Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Beckett
Joey
I’m waiting. . .
For. . .?
Joey
Being coy isn’t very becoming, my dear.
Aren’t you tired of these facts yet?
Joey
Never.
I lay on the floor to decompress. I’ve been told it reduces stress and anxiety.
Which, as you know, I have no shortage of.
Joey
Wanna lay on the ground together sometime after work?
Uhh. . .
Joey
NO! Not like that!
“You? Going out on a weekend? Willingly?” my mom asks. “This roommate of yours seems like a good guy if he can get you out of your shell.” Smiling, she strokes Barbara, who is sound asleep in her lap.
One would think it near impossible for a thirty-four-year-old man to blush, yet here I am. Joey has infiltrated every thought that passes through my mind. I keep my focus fixed on the TV, hoping my mom doesn’t notice.
But I can feel her scrutiny, even as I will myself to get lost in yet another Nora Ephron movie. It’s clear my mom can see the deep shade of crimson that’s painting my cheeks. The first droplets of sweat gather at the back of my neck, threatening to betray me further.
My mom gasps. Realization strikes her that Joey isn’t a guy. “Oh. My. God.”
Drawing a breath, I look over at her. “Mom. Don’t, or I’ll put you in a nursing home.”
“I didn’t say anything.” Her lips twitch. “And don’t forget you promised you’d put me in one of those fancy assisted living facilities. The kind with a beach-front view.”
With an exasperated sigh, I pinch the bridge of my nose. “You didn’t have to say it. You’re thinking about it. Stop thinking about it.”
“Is it so bad for a mother to want to see her son happy? Maybe find someone special?”
I rest my head back on the couch, closing my eyes. “Dana. I am happy. Real life is not like these over-the-top rom-coms,” I say, nodding at the TV, where two characters are in the midst of professing their love to one another.
“First, don’t Dana me. Second, you can be such a cynic.”
I open my mouth to speak, but she puts her hand up to stop me.
“I know, I know. You’ve been burned one too many times. People are assholes, that’s a given. But not all people.” My mom gives me a pointed look. “Maybe I’m a hopeless romantic, but you deserve someone kind, understanding, and patient.”
A war rages inside me. The socially anxious part of my mind is preparing itself for every possible outcome when Joey and I are together.
What if I say something stupid? What if I suddenly forget to speak?
What if I need to leave early because I’m uncomfortable and she wants to stay?
What if she decides I’m not worth the hassle? Just like everyone else.
The other part of me, though, remembers that being with Joey in the cottage is effortless.
That I feel safe letting my guard down with her.
When it’s just us, we exist in our own safe bubble, just two overworked and overtired adults trying to navigate life one day at a time, having late-night chats and doing our best to lift one another up.
I don’t know how she does it, but talking to her is as natural as breathing. Maybe it’s the way she leans in when I’m telling a story or how she gives me her undivided attention. Or maybe it’s the way her eyes sparkle with interest whenever she asks me a question.
She’s a special woman, there’s no doubt about that.
And that terrifies me. Yet it gives me hope at the same time.
But only until I remember that we’re both only here temporarily.
Joey seems to bounce around from city to city often and randomly, whereas my moves are methodical, based on my contracts.
I long to ask her out, but in a few short months, we’ll both be off to new places, and I can’t see her free spirit having any interest in being confined to one place for months at a time.
She said herself that she doesn’t like to feel chained to one location.
And I wholeheartedly respect that. She’s choosing to live her life on her own terms, and she’s nothing short of admirable.
My mom clears her throat, the sound pulling me back to the present. “Penny for your pensive thoughts, son?”
“Absolutely not.”
She snorts a laugh. “Eh. Worth a shot.”
By the time I get back to the cottage, it’s dark out.
On my way up the porch stairs, a calm, cool breeze rustles through the trees, causing a chill to run through me.
As I step inside, I place Barbara on the floor.
She scurries away, quickly disappearing from sight to some hidden alcove she must’ve found.
I really hope she’s not hoarding random objects again.
A few years ago, my socks started disappearing one at a time.
About 90 percent of them had gone missing before I discovered Barbara buried in a stolen sock pile underneath my bed.
When I found her, I jolted back a few feet out of fear because this mound of socks had two moving amber eyes and an orange tail.
I drop my keys into the bowl at the entryway table, then shrug off my leather jacket and hang it on the iron coatrack. It’s eerily quiet inside, the only light coming from the small lamp on the entryway table, casting shadows that stretch across the wall.
