Chapter 18
Eighteen
Girls Group Chat
Claire
How are you feeling, Beck?
Meg
Oh, no. Did you catch the cold that’s going around?
Hannah
Do you need me to bring you anything?
Claire
Ryan was very worried when he called me last night!
Meg
Ryan called you?!?
What? Why??
Hannah
Logan told me Ryan spent the night to take care of her…
Meg
Aw. That’s so sweet.
Ya I’m feeling better this morning still exhausted though
Ryan called you???
Why?
Claire
He was very worried and didn’t know how to help you.
Hannah
He’s becoming a good “friend” …
Meg
Really good apparently
So, we are friends
It’s no big deal
It was nice having someone take care of me, tbh
Claire
I have a question
Hannah
So do I…
Okaaaay?
Meg
I’ll ask
Where did your “friend” sleep last night? Your trailer isn’t exactly big enough for sleepovers
Hannah
That!!
Claire
lololol
Tossing my phone on the couch beside me, I lean back and stare up at the ceiling. I can’t be mad that they are teasing me about Ryan. I would be the first person to give any of them a hard time.
Standing, I go to the fridge to grab a bottle of juice, and I am shocked to see it’s packed to the max.
I knew Ryan had stuff delivered, and that he went overboard on cough and cold items. But this is something else.
Shutting the door, I slowly open the pantry cupboard.
Jeepers. It’s overflowing with food. I couldn’t put another thing in there if I tried.
When I hear the trailer door open, I spin around to see Ryan.
Smiling warmly at me, he says, “You’re up. Are you feeling better?”
He places two cups of coffee and a bakery box on the table, then a couple of bags on the floor before he kicks off his shoes.
“Come. I brought you breakfast.” Gesturing to a chair, he grins before saying, “You should eat some healthy food before you have a cupcake.” When I don’t move, he takes a few strides towards me and clasps my shoulders.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” His hands move to my cheeks and then forehead as he checks me for a fever.
“I’m okay,” I say. His face falls when I push his hands away and sidestep him.
“Remember earlier when you said you had some groceries delivered with all of that?” I gesture with my hand towards the table, irritation creeping into my voice.
“You didn’t mention you ordered the whole damn store. What the fuck, Ryan?”
“Except for coffee,” he chuckles as he bites his bottom lip.
“What?” I ask with exasperation in my voice.
“When I ordered the whole damn store, I forgot to ask for coffee.” He smirks as he lifts one shoulder.
“Are you kidding me right now?” I shout, stomping my foot. “I’m throwing a tantrum because you have overstocked my cupboards and fridge and I don’t know how to process your kindness. And you’re still upset that there’s no coffee.”
“Take all the time you need to think about it,” he says calmly. “While you do, how about we eat our breakfast and then you can enjoy the cupcake I picked up for you. It’s your favourite—black forest with a cherry on top.” Taking my hips in his hands, he spins me towards the table and pats my butt.
“Ryan, you don’t understand. I don’t have the money to pay for all of that.”
“I don’t need money, Beck,” he leans in and whispers behind my ear.
“Why are you being so nice to me?”
“Because I like you,” he says simply.
What does that even mean—he likes me? Does he like me, like me, or am I his buddy?
Is it just the forced proximity we have found ourselves in over the past few weeks?
Why do I feel like a teenager with my first crush?
Ugh, I hate not knowing. I could just ask him.
That would be the adult thing to do. But I don’t want to look stupid if this is no more than two friends hanging out.
He interrupts my spiral when he places my food in front of me and he says, “Is now a good time or a bad time to tell you that while I was out, I picked you up a coffee maker?”
“What the hell?”
After we finish our breakfast, Ryan finds the perfect spot for my “new coffee pot.” I must admit it has some cool features and takes up hardly any counter space.
Sitting on the couch, he drapes his arm along the back and asks, “So what do you want to do for the rest of the day?”
“Do?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at him. “I assumed you would go home after breakfast.”
“Yeah. I was thinking we could watch a movie or one of those true-crime documentaries that you like.” Reaching, he grabs my hand and pulls me towards him until I’m standing between his legs. Looking up at me, he says, “Or if you are tired, we can have a nap.”
Stepping away, I move to sit on the couch sideways so I can face him. “What’s going on? I’m feeling better today. Don’t you want to leave? I’m sure you must have things to do.”
“Not really. I’m sure you’ve noticed, but I don’t have a lot of friends.
” He raises his hand, stopping me before I can say anything.
“No, that came out wrong. I have friends. Good ones. They are just busy with their own lives. Carson has the farm. Riot’s always working and helping Claire with Ben.
Dillon,”—he chuckles—“well, Dillon has Harold to deal with. And I don’t know Logan well, but he has a lot on his plate too. ”
Reaching across the small distance between us, he takes my hand in his. “I don’t think I realized how much time I’ve been spending alone. So…yeah. Even if you say you’re feeling better, I would like to spend more time together. I enjoy hanging out with you.”
Rolling my eyes, I say, “Even when I’m coughing all over you?”
“Yes, even then. But if you want me to leave, say the word and I’ll go.”
“I like hanging out with you too. Can I pick the documentary?” I ask, bouncing in my seat. “There’s a new one that was recently released that I really want to see.”
“Whatever you want, Trouble,” he says as he reaches over and twirls the end of my braid around his fingers.
“Fair warning, you may regret saying that.”
Grabbing the TV remote from the shelf beside the couch, I bring up the streaming service and scroll to find the show I was talking about.
“Do you enjoy living here?” he asks, shifting in his spot to look at me.
Pausing, I glance at him. “In Emerley?”
“No, in your Airstream.”
“Yes and no.”
“What are your favourite things?” he prompts me with a soft smile.
After thinking for a moment, I say, “I’m proud that it’s completely mine. With some help, I tore it apart and made it what it is now. Nobody questioned or judged my colour choices, the fabric I used, or how girly I made it.”
“It’s very cozy and inviting. That’s one of the first things I noticed the first time I was here. You did an amazing job.”
My heart swells with pride at his compliment. My parents would be appalled that I live here. Braden would hate everything about it.
“So, what do you wish was different?” he asks, watching me intently like my response is the most important thing in the world.
Without any hesitation, I answer, “The bathroom. I would love to have a shower large enough to turn around without bumping the sides. That night at the hotel was the first time I’ve truly enjoyed a shower in months. I would positively die to soak in a bathtub right now.”
He’s silent for a moment before saying, “I can make that happen.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Do you think you’re feeling well enough to come to my place? I have a soaker tub that doesn’t get much use that I think you’d enjoy. We can either stay there to watch your documentary or come back here. It’s up to you. What do you say?”
“Seriously?”
“Sure, why not? You said you would like to take a bath, and I have a bathtub right up the road. Unless that makes you uncomfortable, of course.”
“Are you kidding? That is an offer I can’t pass up.”
“Great.” He dips his chin and stands. “Pack a bag with a change of clothes and whatever else you think you’ll need,” he says, pulling me to my feet, “and then we will head out.”
“You don’t have to convince me. Let’s go.”