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Fucking depression.
“By the way,” I said, thinking about the unhoused man who’d greeted him. “Have you ever done that? Given the others a haircut?”
His eyes flashed to mine. “No. You were the first since…”
“Just curious.” I held open the door.
He was distracted the entire way up the elevator, so maybe I shouldn’t have brought it up.
By the time we got inside, I was wiped out, but I wanted to stay present after such an enjoyable morning, so instead of escaping to my room, I sank down on the couch. Soon enough, though, I fought to keep my eyes open.
“Did you use up all your spoons?”
I offered a tired smile. “Yeah.”
“I like that concept.”
I nodded. “Me too. It’s useful.”
He sank down beside me while Oscar went to his bowl of water and drank heartily.
“I felt that way surviving on the streets. By nightfall, I was tired down to my bones.”
“Exactly.” God, it felt good that he understood me. “So maybe I’ll just veg out or read for a little while.”
Lachlan’s eyes sprang to my bookshelf. “I can’t believe I never asked what happened to the ruined book.”
“It’s still there.” I motioned to the lowest shelf. “We ordered a new copy for the library.”
Lachlan stood and went to retrieve the book. Its pages were still warped, but they weren’t stuck together anymore. I could’ve tossed it, but it felt like a reminder of him. Maybe I’d even convince him to keep it when he decided it was time to go.
That thought sat heavy in my stomach, and as he padded back over with the book, I blurted, “Will you read to me?”
“Are you…serious?” A flush crawled over his face, his voice soft and timid.
“Only if you want to. No pressure.”
I breathed out and shut my eyes, partly so he wouldn’t feel put on the spot.
But then he cleared his throat and began reading, “‘Is your ladyship at home this afternoon?’” and a thrill shot through me.
I sank into the rise and fall of his timbre, and after a few minutes had gone by and he’d paused to catch his breath, I said, “Your voice might end up on my comfort list.”
“That might be a first for me.” I could hear the wonder in his voice.
“Well, it’s true.” I opened an eye. “What’s that quote you like so much from this book?”
“Hold on, I know the exact page.”
I watched as he flipped through it with enthusiasm, my stomach performing swooping dive bombs.
“Here it is.” He cleared his throat. “‘We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.’”
“That’s how I feel right in this moment,” I murmured as my eyes shut, exhaustion falling over me. “Like I’m still in the gray, but I’m looking at the stars.”
“Foster.” His voice was shy again, and I pictured the blush on the apples of his cheeks as I drifted off.
23
LACHLAN
I set the book down when it was obvious Foster had fallen asleep.
“Like I’m still in the gray, but I’m looking at the stars.”
The man had nearly rendered me speechless, but I would’ve read to him for hours if he’d asked me to.
After placing the throw over him, I padded to the kitchen to pour a glass of water for my parched throat, and saw the grocery list he’d left on the counter. It would help him out if I shopped for those things while he napped.
I deliberated about it some more as I washed the glass and set it to dry on the rack. Decision made, I wrote him a note and then pocketed the list and the cash he kept in the drawer in case I needed anything. It felt strange using it, but that was part of our deal. The idea that he trusted me that much was not lost on me.
I headed to my room, where I lifted my backpack and absently stuffed it with supplies, an idea forming in my head. It might not come to fruition, but I entertained it anyway.
“Good boy,” I said to Oscar at the door. “Keep Foster company until I get back.”
I headed toward the grocery store on Euclid Avenue, actively looking for the man we’d seen earlier with the change bowl. I was so distracted that I walked past the entrance. Instead of doubling back, I continued on to the Main Avenue Bridge. The man in question was seated on a large rock, eating a bagel out of a paper wrapper, the empty bowl at his feet.
“Were you serious about what you said earlier?” I asked him. “About a haircut?”
His eyebrows rose as he studied me. “Definitely. Why?”
“I used to be a hairstylist.” My grip tightened on my bag. “I’ve got my shears with me, and I’m more than happy to give you a cut. I brought water bottles, a towel, and shampoo as well.”
