10. Forrest
TEN
Forrest
I was in bed with a woman who wasn’t Sophie.
And I was…I was okay.
I’d tried this before, only a few times…but I had tried. Every night, afterward, I’d asked her to leave—or she left on her own, uncomfortable with my silence or my attitude or…whatever the hell was wrong with me.
But Willa.
Willa was here, and she was…when she’d asked like that, I couldn’t say no.
Not couldn’t.
I didn’t want to say no. I wanted her.
At some point in those few seconds between the time she walked into my room and started taking off her clothes, I’d made a decision: she had been through enough.
She’d had enough people tell her what to do.
And even if she decided she didn’t want me in the end, even if she needed to get out in the world and explore…
I was going to give her what she wanted. What I wanted.
I was going to make it so good for her she’d know what standards should be when she left.
I pushed myself quietly out of bed and pulled on my boxers, leaving her tangled in the sheets so I could go and make coffee. Nickel followed me out, toenails tapping on the floor, giving one last look back as I crossed the threshold.
“You can stay,” I whispered. “I’m sure she’d love to see you first thing.”
Nickel cocked her head at me.
I frowned.
“Mm…you’re telling me I should cook,” I said. “Because cheese is more important than being a good hostess.”
She stared at me like I was the idiot for even asking.
I got the coffee started, then I stood at the early morning quiet and thought about what we had—which wasn’t much because I’d been living like a man who never expected company.
Eggs. Some bacon that was still good. Half a block of cheddar, which Nickel tracked with her eyes from the moment I opened the refrigerator, sitting like a very good girl and waiting.
“You’re getting some,” I told her. “Relax.”
She did not relax. Heeler thing.
I cooked and tried not to think, and that was exceptionally difficult because I’d never been good at turning off my brain. Bacon first, eggs in the same pan, cheese melted over the top. Toast from the end of a loaf that needed using. It wasn’t much. It was what I had.
I was plating it when I heard her footsteps on the floor, and I turned around to look at her.
The change from just a couple weeks ago…
she’d come into her own, decided what she wanted.
She was wearing my t-shirt, for one thing—nothing else, her nipples visible under the cotton, the hem barely brushing the tops of her thighs.
Her hair was down, so long it tumbled all the way to her waist, her eyes this brilliant shade of blue in the morning light.
I couldn’t help it; I undressed her with my eyes, and she blushed.
“You left,” she murmured.
“I’m making you breakfast,” I said. “Coffee?”
“Of course.”
She went to the coffee pot and poured both of us a cup, then fixed it up just like I liked it. She was stirring sugar into her own cup when I left the eggs on the stove to brown, walking up behind her and sliding my hands around her waist. She sighed and leaned back against me.
“You would’ve preferred something else?” I asked.
“I um…” I could feel her flush where my cheek touched hers, and I smiled at the sensation. “I read something where he…where he woke her up with his head between her legs? Wouldn’t mind that.”
I laughed low in my chest. “Tomorrow, then.”
She shrugged one shoulder. “Or if we nap later.”
She turned her face to mine, biting her lip, and I kissed her slow and deep.
The eggs were burning. I didn’t particularly care.
She made a small sound against my mouth and turned in my arms, her hands coming up to my chest, and I thought distantly about the eggs…and decided they could wait another minute, just another minute—
The smoke alarm went off.
We broke apart. Willa clapped both hands over her mouth, eyes wide, and then started laughing.
I grabbed the pan off the burner.
The eggs were not salvageable.
“I’m sorry,” she managed, still laughing. “That was my fault.”
“It was absolutely your fault.” I shook my head, laughing with her, looking at the eggs. “And unfortunately…that was the last of the food in my house.”
Her laugh slowly faded, staring at the eggs…then she wrinkled her nose, thinking hard.
“Take me out,” she said.
I sobered fast. “You sure?”
She bit her lip, looking at the floor and nodding. “Yeah. I think…I think—if I’m gonna stay, they’ll find out eventually, they might even already know.” She looked back up at me. “I don’t want to live afraid. I wanna be…” She gestured around the room, toward the window. “...out there.”
Something shifted in my chest.
Not the grief thing. Not the careful thing. Something newer than that, something that had only been there a couple weeks and was already taking up more space than I knew what to do with.
"Okay," I said.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." I reached out and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. "Get dressed. I'll take you to the diner."
Her face did the thing—the almost-smile going all the way, no hesitation in it.
She went down the hall.
I stood in the kitchen with the ruined pan in the sink and Nickel looking up at me with her ears forward and thought about what it meant that she'd said it.
I don't want to live afraid. Three weeks ago she'd barely wanted to cross the porch.
Now she was standing in my kitchen in my t-shirt telling me she wanted to be out there.
I thought about Sawyer on the porch steps.
I think you're scared she's going to be good for you. And then you'll have to actually be here. All the way.
I fed Nickel her cheese.