Chapter 3
Tanner
Ineed to get out of here. I need to finish my beer, and take Roo, and head home, and convince myself this is fucking real.
My best fucking friend.
I’ve always been dumb—the intellectually challenged kind—but I’m being slower than normal tonight. And while Roo jokes around with our friends and fills us in on Australia and the places he’s traveled to, I keep sneaking glances at him, checking he hasn’t disappeared.
And I can’t stop smiling. Not for a minute.
He’s so different. There’s the deep voice I already knew about, but the short beard, the way he’s filled out a little, his longer brown hair, and how he seems a little nervous around me … So different.
Things have always been easy, but tonight he feels hesitant, almost like I’m an old acquaintance instead of the closest person in the world to him.
I reassure myself that as soon as we get out of here, we’ll be able to talk properly.
To fall into our old comfort with each other and discuss any little thing on our minds.
Because maybe he’s feeling uncomfortable being so close and familiar around our friends, but I know he won’t hold back when we’re alone.
He lets out a wide yawn he tries unsuccessfully to stifle behind his hand. That’s my cue.
“We’re going to head out, guys.” I nudge Roo with my knee so he gets the message, and I collect his balloons from the middle of the table as I slide out after him.
The bar is kinda loud for a Sunday, so thank God I’m not working security tonight, or I’d be stuck in this place for another few hours. “Late shift here last night. I’m beat.”
“Are you staying or going, Royce?” Leon asks.
“Going. Tanner’s my ride, and I’m still pretty jet-lagged.” He looks it. Even under the complete map of freckles, which covers his entire body, the dark circles below his hazel eyes stand out.
“We’ll call you to meet up this week,” Laura says, speaking for Rafe like always. Roo agrees, and once the others wind up their goodbyes, we finally escape.
“Fuck, it’s cold as balls out here,” Roo complains when we step outside.
My automatic reaction is to wrap my arm around him and pull him close—it’s what I would have done before he left—but I suddenly don’t know how to act.
Instead, I watch while he cups his freckled hands to his mouth and breathes into them. “Where’s your car?”
“Just over there.” I point toward my white truck. “Your aunt find the place okay?”
His stare immediately drops to the ground. “I, ah, took a bus instead.”
“Roo.”
“It’s fine.”
“I said I could pick you up.”
His lips pull up on one side. “And I said you didn’t have to. I’m a big boy now, Tanner.”
His voice is dry the way it usually goes when people start to make a fuss over what he’s capable of.
But my concern isn’t misplaced. I know his seizures have lessened since his surgery, but thinking of him having one on a bus, while he was all alone …
My protective instincts kick up a notch, and I have to work to force them back down again.
It’s like I have two left hands when I try to open my truck door and stuff the balloons on the floor of the passenger seat, before starting the engine.
Roo climbs in beside me. I’m thrumming with energy and the type of nerves where you feel like you’ve missed a step and are about to plummet to the ground.
It’s a weird reaction to have around Roo because everything has always been instinctive, but I guess I’ll need to do a little more thinking and a little less autopilot around him for a while.
My apartment is only a few blocks away, but our ride back is so quiet, it makes it feel longer.
When I pull into the small, aged parking lot, Roo throws me a weak smile and jumps out.
I glance in the mirror and watch him grab his luggage from the truck bed, itching with the need to go help him.
Instead, I take a deep breath, grab the balloons, and force myself to move again.
We’re quiet as I lead the way to the complex, and we take the elevator to the fourth floor. He’s slumped a little against the wall, and his shoulders are so droopy, I can almost feel his exhaustion.
“Want me to take that?” I ask, pointing at his large suitcase.
“Sure.” He lifts the carry-on from the top, but I take that from him too. His lips quirk, and I wait for the sardonic response. It doesn’t come. “Thanks.”
“What are friends for?” Even to me, my words sound forced. I wish we could bypass this awkwardness and go back to being Tanner-and-Roo.
I made sure to tidy the apartment earlier, and Jules did a thorough cleanup of her old room before she left, but when I unlock the door and step aside to let him past, I’m anxious about what he’ll think.
It’s not big-city living by any stretch of the imagination, but it’s clean, and the kitchen has been recently updated.
He looks around the living room. “This is cool.” Even if he’s only being polite, it makes me smile.
“Yeah, I mean, it’s only temporary. But I like it.”
“I was expecting more of a bachelor pad.”
“Is that what you had in Sydney?”
He laughs. “I couldn’t afford to live in Sydney. I was way, way out of the city, and even then all I could afford was a tiny one-bedroom that smelled like cheese.”
“Cheese?”
He shrugs. “No clue why.”
I chuckle as I prop his luggage against the couch.
There’s a beat of silence before he points down the hall. “Which one is my room?”
