Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
FREYA
The doorbell rings just as I’m draining a pot of pasta.
“Shit.” I hiss as I narrowly avoid splashing myself. I put everything down and pull my robe tighter over the pajamas I changed into as soon as I got home. Padding over to the door, I spare a quick glance at the clock in the hall. Who’s at my apartment at eight thirty on a Thursday night?
When I reach the front entrance, I check through the peephole. I frown against the wood. On the other side there’s a slightly disheveled-looking Oscar, holding a large cardboard box.
What is he doing here? It’s been nine days since our date, and outside of the odd text conversation, he’s been too busy with work to catch up in person.
It was a little awkward at first, at least on my end, my mind still reeling from the almost kiss. But I can’t have made a total fool of myself, not when he’s been chatting to me in his easy way.
I just couldn’t break out of the spiral I was in.
It felt too familiar, too much like all the times Aaron kissed me when I didn’t want him to, when he would talk me into things, convincing me that they were just “normal” and playing on my insecurities to get what he wanted.
In my mind I know that this situation isn’t the same, that Oscar’s nothing like him.
I just can’t quite get my nervous system to catch up.
I fumble with the chain, butterflies forming at the thought of having him in my space. As I get the door open, I can see that he’s breathing heavier and that his hair’s mussed, like he’s been running his hands through it.
“Freya.” His face goes soft when he says it and all those butterflies start rioting in my belly. He’s looking at me like he’d be happy just standing here doing that for the rest of the night.
“Hi,” I breathe out, not sure what else to say.
We stand in silence, the soft breeze lapping around my bare ankles as I watch a loose strand of his hair flop onto his forehead.
A scratching sound comes from the box he’s holding and my focus snaps down to it. He starts awkwardly shifting around, his arms flexing as they try to compensate for whatever’s moving inside the box.
“Are you allowed pets in your apartment?” he asks tentatively.
“What?”
“I figured you were. I know Ms. Roberts down the hall has like, fifteen guinea pigs.”
“How would you know that?” I don’t know why I’m asking, not in a town like Cedar Creek.
He shrugs. “Fitted her smoke alarm.”
“Oscar, what’s going on?”
“Shit, yeah, sorry.” He braces the box against the railing, one hand keeping it balanced as the other scrubs along his jaw. “I hate to show up like this, but it’s kind of an emergency.”
“What’s happening?” I step forward, looking over him like I’ll find a clue.
“Is there any chance you could take Harvey for a few days, maybe a week?”
“Why? Where are you going?”
“Wildfire callout, up in the Rockies.”
“Oh my God.” I cross my arms over my chest, my thumb running soothing circles over the inside of my elbow. I see Oscar notice, but I can’t stop myself.
“It doesn’t sound like it’s too bad just yet, but they’re calling in some of the reserves just in case.”
“And that’s you?”
“Yeah, me and a bunch of the others. We don’t get the call often, but when we do we gotta go.
” He picks up the box again, looking at me hopefully.
“I’m really sorry to dump him on you. My mom usually takes him, but she’s out of town.
I could leave him with Joni but she’s already got Birdie to contend with, and—”
“Hey, it’s fine.” I step forward, reaching out to squeeze his elbow.
“I mean, it’s probably fine. I’ve never actually had a pet before.
” I pick up one corner of the lid and peer inside, taking in the long body and big black eyes staring at me.
This is okay, I can handle this. He’s just a bunny, how much trouble could he possibly be?
“I’ve got all his stuff, and he’s pretty low maintenance once he’s settled.”
I look behind him and see the bed of his truck filled with all kinds of rabbit housing.
Will that even fit in my living room? As we enter my apartment I cringe at the mess I’ve let pile up.
Errant balls of yarn decorate the floor along with about fifteen mugs littering every available surface.
I frantically try to scoop things back into the basket, but Oscar doesn’t seem to notice.
I clear a space on the couch and he sets down the box.
“I’m gonna go grab the rest. You are seriously saving my ass, Freya.”
“Do you need a hand?’
“No, I got it.”
I listen to Oscar’s footsteps as he descends the metal stairs.
Opening the box, I take in Harvey, big eyes blinking up at me.
He somehow seems even bigger than he looked in the pictures, with fur the color of milky tea and long ears that fall against the straw of his temporary accommodation. I blow out a long breath.
Yeah, this is fine. A totally normal post-first-date activity. Nothing to panic about. Just Oscar entrusting me with his son. Harvey sniffs the air, and it almost looks like he’s frowning, nose twitching as if in disapproval.
I frown back, not sure how I’ve managed to get on the wrong foot with a bunny. “If you chew through any of my sweaters, I’m never speaking to your daddy again.”
“Unless you’re knitting using printer cables, you should be fine.”
I whirl around on a gasp. How did he get up the stairs so quietly? Oscar leans against the doorway holding a wooden hutch with a wire front, all kinds of accessories mounted to the metal.
“He’s pretty easy,” he says, putting the hutch down in the corner. He takes off the various tubs he stacked on top and starts arranging them neatly on the floor. “Feed him each day, keep the water topped up. I shouldn’t be gone longer than a week but if I am, the cage will need cleaning.”
“Does he need a garden? I don’t have a garden.”
“He’s fine, he’ll like it if you left him roam around a bit each day, though.”
“He’s not going to pee on my carpets or anything?”
“Not unless he’s pissed at you.”
I look over to see if he’s joking, but his face is dead serious.
A flutter of unease starts in my stomach.
I don’t know if this is a good idea. What if he gets out?
Or eats something he’s not supposed to and dies?
Things between us feel so new, so tenuous, I don’t want this to be the thing that ruins it.
