Chapter 23 #2
I may call him “sunshine” as a way to get under his skin, a nickname I know he doesn’t like.
And it fits.
But I’m learning it’s not just because of his attitude or his personality.
It’s because he’s like the sun—unhurried, inevitable.
Steady in a way that doesn’t ask anything from me.
I don’t have to look for him to know he’s there.
And maybe that’s what has been slowly undoing me since I asked him to play along and he did without hesitation. There’s a quiet certainty to him, the way he keeps coming back, the way he doesn’t make me earn his constancy.
Even when I’m not sure I deserve something so unwavering.
And seeing him in this kind of light—letting me be someone he leans on—slices something open in my chest. It’s different from the way I’ve always taken care of everyone else. With my sisters. With my mom. With Rumi and Evee. Even with Emerson.
I take care of them because I want to. Because I have to. Because loving them has always meant being the strong one. The one that holds it all together in ways they don’t even realize.
But this feels different.
There isn’t any obligation, instinct, or survival.
It’s not me bracing myself to carry the weight.
It’s me wanting to stand beside him and hold it together.
Because I know he’d do the same for me—that I wouldn’t even have to ask him to.
And that scares me more than I expected.
“You don’t have to tell me,” I whisper, my hands finding the sides of his face, holding his gaze. “Just know that you can.”
He shuts his eyes, leaning his head forward until it rests against my shoulder, his lips against my skin, and I let him.
We stand there until the water begins to run cold, holding him tightly against me, being the one who helps him stand upright, his body relaxing against mine.
“He told me a lot of things I needed to hear but wasn’t ready to,” Anderson says against my skin before lifting his head up, reaching behind him to turn the water off.
I step out of his hold, opening the glass door enough to reach out and grab our towels hanging just outside on the two hooks I bought and installed the day after I moved in.
Closing the door quickly to keep as much of the steam—and this moment—in, I wordlessly hand him his towel before swinging mine around my shoulders. “What sort of things?” I ask quietly.
He wraps his towel around his waist, leaving his chest on full display.
Even in the low light of the shower, I can see the droplets of water slowly sliding down his skin, causing goosebumps to form.
I instantly get the obnoxious, conflicting urge to lick each drop of water off him and grab him another towel to dry him off and keep him warm at the same time.
“Remember how I told you that we didn’t have to worry about my family when we told them about us getting married?” Anderson says.
I nod, my heart stuttering at his lack of the word “fake”, but the thought instantly makes me want to slap myself across the face. “I remember. You said that telling them would just make them realize they didn’t know you were in a relationship because they didn’t remember or didn’t ask.”
Protectiveness lights inside me like a match, misplaced and unnecessary, yet strong with the power to get a whole lot bigger if I give in to it.
He lets out an exhale. “Well, that’s been the case for most of my life. My uncle—Chief Sanders—heard from Jack that we are getting married. I guess Jack figured he knew, but I didn’t tell him. My mom didn’t either, which is what he wanted to talk about.”
“Is he your mom’s brother?” I ask as I wrap my towel around my body, holding it at my chest.
Anderson nods, running a hand through his wet hair. “Apparently, he had talked to her not too long ago, and he was shocked she didn’t say anything about our engagement, but had tons to say about what my brothers were up to.”
I knew Anderson had younger brothers—I’ve seen the pictures he has in the house, and he’s mentioned them before. He talks about them the same way I talk about my sisters—with love and adoration, but also more like a parent than like a sibling.
It’s a tiny detail most wouldn’t even notice.
But as an eldest child, it’s hard to miss.
“She went on about all the exciting things going on in their lives, but said nothing about mine. And when I tried to defend her, he didn’t let me,” he explains, letting out a sigh.
“He made me realize that I took on taking care of my brothers because I thought I was helping her after my dad died. But then it became this expectation, and I don’t want to do it anymore. ”
I know exactly what he means.
“Anderson, if I could tell you that you don’t have to and have that be the end of it, I would, but I know it’s not that easy.”
“I wish it was,” he says, letting his head fall back, pushing his palms into his eyes. “For my brothers, it would be,” he murmurs as his hands slide down his face.
Reaching for his arm, I pull his focus back to me.
“You took on a parental role, one you didn’t have to take on but felt like you did.
” His tired gaze finds mine, and I know he needs sleep, so I leave him with what my therapist tells me.
“It’s a hard habit to break, especially after years of putting pressure on yourself and the toll stress like that takes. ”
The words flow easily, recited from memory almost word-for-word.
His lips twitch. “It’s good advice.” His hand finds mine, interlacing our fingers. “You sound like you speak from experience.” He flashes a knowing smile, but it looks like it takes the last bit of his energy for it to reach his eyes.
It’s advice I wish I could take myself.
But he doesn’t need to know that.
“And you thought I was just a pretty face,” I tease, giving his hand a squeeze before letting go, suddenly uncomfortable with all of this, needing to find that distance that makes me feel safe and in control.
The familiar prickling begins in my fingertips. The need to count my breaths, count my palms opening and closing, count the drops of water slowly dripping from the showerhead.
Count with me, Ava. The paramedics will be there any minute, okay? Just focus on your breathing. Ready? Breathe in. Good, that’s one. Breathe out. Good, that’s another one. Keep going. Two, three, four…
The memory flashes in my mind, fuzzy and fragmented.
My mom.
The broken bottles.
The blood.
When I found her that way the first time, I didn’t have a big sister who would drop everything to get to me. To tell me everything was going to be okay. To save me when the person who should protect me was the one hurting me.
I had the 911 operator.
“Ava?” Anderson’s voice cuts through the thoughts. I don’t know how long I was staring blankly at his chest, but it was long enough to not realize his hands are gripping my arms, his face just inches from mine. “Ava,” he says again. “Where’d you go, love?”
I clear my throat, suddenly cold from my wet hair and damp towel around me. “Nowhere,” I say with a dry laugh, reaching to open the shower door and stepping out of Anderson’s grip. “You need to get to bed, sunshine.” I keep my voice light, gentle.
“Right,” he says, wiping his hand down his face. Exhaustion clouding his features even more as we both come back to the moment.
“I’ll make sure Georgie is quiet when she gets home in a few hours.” I step out of the shower, the light from the bathroom coming in as if to remind us we aren’t the only two people in the world—even if it did feel like it. “We’re both home today, so we’ll be careful not to wake you.”
Anderson coughs into his fist, holding his towel as he follows me out of the shower. Seeing him out of the darkness further shows just how much he needs to go to sleep. “No worries.”
We stare at each other, neither of us wanting to be the first to move. It feels almost awkward all of a sudden, like when a first date is ending, and you don’t know if you should kiss or not.
If the first date was having a heart-to-heart in the shower, naked and wet, and not having sex.
“Well,” I start, “goodnight.” I turn around, shaking my head at myself.
If it wasn’t awkward before, it sure as fuck is now.
“Goodnight, love,” he whispers, but it sounds like a plea.
And it takes everything in me not to turn around.