“First on the left.” I trail after him, rubbing at the back of my neck, which is starting to heat up. “Sorry, I haven’t had a chance to grab you any furniture. I had overnights at the firehouse on Wednesday and Thursday, then worked security at the bar Friday and Saturday.”
He waves a hand in my direction as he opens the door and walks inside. “Don’t worry about tha—wow. This is massive. You could fit three of my bedrooms in here.”
I glance through the door. From what I can tell, the room hasn’t changed since I last saw it. “It’s standard size.”
“Maybe standard Sunbury size.” He rubs his eyes, then slides his hands roughly over his cheeks. “So much room for activities.”
“What kind of—” I cut off as my eyes widen. We’re in a bedroom. I know what kind of activities happen in a bedroom. But … well, I guess I tend to stick to the bed.
He smirks, looking at me directly for the first time since we entered the apartment. “It’s an expression. Get your filthy mind out of my bedroom.”
“You said it,” I splutter.
“I was thinking more like yoga or tai-chi.”
“You do either of those things?”
“Well, no. But in a room this size, the possibilities are endless. I could take up meditation, learn an instrument, fuck against the wall …”
I snort out a laugh. “Why anyone would prefer a big city is beyond me.”
“Lots more to do.”
“Ah, but without wall-fucking, is it worth the trade-off?” I cross my arms and lean into the doorframe, expecting to hear his snigger again. But Roo stays quiet and shoots me this real weird look.
He shakes his head. “So which is your room?”
Abrupt subject change, huh? I’m not sure whether to push—clearly, something’s going on with him that I don’t know about—but I figure he’s tired, and this is all pretty new, so I need to give it time.
“Down here.” My room is right at the end.
The door is already open because I’m shit at remembering to close it, which used to drive Jules up the wall when I’d have someone stay over.
It’s tidy-ish. The bed isn’t made, but there are no clothes on the floor, and I remembered to tuck my lube and tissues away in the drawer.
Since my last girlfriend broke up with me, I haven’t had the energy to go out and find another one.
“Far out, Tanner.” He laughs. “If I could have imagined a bedroom for you, this would have been exactly it.” I watch as he crosses the space, looking as natural here as he ever did in my bedroom growing up.
He drops onto the side of the bed and picks up my teddy that I only just fucking now realize I probably should have hidden too.
“I can’t believe you still have this guy. ”
“Yeah, well …” I grunt, not knowing how to finish that sentence.
He looks up at me from under dark eyelashes, a small smile playing at his lips. “It’s cute.”
“If you tell anyone, you’re dead to me.”
“I remember,” he sings, stroking the bear’s head. “I’ve never told a soul. Best friend’s honor.”
I don’t know how to respond to that. Shoving him back on the bed by his face and roughhousing was always my go-to when my brain went blank, but now that reaction seems a little strange.
“So …” He looks around the room. “I might take a shower and pass out.”
“Yeah, I figured you’re tired.”
“Of course you did.”
Blank. Again.
“Well …” When I hadn’t had time to pick up so much as an air mattress, I’d figured it wouldn’t be a problem. We’ve shared a bed so many times, I assumed that’s what would happen. What I didn’t take into account was that we’re physically bigger now, and beds are still made the same size.
It’s like he can read my mind. Roo jumps up quickly and drops the bear back on my bed. “I’ll take the couch. Want to come shopping with me tomorrow for a few things?”
I almost tell him to screw the couch idea. To stay here and not let this be weird. “Of course. Blankets are in the hall closet. Want me to—”
“I got it. Thanks.” He moves closer, making to leave the room. I shift away from the doorframe so he can pass, but he hovers right inside my personal space. Something that’s never existed between us before. My body crackles with awareness of him being so close.
His hazel eyes look brown without the light shining on them, and his normally relaxed face looks as tense as the day he told me he was leaving. “I, umm …” He takes a deep breath. “It’s weird to be back.”
“Yeah,” I murmur. “I bet.” I don’t want to ask the question, but I can’t stop it falling from my lips. “Are you here for good this time?” My shoulders square as I prepare myself for the answer, unable to comprehend why anyone would want to leave.
“I … I told you this was only a visit.”
I swallow roughly. “I’m glad you’re here anyway.”
“Me too.”
I nod jerkily, and Roo leaves.
Even having him a room away is too much right now. All I can think of is the boy I knew, the one who was everything I needed during high school. I lost him once, and I’ll do anything I can so it doesn’t happen again.
But even as I change and crawl into bed, I’m on high alert for any sign of his continued existence in my space.
The shower cutting on and off, the slight squeak of the bathroom door, the groan of the floorboard when he passes the kitchen.
I hear the way the leather gives when he finally settles down, the rustle as he pulls a blanket over himself.
And even though the thought has circulated through my mind a hundred times tonight, I’m still struggling to believe he’s here.
Roo is back.
He’s living with me.
And he’s a complete and total stranger.