Chapter 25
Chapter twenty-five
Teddy
The movie is over. We eat pumpkin pie to the sound of quiet conversation fueled by Linda, with occasional commentary from Helen and her dad.
They talk about books, gardening, the hospital, and neighborhood gossip.
I’m mostly silent, a rarity for me. Gwen teases that there’s a motor attached to my mouth because it won’t stop running.
Now I have nothing to say because, quite frankly, that kiss short-circuited my brain.
All the memories from last Christmas, the desire that I work so hard to suppress, had risen in me in that moment.
If we hadn’t been with her parents, I most likely would have flung Helen over my shoulder and dragged her to bed like a caveman.
Fuck.
I need to get back under control. I said I wouldn’t do this. Promised Gwen and myself this wouldn’t happen. Phillip’s right to hate me. To not trust me. Hell, I can’t even trust myself.
Helen’s been yawning for the last five minutes, her hand covering her mouth. A creature of routine, she usually goes to bed promptly at ten. It’s well past that now.
“You’re tired, sweetie,” Linda says gently. “Why don’t you go to sleep?”
Helen nods and rises from the table. I stand with her, eager to escape. I need some alone time to process that mistletoe incident. To come to terms with the fact that Helen is someone I can never have.
“I’ll turn in too.” Remembering my manners, I give Linda a light hug and extend my hand to Phillip, who gives it a begrudging shake.
Again his grip is too tight, like he’s picturing squeezing my neck instead.
I clearly haven’t won him over yet, not surprising, considering I tongued his daughter right in front of him like the not-classy asshole I am.
I try for a polite smile and say, “Thanks for the wonderful dinner.”
Linda lets out a weary sigh and pushes up from the table. “You know what? I’m tired, too. Let’s leave the dishes for tomorrow.” There’s a tremor in her hand as she rubs her temple. My chest tightens. It’s been a long day of cooking and hosting for her.
Helen and I turn toward the stairs, almost free, when Linda adds, “Helen, sweetheart, I put fresh sheets on your bed for you and Teddy.”
We freeze and, in unison, slowly turn back to her. Helen’s mouth opens, but no words come out.
I rush to fill the silence. “Oh, that’s not necessary. Thank you for the thought, but I’m fine to sleep in the guest room.”
For once, Phillip and I agree. “Yes,” he says quickly, “maybe that’s a better idea.”
Linda waves him off with a tired huff. “Phillip, don’t be ridiculous. They live together. Sharing a bed won’t hurt anyone.” Her voice has an edge, frustration under the fatigue, like she’s too worn down for an argument.
“Mom, my room’s small, it’ll be—” Helen starts.
“Enough, Helen,” Linda cuts in, soft but firm. “Please. It’s late. The guest room’s full of boxes, and it’s not worth the trouble. Just—don’t make this a big deal.”
Phillip is at her side instantly, steadying her elbow as she wavers. “It’s getting late. We should all just go to bed,” he says, his sigh heavy with resignation.
Helen won’t look at me. She’s probably regretting everything now. The fake dating. The all-too-real kiss. “Okay. Love you guys.”
Her parents chorus their “I love you’s” as we head for the stairs. Earlier, when we were watching the movie, her mom had pointed out that Helen’s bedroom is on the same level as the media room.
No stopping under the mistletoe this time. Helen practically sprints past it.
“I’m going to go brush my teeth,” she says, still not looking at me. She points. “My bedroom is over there.”
I follow the directions to her room, which is eerily similar to the one in her condo. White walls, lavender bedspread, romance books neatly lined up on a shelf. The only difference is that in this room there’s an extra set of shelves full of trophies, ribbons, and medals.
Instantly curious, I go to inspect them.
The bottom shelf is dedicated to ballet.
Blue ribbons for top dancer, best solo performance, best pairs dance.
I have an irrational flash of jealousy, picturing some guy with his hands on her waist, lifting her, spinning her around with grace that I’ll never possess.
The second and third shelf are for academic trophies. I take my time, reading each golden plaque carefully. Helen Chu, academic decathlon state champion. Helen Chu, mathlete finalist. Helen Chu, first place innovation fair.
I try to swallow, but there’s a lump in my throat.
I have trophies too, mostly participation trophies.
The top shelf has framed diplomas. College, graduated summa cum laude. Not sure what that means, but it sounds impressive. Medical school, graduated with highest honors. That one is more self-explanatory.
