Page 82 of Head Under Water

“Let’s get you inside.”

Will cautiously leads me up the stairs as if, in the process of being afraid, I somehow forgot how to walk too. Still, I let him. He holds his free hand out to my side, guiding me. Once we’re in the apartment, he closes and locks the door behind us.

“We’re okay,” I tell him gently. “Thank you again.”

The worry on his expression makes me more nervous than I was, though just the sight of his face right now seems to be calming something inside me that has never felt calm before.

I don’t fully understand what’s happening.

He checks outside the window toward the street, then moves back to the kitchen. Opening a closet next to the front door, he shoves the bat inside it before turning to face me. “Are you hungry?”

“Always,” I tell him. There’s no teasing tonight. No fighting. I don’t think either of us can handle it.

He moves to the island and flips on the water to wash his hands, then nods toward my usual barstool.

While he cooks, he keeps checking over his shoulder like he thinks I might go somewhere if he doesn’t keep an eye on me.

“I’m sorry we fought,” I say, my voice so low he might not have heard me.

He looks back after a few seconds. “You don’t have to be sorry.”

“No, but I am. It’s the last thing you need right now and…I swear, Will, I don’t know what comes over me when it comes to you.”

He doesn’t look my way, just keeps chopping sweet potatoes.

“It’s like I can’t help but fight with you, and sure, normally, you deserve it. But not right now.”

He turns back to look at me, then the right side of his mouth upturns slightly. “Truce, then? Until Mom’s better.”

I like the way he says that, like he’s certain she will be. I wish I had that sort of confidence.

I bounce my head up. “Truce.”

His eyes dance over my face. “Can I ask you something?”

Normally, I’d say something smart like, You just did, but I bite my tongue. “Sure.”

His face goes still, chest rises and falls with a steady breath, but he doesn’t look away. “Cory. You never gave me an answer.”

“That’s not really a question.”

His mouth twitches. “You just can’t help yourself.”

I watch him. His expression is hard to read—stony and vulnerable all at once. “I guess, technically, I never gave him one either. I didn’t text him back right away, and then everything happened with your mom, and it just…hasn’t felt all that urgent. He’s dealing with bigger things.”

“You don’t think it’s bothering him, not knowing where your head is?” There’s something simmering just under his words, like maybe he’s not talking about Cory at all.

I press my lips together. “I don’t imagine I take up much of Cory’s thoughts, to be honest. How did you know he was going to ask me out, anyway?”

Will looks away, his shoulders tight. “He…asked my permission.”

At that, I pull back. So that’s definitely what the conversation I overheard was about. “Your permission? Why would he need that?”

He shrugs one shoulder, still stiff. “You’d have to ask him.”

I chew my bottom lip, tracing along the veins of the island before I check to see him watching me. He doesn’t look away.

“But you gave it to him?” My voice is quieter.