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Chapter 11
Brooke
I stare at the wall opposite the bed in Kieran's guest room. The sage wallpaper has a nice, curvy texture, casting soft shadows thanks to the first rays of sunlight trickling through the window and casting the room in a light orange glow.
It's a nice bed. Comfortable. The pillow is fluffy, but not too soft; the blanket a nice weight.
Still, I barely slept. My thoughts raced at a thousand miles an hour, every construction site of my life screaming at me at the same time, in the same volume, demanding priority.
Mr. Muffin, Bean, and Luna climbed out of their transport boxes by 2 a.m. and explored the room. Then they curled up right beside my legs and fell asleep within minutes. Their soft breaths finally lulled me in and let me drift off for a few short hours, too.
It's no use lying here and staring at the admittedly nice wallpaper. I might as well get up.
With a sigh, I gently push the way-too-comfortable cover off me and climb out of bed, careful to not wake the cats. Mr. Muffin blinks one eye open and watches me sneak out of the room on my tiptoes, like a thief in a children’s cartoon.
The past twenty-four hours have been messing with my head.
A part of me is ready to give up. To bury my head in the sand, give up my sanctuary dream and find another job at the closest library. Make life easy for once.
Then I look at the animals. Their wide, trusting eyes. The way they lean into my hand, full of trust, even though some of them have experienced the worst of humanity.
If I don't fight for them, who will?
Maybe I should play the lottery and pray to the universe for a multi-million jackpot so I can rescue all the animals I want and board them on a property, without an existential crisis to preface.
One can dream. But for now, here I am, existential crisis and all.
I pull on some of my fluffy socks and softly close the door to Kieran’s guest room behind me. Slowly, I turn to his dark living room. His house is completely dark, aside from the soft glow of a very early sunrise. And silent. So silent.
Another thing messing with my head.
Kieran.
All those years, I thought he cheated on Evan and slept around on him when he was at university.
To be fair, my brother absolutely presented it this way. I'm not exactly eager to listen to stories about him sleeping around either, but by the time Kieran moved here, Evan should have given me the full context. Kieran’s flirty demeanor and the way he deflects from the truth weren’t exactly helpful either.
Would knowing the truth have changed anything? I’m not sure I’m too eager to think about it, especially considering the way I all but drooled over him the first time we met, before I learned his name.
Sue me. He’s hot. And he knows it.
I definitely would have welcomed him to the area warmer than I did. I’m sure he could have used some more friends here.
He certainly has enough space to host an army of friends.
This house is more of a mansion. It’s got a huge window front facing the beautiful lake and is located on a vast property surrounded by forest. While I can see two of his neighbors’ houses from the living room window, they are easily a five-minute walk away from his home.
A part of me was expecting a typical bachelor pad. Clothes flung around, leftover pizza boxes on the kitchen counter, a bunch of empty beer bottles, and a layer of dust thicker than my hand on his furniture.
Once again, he proved me wrong. He does it annoyingly often, without even trying, and it’s not a good feeling.
His house is sleek and modern mixed with vintage. Nice handcrafted shelves and displays mixed with simple, modern furniture. He also has a nice, big kitchen. And a coffee machine that’s way too complicated for me to use without supervision.
I wonder if, even with practice, I could get the machine running before having had my first coffee. Maybe he’d have to get up to make it for me. Maybe he wouldn’t be wearing a shirt.
Nope. Not going there.
We’re barely in a ‘tolerate each other’ stage. This is so far from where I should let my thoughts wander.
