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“You have good reason to be. If you want to cry or yell or rant or anything, you can. You don’t have to hold back in front of me.”
The pressure behind my eyes grows stronger, the emotion I was suppressing before at the forefront again. “I’m sorry. You didn’t sign up for this.”
I look over at him, the genuine concern on his face unraveling the tightly wound knot within me.
“You’re acting like you’re a burden,” he murmurs. “But you’re not. Not at all.”
A whimper escapes me, scaring Boots off. Doesn’t he realize that’s all I’ve ever been? Through every foster family I lived with, that was always clear.
I wipe under my eyes and stand, shaking off this emotion. I need to get myself under control. “Do you have a pen and paper? I’ll make a quick list of what I need next door.”
He nods after a moment and points to the fridge where a magnetic notepad hangs on the front, a mini pen on a string attached.
I fill it out with a few essentials and hand it to him, unsure what to do with myself once he leaves. There are no knickknacks in the apartment to inspect, no bookcases, no photos, no art to distract myself with. If he hadn’t told me he moved in four and a half years ago, I would have thought it was last month.
Pulling my phone out, I text my boss to tell her I’m coming in late tomorrow. There’s no way I’ll make it in time to open the diner. How will I even sleep tonight?
I’ll have to contact the apartment complex’s management in the morning to let them know about the door, too. Hopefully, they fix things on weekends.
Stopping mid-pace as Austin returns, I give him a grateful smile as he hands me a bag loaded with my belongings.
“I wasn’t sure about some of it, so I grabbed everything.”
“Thank you. This is perfect.”
“Bathroom is right there,” he says, pointing to my left. “Well, you know. It’s a mirror of your place.”
I nod, excusing myself to change, and set my bag on the closed toilet seat lid, rummaging through it for what I need. He was serious when he said he grabbed everything.
Setting my stuff on the counter, I take a moment to look over his things, all lined up neatly to the right of the sink. Toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, hairbrush. Is that all he uses?
I glance toward the locked door, wondering if he can hear me in here, and quietly open the cabinet drawer, finding a lot of odds and ends. Floss, scissors, bandages—even a hair tie. Does he ever wear his hair up? Maybe in the summer when it’s hotter? I only saw him do it that time at the gym.
I shut the drawer, guilt running through me at my invasion of his privacy, but I’m not finished yet. I uncap his deodorant, wondering if—yep, that’s what makes him smell so good. I inhale the deliciously masculine scent, not caring that I’m being a total weirdo. I would only ever do this in private.
The cap slips from my fingers, bouncing loudly on the linoleum floor, and I grab it as quickly as I can, stuffing it back on. Shit. He can’t tell what that was from out there, right?
I hurry and get ready for bed, hoping the familiarity of routine will calm my nerves, but it only serves to remind me that I’m doing this in the wrong place. That I can’t be in my own home right now. That my front door is too busted to lock, that I’m not safe in there.
I grip the edge of the counter, taking deep breaths until I’m steady enough to finish up.
Heading back out, I find the living room empty, but there’s noise coming from the bedroom.
“Austin?”
“Yeah, in here,” he calls out. I guess it’s okay to go in, then.
He’s changing the sheets on his bed, tucking a faded blue fitted sheet under the corners of the queen-sized mattress. “Thought you’d want fresh sheets,” he says off-handedly.
Tears pinprick my eyes at the simple gesture. That he’d offer me his bed to begin with. That he’d do something to make me feel more welcome when he’s already done so much.
“Let me help you.”
I unfold the top sheet and spread it wide over the mattress, letting him tuck in the ends.
He grabs one of the pillows and a folded blanket. “I’ll take the couch.”
I stare at the neatly made bed, the thought of trying to sleep here alone suddenly unbearable. “Will you stay with me?” I blurt out, turning to him.
