck me in a group home that was a nightmare. ”
“How’d you get here?”
“I turned sixteen and decided I was going to be like Remi. Things were bad where I was at, so I up and left.”
“Just like that?”
He shrugged. “Remi would’ve told me to stay.
He’d already said it a thousand times. It was hard as hell for him to get his life together, and he didn’t want me to be in the same boat.
So, I started hitch hiking. It took me a month, but I made it to his door.
The bastard should’ve turned me away and called my social worker, but he's—”
“But he’s Remi,” I finished with a little chuckle. “So, you were a stowaway.”
“Yeah, he wouldn’t have been allowed to keep me. But I was just another kid close to aging out who ditched his placement. We disappear all the time, and trust me, there are more sinister reasons it happens.”
The idea of it made my gut feel acidic. Realizing my fingers were still beneath his chin, I told myself to move away, but I ended up spreading them further, cupping his jaw.
Again, that intense wave of protectiveness surged inside me, demanding that I take away the dark look in his eyes.
Whatever had caused it shouldn’t have existed, and from what he’d said, he wasn’t even the one who had it the worst.
“You’re strong,” I said. “Stronger than I would’ve thought when we met.”
“Yeah, you just thought I was weird.”
“Still do.”
Eyeing him carefully, I tried to decide if he was better now. Maybe he’d always be okay, even when he wasn’t. I didn’t have a clue how to work with that yet, but it was something I had to figure out.
“You want to open that package now?” I asked.
His eyes lit up. A second later, his eyes lowered.
Releasing him immediately, I huffed. “The one by the door, you ass.”
“I was gonna do it after you went to bed.”
“Jesus. I don’t care if you buy shit, Oli. It’s your money.”
“But you’re trying to help me.”
“Well, if you want me to help, you can’t just hide that you’re spending money. That’s counterproductive and sort of childish.”
He stuck his lips out while he considered it. “Fine. My bad.”
Whirling around, he rushed inside. I breathed a laugh as I followed. Before I could reach the entryway, my phone buzzed. Pulling it out, I bit my lip, wondering if I should send it to voicemail, but I couldn’t do that. Not with the way his health was.
“Hey, old man,” I answered.
“Hey, D.”
“Your voice is hoarse, Dad. You been drinking enough?”
“Not really. I’ll get myself something in a bit, okay? You have time to talk?”
“I—”
“Oh, hold on. Let me get your mom.”
It was a relief that she was there. I wanted to hear both of their voices.
We didn’t talk every day. More than once, we’d gone a couple of weeks between calls, but it didn’t take away from our relationship. I grew up being very independent, and they’d always treated me like I was grown. Sometimes, though, I just needed to talk to my parents.
“Dean,” she crooned suddenly.
“Hey, Mom.”
“I’m sorry we didn’t text you first. Me and Dad are heading out for dinner in a bit, but we wanted to talk to you before.”
“Dinner?”
“It’s celebratory,” Dad announced.
I tried to remember if it was their anniversary. That was still a few months away. None of our birthdays were in March either.
“What are you celebrating?” I asked.
“Mom got a new job.”
“Lee,” she scolded. “I was going to tell him.”
“I’m just excited for you, sweetie.”
“A new job?” I interrupted. “At a different hospital?”
Feeling eyes on me, I looked over at Oli and smiled. He returned it, then escaped into the kitchen.
“At a private practice,” she replied. “It’s such a nice place. Very upscale. The doctor who owns it is so nice.”
“His RN moved out of state, so he needed a replacement,” Dad chimed in.
“Were you applying for jobs?” I asked.