A glow from the firepit out back catches my attention, and as I pad to the back door, I discover Joey outside, wrapped in a blanket.
On the patio, the cool night air hits my skin, making me wish I’d left my jacket on.
Joey’s mostly shrouded in darkness, though the bright orange flames flickering in front of her beckon me closer.
“Liberosis,” I say, as I settle down next to her in the second Adirondack chair.
Instead of shrieking like she did a few days ago, she only jerks with surprise. “Dude, you need to find a better way to make your presence known.”
“Next time, instead of calling out crossword answers, I’ll have Barbara greet you first.”
Her eyes dart to mine. “On second thought, please continue sneaking up on me. You can even yell ‘boo!’ if you like.”
I shake my head, chuckling. “You have the weirdest relationship with my cat.”
Swiveling, she settles until her whole body faces me.
Her eyes are wide with a mixture of surprise and intensity.
“Yesterday, the whole time I was folding laundry, she stared at me unblinking and unmoving. Except for the occasional ear twitch. You know cats have thirty-two muscles in each ear, right? Freaky.”
Her face is tinged pink from the warmth of the crackling fire. The vibrant orange glow dances across her delicate features, bringing out the kaleidoscope of warm shades in her auburn hair, reminding me of autumn leaves on a sunny day.
Autumn has always been my favorite season.
I give a thoughtful nod. “Unfortunately, she only does that to people whose toes she wants to gnaw on. The ear twitches mean she’s ready to pounce.”
She scoffs, turning her body back toward the fire. “You’re not very funny.” Despite her dismissal, she side-eyes me.
I look right back at her, trying my damndest not to break out in laughter.
She shakes her head, shoulders trembling with a giggle. “So,” she drawls, her tone suddenly laced with hesitation, “how was your evening?”
Sighing, I settle into the chair and tip my head back to look at the dark sky. “You cannot judge me.”
“I’m equal parts intrigued and terrified. Go on,” she says, her eyes burning holes in the side of my face.
My mouth kicks up into a grin. “I was watching a silly rom-com movie with my mom.”
Silence falls upon us, and when she says nothing, I turn toward her.
She’s watching me, eyes round and jaw slack.
“You’re judging me.” I sigh, turning my attention back to the inky sky.
She hums thoughtfully. “A wise man once told me ‘Not judging, just processing.’”
I can’t help the laugh that tumbles out of me when she uses my own expression against me. “You’re a clever girl, Josephine.”
“I aim to please.” She winks.
Blood rushes to my cheeks, making me damn thankful we’re sitting in front of a raging fire.
Propping my ankle over my knee, I clear my throat. “You built this fire?”
“Nope. The man next door offered to start it for me in exchange for pictures of my feet.” She lets out a deep, wistful sigh. “An offer I couldn’t refuse.”
Rendered speechless, my head snaps in her direction. “What? Really? Joey, that’s not—”
Giggling, she wraps the heavy blanket around her tighter. “Loosen up, buttercup. I was being facetious. Contrary to popular belief, my survival skills really aren’t all that bad.”
“Says the girl who lives off fruit snacks, espresso, and expired gummy vitamins.” I huff, my tone deadpan despite the hint of humor beneath my words.
“I’m still alive, aren’t I?”
“When’s the last time you got a full panel of bloodwork done?”
She surveys me, mischief flickering in her expression. Then she leans closer, her voice low and sultry. “You know, when you get all nurse-y on me, a tingle runs up my spine.”
I swallow thickly. My throat constricts as my focus snags on her full lips—that look a little too enticing right now—before darting up to meet her mesmerizing eyes.
I’m not making it out of this cottage alive. Cause of death: the wild woman sitting beside me.
When I finally snap out of it, Joey’s smirking. Of course she is. Because, naturally, my brain forgot how to respond when a woman showed interest in me, especially when I’m already smitten with said woman.
If I’m not careful, Joey will become my undoing.
“Cat got your tongue? Or should I say Barbara got your tongue?” she jokes.
The silence returns, words escaping me. Most people would be uncomfortable, yet Joey takes it as a challenge and keeps pushing forward, embracing it.
And I can’t help but hope that this means she’s taking a chance on me. Daring to see what lies beneath my quiet exterior. Understanding that there are pieces of me that others often overlook because they aren’t patient enough to uncover them.
“You could say that,” I murmur, a rush of nerves making its way through me.