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She smiles at me. “I can handle soup, Carter.”
I close my eyes. I don’t have the energy to argue. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
***
“I know. I’m sorry.”
I wake to Brooklyn’s voice in the kitchen. It’s dark outside. I can’t believe she’s still here.
“I’ll make it up to you,” Brooklyn says. “Drew, you know that’s not true.”
Who is Drew? None of my business. But who is Drew? I strain to hear.
“Dinner on Friday, okay?” Brooklyn giggles. “Yes, I will make you pancakes on Saturday.”
I guess that answers a few things about Drew.
“I’ll call you tomorrow when I get home.”
I hear Brooklyn’s footsteps approaching and force myself to sit up.
“Oh, no. Did I wake you?” she asks.
“No. I’m sorry if I ruined your plans.” I probably shouldn’t have said that. I’m not sure why I said it.
“You didn’t ruin anything,” Brooklyn assures me. “It’s just a dinner date.”
I nod. Clearly, it is more than just a dinner date. I have no right to feel jealous. At all. It doesn’t stop Brooklyn’s call from landing like a gut punch. “I can’t believe you’re still here. You could’ve woken me, you know?”
“I know. I didn’t want to wake you. How are you feeling?”
“Better, I think. What time is it?”
“It’s six.”
“Six? Jesus. I can’t believe I slept that much.”
“You needed it.”
“I guess so. I feel awful, though. You wasted a day here.”
“No, I didn’t. I worked on my resume while you slept. It’s a long overdue necessity.”
I guess that’s something. “Brooklyn, if you want to leave—”
“Actually—I don’t make a habit of inviting myself, but I was hoping you might let me crash here. Again.”
“You don’t need to ask. You should know that.”
“I’d feel better if I stayed.”
“I’m okay. “
“Yeah, I know you’re okay. Humor me.”
I nod again.