The differences between us seemed small back at her condo, but here in her childhood room they become glaringly obvious. She’s accomplished so much, and I’ve done…nothing. Nothing important anyway.
With a deep sigh, I grab the duffle bag that Linda thoughtfully brought down.
Back at home, I sleep in my boxers, but I wisely packed flannel pajama bottoms for this trip.
I get them out and, with a quick glance at the door to make sure Helen’s not there, I undress and change into the pants, leaving my shirt off.
My bruises have mostly healed but are still tender enough that I can’t tolerate the feeling of a shirt while I sleep.
I’m pulling the drawstring of the pants tight when Helen walks back into the room.
She skids to a stop, making a strangled sound in the back of her throat as her eyes move over my bare skin.
I’m equally stunned because she’s changed into pajamas as well.
This is different from the tank top and shorts she wears back at the condo.
This time she’s in a nightgown so short it skims her mid-thigh.
The thing is made of some light pink gauzy material that sways around her body like it wants to embrace her as much as I do.
Shit.
She’s never looked so sexy, so tempting, something I want to devour. But I did that earlier, with the kiss, and she’s barely talked to me since.
Hands to yourself, Teddy.
I run to the bathroom and brush my teeth, then I’m back.
I climb into bed and haul my bad leg up, heaving a sigh when it finally hits the mattress.
By the end of the day, it feels like I’ve been dragging a hundred pounds behind me, so getting horizontal and taking the weight off is pure relief.
A few tugs pull the sheets up over my chest, and I’m finally settled.
Without looking at her, I grab my phone and start scrolling.
Helen’s already in bed beside me, a romance novel in her hand.
She stays on her back, spine straight, the book balanced loosely in one hand while the other smooths a page that doesn’t need smoothing.
Her fingers linger there, like the motion’s more about keeping busy than fixing anything.
Then she flips through pages too quick to actually be reading.
The silence between us stretches, thick and unyielding, until her eyes finally slide my way.
“What’re you looking at?” she asks, her voice scratchier than usual.
“Figuring out how to apply to the Coast Guard so your dad doesn’t think I’m a complete moron.” I don’t know why I care so much about impressing him. It’s futile, but that won’t stop me from trying.
“Sorry about him.” Sheets rustle as she rolls over to face me. Her book falls shut between us. “He’s always been a little overbearing, but it’s gotten worse since my mom got sick. Plus, he’s never been great with people. I warned you, remember? I told you about the waiter and the candle?”
Now that I’ve met the man, that story makes way more sense. “I remember.” I bring the phone up to my eyes, peering at the tiny screen.
Helen rises on her elbow and leans closer to look too.
She smells minty, like toothpaste, and at the same time like the flowers that line her balcony back in Santa Monica.
I’m not sure where the floral smell comes from.
Her shampoo? Her body wash? Her skin? So many things about her remain a mystery.
For a brief minute, I visualize sliding my nose and then my mouth over her smooth skin until I locate the source of that delicious scent.
“What’d you find out?” Her question snaps me out of my fantasy.
“Huh?” I blink, befuddled.
“About the Coast Guard?” She cocks her head, inquisitive. “Is that something you even want to do or something you made up for my dad? I’ve never heard you mention it before.”
You used to talk about saving people.
“Honestly?” I shrug, feeling weirdly exposed. “I don’t know. I said it spur of the moment, to get him off my back, but since then…I can’t stop thinking about it.”
For the first time since our kiss, Helen meets my eyes. “I think it’s perfect for you.”
“Really?” I blink, surprised by her confidence. “How so?”
“You get to be out in the ocean every day, which you love. You get to be useful, which I know you like because you light up when you’re helping me learn to be more social or to ride a surfboard.
You’d get to be active, like when you’re surfing or working behind the bar, which totally suits you.
I can’t see you as a sit-all-day-at-a-desk, cubicle type of guy. ” She stops, sucks in a deep breath.
I stare, speechless because…wow. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt so seen.
“Yeah,” I say after a long beat. “That’s kind of what I was thinking too, but you explained it better than I ever could.”
She nods once. “I get you.”
Crap. She totally does.
That’s both exhilarating and terrifying.
“So?” Impatient, she grabs my phone out of my hand and moves onto her back to read what I’ve pulled up. Knees bent and arms extended. Her hair spills over the pillow in silky waves. I want to touch it, to wrap it around my fist, so badly that my fingers twitch, but I don’t move.