Chapter Nine #2
“Shower?!” His voice cracked. “I’ll, um—d-don’t worry about me, sweetheart.
” He huffed a laugh and straightened to face her, rubbing a hand awkwardly along the back of his neck.
“I’ll—I’ve got another, um—an-another bathroom.
Two others, actually. One’s even down in my studio.
” His eyes widened and he began to sputter.
“Oh shit. THE STUDIO. Please don’t go down there.
Don’t go down into the basement at all.” He held up his hands, almost defensively.
“It’s an absolute mess and I don’t want you getting hurt or anything.
Glass everywhere, and uh…well, I have some pretty dangerous equipment, and I—I’ll just…
meet you back in the living room when you’re done.
” He motioned toward the vanity and the shower.
“Help yourself. Use whatever—whatever you want.” The rest of his face turned red, and he backed slowly out of the bathroom.
“T-tea or hot chocolate?” he asked again.
Audrey tilted her head curiously at him. Now he was acting stranger than usual all of a sudden. “Hot chocolate?”
“Great. I will…make that. For you.” Theo turned and limped away, and Audrey poked her head through the doorway to watch him dart back downstairs before slowly shutting the bathroom door behind her.
Theo’s shower was the most heavenly thing she’d ever experienced, like something straight out of a luxury spa, and she took her time warming up under the scalding hot water.
Hers at home always took a good five minutes at least to warm up, and the water pressure was never quite strong enough to actually rinse everything out of her hair.
Theo’s was practically a high-pressure massage in comparison, and Audrey moaned as the jets from multiple shower heads pounded against her back and scalp, easing all the tension out of her shoulders.
She closed her eyes and leaned into it before using some of Theo’s bath products, all of which were in thick glass bottles labeled in a foreign language.
Not that she’d ever thought he was the kind of guy who just used hand soap as shampoo or something, but this did seem to explain how his hair was so good—at least in part, anyway.
Hers felt like silk by the time she turned off the shower and reached for a towel, which was thick and fluffy and warm, heated by the rack Theo had placed it on for her.
A built-in towel warmer? Heated ceramic tile? Multiple floors? No discernible roommates?!
What was this?
How rich was Theo, exactly?
Audrey paused at the thought, teetering on the verge of panic. She was beginning to feel completely out of her depth when she reached for the pile of clothes Theo had brought her to choose from. And then she smiled.
Just beneath the faded, worn Columbia Lacrosse T-shirt and massive pair of matching navy sweatpants was a familiar black hoodie, soft and fleecy and perfectly broken in. She held it to her nose and inhaled deeply, letting Theo’s warm, woodsy scent wash over her. It did make her feel better.
He’d already shown her who he was. He’d visited her apartment, knew where she worked, saw where she studied. Theo didn’t seem to care in the slightest that she didn’t have much to her name.
Why should she care that he did?
By the time she padded back downstairs, clad in Theo’s massive clothes with his hoodie hanging down almost to her knees like a dress and his sweatpants rolled at least four times at the waist, he was standing in the kitchen, stirring chocolate milk on the stove with a slight furrow to his brow.
His dark hair was freshly re-wetted and curling around his jaw, and gray sweatpants printed with “Columbia” along the leg were slung low on his waist. A black long-sleeved T-shirt stretched precariously tight across his broad chest, revealing far more defined muscle than he’d let her see before, and Billie Holiday crooned from a record spinning in a retro player in the living area.
Rain still pelted the floor-to-ceiling windows, smattering hard against the glass while thunder rumbled in the distance, lightning occasionally flashing across the cityscape.
It didn’t look like the storm was letting up anytime soon.
Audrey shuffled into the kitchen in Theo’s thick socks and put her arms around his waist, burying her face in his side.
“Warmed up now?” he asked, his voice rumbling deep as he slid an arm around her and pulled her closer.
She nodded and felt him chuckle. “Better?” She nodded again.
She did feel a lot better. “Good.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head before taking the pot off the stove and pouring it into two waiting mugs with his left hand.
He topped them off with some whipped cream and picked one up, but stilled and stared at the remaining mug with his right hand outstretched.
It hovered there, trembling, and he screwed up his face in concentration when he tried to grasp the ceramic cup between his fingertips, clearly trying to will his hand to stop shaking. “Come on,” he whispered to himself, his voice so low she almost didn’t hear him. “Come on.”