“I wrote everything down,” he says a little sheepishly, pulling a wrinkled slip of paper from his back pocket.
“You were pretty confident I’d take him, huh?”
“I was prepared to beg.” His voice is low, a little husky in a way that has heat licking up my spine. Our eyes lock and the sudden image of Oscar on his knees flutters through my mind.
He steps into my space, slowly enough that I have time to move away, but I find myself swaying closer.
I reach up, take a hold of his collar, pulling him towards me with a gentle tug.
I try not to let myself overthink it. I’m just feeling.
I wait for the nerves, for the anxiety to rise, but nothing comes.
It’s just him and me. I watch him closely, studying the lines in his face as he dips close and presses a kiss to my temple.
I feel dizzy from it, but not in a bad way. I can’t stop myself from swaying closer, leaning into his touch. I have to brace a hand on his chest so that I don’t melt onto the floor.
“Do you know how long you’ll be gone?” I ask, breathless as Oscar continues to nuzzle my hairline, his exhales ghosting against my ear.
“You going to miss me, Malcolm?”
“Yes.” The word falls from my lips before I can stop it.
“Good.” I feel his smile against my skin. “Because I’m going to miss the hell out of you.”
“You’ll be careful, right?” My fingers flex of their own accord, fisting into his shirt. The reality of where he’s going has only just hit me. I want to keep him here, to hold him tight enough that he stays safe in my tiny apartment with his oversized rabbit and more yarn than anybody should own.
“I always am.” He pulls back, taking my face in his hands. His fingertips are rough where they stroke over my cheekbones, a reminder that he’s trained for this. “I’ll try to keep in touch but I don’t know what cell service will be like, or if I’ll have time.”
“Don’t worry about me, we’ll be fine over here.” I force a small smile. “Just look after yourself.”
“I’ll do my best.” Oscar’s words are soft, murmured against my forehead as he lays a long kiss there.
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to pour all of my reassurances through that point of contact as I wrap my arms around him, pressing him close to me.
Oscar responds in kind, his arms surrounding me in his warmth as he holds us together. “I’ll be fine,” he whispers.
“I know.” I try not to let my voice crack.
This is night and day from the last time we were together, and I thank anyone who’s listening that my brain is finally letting me have this.
Absent are the memories, the panic. Oscar must feel it in the way I’m responding to him because he doesn’t pull back.
He keeps pushing in that gentle way that tells me he’ll back off with a single word.
I pull back an inch, tipping my face up a fraction.
I want him to kiss me. Even though my heart’s pounding out of my chest, and I’m hoping he can’t feel how sweaty my palms are against his back, I want this.
I feel ready this time, but something holds me back from closing the space.
That tiny flutter of fear makes itself known, but it’s fear of rejection.
In the end, I chicken out. I tuck my face into his neck and give him one last hug. Oscar responds in kind, holding me against him like we’re the last two people left in the world.
His long sigh causes a few strands to fall loose across my forehead and he tucks them securely behind my ear as he releases me. “I’ve got to get going,” he says, sounding a little regretful.
“Okay,” I whisper, sad that the moment’s over.
“Take care of my boy.”
“I will.”
With one last press of his lips to my temple, Oscar turns and heads outside, closing the door securely behind him. I stand in the sudden silence, trying to catch my breath. He was here all of ten minutes, but it feels like he’s tipped me off-axis.
Wandering over to the box, I look down at Harvey, feeling a thread of hesitation as I try to work out what to do with him. I crouch down, breathing in the woody scent of the sawdust. “I really hope you like me, buddy. Because I’m kind of crazy about your dad.”
It still scares me, thinking about how much I like Oscar.
I’m not used to letting people in, but I kind of get the sense that maybe he isn’t either.
It’s not that I don’t trust him, the problem is that I don’t trust myself.
My own judgment has steered me so wrong in the past that it’s hard to believe I could take a risk like that again.
But even though I’m scared, Oscar makes me want to be brave.
The clanging of heavy footsteps snaps me out of my thoughts as they approach my front door.
They sound hurried, like someone running up the metal stairs.
There’s a pause before three soft knocks sound out.
I open the door to a wide-eyed Oscar. Looking past him, I see his car askew in the lot, door open as if he got halfway through pulling out before he stopped and ran back here.
Before I can say anything, he’s stepping close, one hand sliding past my hair to cup the back of my neck and the other feathering against my cheek. Our chests meet as he draws me close, his toes edging over the threshold.
“We kinda screwed that up, didn’t we?” he growls out. His nose bumps against mine, a soft question. I close the distance a fraction, it’s a tiny movement, but he doesn’t miss it. His lips are on mine, warm and firm, but not insistent. The contact sends sparks down my back, like a static shock.
He’s kissing me.
Holy shit.
I’m letting him kiss me and it’s everything I’ve not been brave enough to want.
I can practically feel my heart slowing down, any panic bleeding out of me until it’s a reassuring thump in my chest. His tongue strokes against my bottom lip until I open for him, and I slip my fingers through his soft strands.
I can feel his eyelashes against my face as we move together. It’s slightly out of sync, a little unpracticed, but something about it feels like sitting in front of a fire in a snowstorm, like it’s the place I was always supposed to be.
What begins with a kind of desperation becomes slow and languid, soft pecks against my lips and the corners of my mouth.
When we finally come up for air, it’s with a final lingering kiss that has my toes curling against the carpet.
Oscar pulls back and his hands fall slack at his sides, a dazed look on his face.
“Should have done that earlier,” he says with a sly smile. I can’t come up with a single word in reply, so I just nod, dumbstruck. “I’ll see you soon.”
With a quick squeeze of the hand I have pressed against my mouth, he’s gone.