But his fingers couldn’t hold the mug steady, and when he tried to lift it away from the counter, the hot chocolate nearly spilled over the sides from his tremor.
He set it down quickly and tried again with the handle.
But when the same thing happened a second time, he put both mugs down and glanced at her, despair clouding his expression.
His shoulders slumped, and Theo stepped back sharply from the counter, covering his eyes with both hands. His chest heaved.
It looked like he was trying not to cry.
“Hey.” Audrey stepped over and pulled his hands down. As soon as he caught her eye, he closed his and faced away from her.
“I can’t even hold a fucking mug right now without spilling everywhere and making a mess. I’m a disaster.”
“Theo. Look at me.” She slid her hands up along the sides of his neck to cradle his cheeks. They were smooth, like he’d just shaved, and he wasn’t wearing the silicone scar tape. He’d scrubbed the paint away from his scar, and it was redder than it had been before.
Everything about him right now was stripped bare and rendered raw.
He shook his head.
“I hate myself. I hate that I’m like this—that I’m so broken.”
“Don’t say that, Theo. I like you the way you are.”
She held his hand, but he didn’t seem to notice or hear her.
He was still lost within himself.
“How am I ever going to do my art again? Or take care of you? Or…o-or—”
“Well, the answer’s obvious.”
His eyes shot open, and he frowned at her. “It is?”
She smiled softly and picked up both mugs in her own hands. “I’ll be the one to hold things steady until you can.” She offered one to Theo and waited.
He stared at the outstretched mug. After what seemed like an eternity, he lifted his left hand and plucked it away from her. “Thank you, sweetheart,” he whispered. He sniffed and wiped at his right eye. “How are you real?” he asked, searching her face. “Where did you come from?”
“Tampa.”
She’d deadpanned her answer, and after a second, he barked a surprised laugh before grabbing her free hand with his.
“Of course. Tampa.”
He limped with her over to the couch, and once he sat, Audrey curled up next to him and tucked herself under his arm.
When Theo punched a button on a remote, a fire blazed to life in the grate beneath the TV, and they listened to the music mixed with the sounds of the rain pattering against the windows while quietly sipping their hot chocolate together.
Between the warmth of the drink in her stomach and the heat Theo radiated around her, Audrey began to melt into his chest.
“You’ve been quieter than usual since we left campus and came here,” he murmured softly, combing through her drying waves. “Is something the matter? Is it me? Did I do something?”
He was right in that she’d gone a bit quiet, but he certainly wasn’t the reason.
Not exactly.
She shook her head and kept staring at her mug. Theo placed two fingers under her chin and gently tilted her head to make her look at him. “Audrey?” His eyes were warm and soft in the light of the fire, and his brows knit together in concern while he studied her face. “What’s wrong?”
She looked away from him and back at the neon sign on the wall.
“That’s really cool. Is it from your dad’s shop?”
“Yes, it was.” Theo chewed on his bottom lip, but he didn’t press her.
“How old is it? Is it vintage?” It had the look of an antique neon sign, very much a piece of classic Americana, and she wondered how long the auto shop had been in his family.
“No, actually. It’s only about ten years old, maybe?” He pointed at the car. “That one was my dad’s favorite—a 1965 Ford Thunderbird. He loved it so much that he wanted it immortalized on his shop’s sign.”
“Does he have a new sign there now if you have this one?”
Theo shook his head slowly. Something came over his eyes—something deeply sad. “No. The shop is sold now. This was the only thing I wanted to keep from it.”
“What happened? Did he retire?”
“No.”
He grew very quiet.
A creeping feeling prickled along the back of her neck. She was close to landing on something raw, but she hadn’t been able to stop herself from asking the question in time.
“My dad died. About six months ago.” His eyes darted over to the console set beneath the sign and Audrey’s followed.
Now that she was looking at it properly, a black-and-white photo of a very handsome man sat framed beneath the neon sign, lit up by the yellow, turquoise, and red-orange glow.
He had the same crooked, roguish smile as his son, the same distinctive nose, and the same crinkles around his eyes as he smiled at the camera.
He looked young, about Theo’s age now, and he held a grinning toddler on his hip, whose large ears poked through a familiar mop of dark hair.
Her heart dropped.
“Oh. Oh, Theo, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—”