Taking A Risk by Karen Monroe
Analise
“What did he say?” Tildee asks, eyes lit with concern.
My head falls to my hands as I sit on the Queen-sized bed in her bedroom.
After I dropped William at his house, I headed straight to Tildee’s. She’d dragged me to her bedroom. We needed privacy for this conversation. I didn’t want anyone from either household overhearing.
“That he was sorry and not to worry. Whatever happened, he would be there. And… of course, it’s my decision how I wish to proceed. He’ll support me regardless of what I decide.”
“Well, that’s something.” When I don’t answer, Tildee lifts a hapless shoulder. “Right? And you could be pregnant. That’s a definite possibility. Trust me. All it takes is one time.”
I look heavenward with a sigh. “Please don’t put that in the universe. There’s no way I can handle a baby. Why the fuck did I NOT get back on birth control?”
Tildee places an arm around my shoulder, pulling me close. “You’re young. Mistakes happen. At least Will’s not a shit bag. If he says he’ll stick around, I believe him. Just don’t stress out. This is the 21st century, not the Middle Ages. But… if you’re not preggers, you better get your ass on birth control after this.”
Christ Almighty! Please don’t let me be pregnant. That’s the last thing I need.
Laying my head on Tildee’s shoulder, I laugh without mirth. “Why does shit always have to be so complicated? Me and William were having a good time. Now… this. And he tells me he loves me.”
Tildee gasps, pulling away. “You didn’t tell me he said that. Was that before or after the pregnancy scare?”
Again, I laugh. “Before. But it doesn’t matter because he doesn’t remember saying it.”
“What?”
Tildee looks shocked, so I explain, “He had a concussion. He took a hard hit during the game. I thought he was acting loopy, but when he woke up this morning, he said he didn’t remember anything from the night before.”
“Bullshit!”
“No, I believe him. You know how my mom used to act after her and my dad…” My voice trails off. I don’t want to rehash those episodes. I hate remembering bad times. The memories only make me resentful. There’s nothing I can do to change things. Dwelling on them doesn’t help. I have to keep moving forward.
Tildee gasp and shakes her head. “Yeah, yeah. Butstill? It happened.”
“Like I said, it doesn’t matter. I’ve always known where this was going. Will has made no promises.”
“But you said it back to him? Did you mean it?” Tildee shrewdly asks.
I had wondered about that myself. Maybe my “I love you, too” was reflexive. I certainly hadn’t been thinking about saying it; yet, even if that was the case, it didn’t matter. “I told you he doesn’t remember.”
A pair of hazel-brown eyes stare at me. There’s no escaping Tildee’s astute gaze.
“So what? He says I love you and you say it back, but now you’re going to act like it never happened? What would be the point of all that? Especially if you wind up pregnant.”
I jump from the bed in irritation. “Could you please stop saying that! I told you he had a concussion. He doesn’t remember saying it, and he probably didn’t even mean it.”
“Yeah, but you did.” Tildee stands up, grasping my forearms until I look at her. “Look, I know you like to bury your head in the sand. That’s your default mechanism for dealing with problems.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m saying you should talk to him about what happened. Not just about him cumming in you unprotected, but about the words you said to each other before that happened.” She pulls me back when I try to turn away. “You can’t run from this. Even though I know that’s what you want. You gotta face this head on.”
“Face what? I can’t make him remember.”
“No, but you can’t just dismiss it like it never happened. You need to talk to him.”
“Seriously? About what?” I glare at her, yanking my arms away. “What am I supposed to say? Remember when you told me you love me? You might have had a concussion, but… no take backs.”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
“Then what? What?”
“Just talk to him about it.”
“No! He’s going away at the end of the season. That’s like a month away. Regardless of—” I struggle to describe the current mess. “—the incident. It changes nothing!”
“Maybe it does. Maybe it changes everything!”
“Christ, Tildee! How do you think all of this is supposed to end? Am I supposed to follow him to the NFL? Maybe bring Shelby and Nate along? Get real! This has an end date. It wasn’t meant to last forever. It never was!”
Tildee closes the gap between us, hugging me. “I just don’t want to see you miss out on a good thing because you’re afraid. That’s no way to live your life, and seriously you’re too young to be this jaded.”
Grateful we’re no longer yelling. I sigh as I hug her back. “This isn’t a Hallmark movie. Not everything has a happy ending.”
“Yeah, I know,” she sighs, hugging me tighter. “I just don’t want to see you do something you may regret for your whole life. Been there. Done that. Got the T-shirt to prove it.”
Tildee had spoken a little about her “misspent youth”, but I only knew bits and pieces. I never had the courage to ask for the complete story.
“I’ll be fine,” I assure her, though my words ring hollow even to my own ears.
“You still planning on spending Thanksgiving with him?”
“Yeah. I let it slip in front of Nate, so there’s no way I’m getting out of it now. Besides, you’re going to your mom’s.”
“Ugh,” Tildee groans. “Don’t remind me. Another lovely holiday with Claire. Joy.”
“At least you still have a mom to fight with,” I remind her.
Her expression sobers. “Sorry. An overbearing and judgmental mother is still better than no mother at all.”
I smile sadly as I nod. “Exactly. Complaining about your mom is a privilege. Don’t forget it.”
* * *
William
I’mthankful practice is easy today. The coaches aren’t pushing us. We're mostly relaxing, and the defense is waiting for Mackenzie to set up the offense.
Garcia, our Mike LB, is looking up in the sky, probably counting the birds flying overhead. Pinckney and Dean are engaged in a conversation over the greatest superhero. They’re dead locked over Superman vs. Captain America.
“Listen here, numb nuts! Superman can fly. He has X-ray-vision, laser vision, and icy breath. He’d freeze or burn up Captain America before he could even lay a hand on him. Did you see the way Iron Man kicked his ass in that movie? If the Winter Soldier hadn’t shown up, that muthafucka would’ve been toast. If Iron Man can kick Steve Rogers’ ass, then he ain’t no match for Superman. C’mon!”
Several of the defensive players laugh. This is a usual conversation for Pinckney and Dean. Lucas is a die-hard DC fan and Jeffrey is the Marvel nut-head always willing to argue. They could go on like this for hours.
I’m amused by the conversation like everyone else, but I notice something going on in the offense. Things look tense on the other side of the field, but Mackenzie steps forward, signaling the end of the huddle.
The defense lines up on cue. We all want to finish practice early.
Griff calls out the play, but there’s a sudden commotion between Jackson Bishop and Travis Wilton. The young offensive lineman and the senior wide-receiver chirp at each other on the line, then Wilton runs full speed at Jax. I have no idea what’s going on. I’m still in a stance when the commotion starts.
Hurrying toward the action, by the time I get there, the two combatants are separated and glaring at each other.
Coach Vaughn arrives in full rampage-mode, ordering Wilton and Bishop from the field, then he glares at the rest of the team. “Anyone else want to leave? Because if you’re here to fuck around or goof off, you can leave too!” He waits a beat, looking around again. “No volunteers? Okay then. Let’s fucking practice!”
There’s no bird counting or talk of fictional superheroes anymore. No one wants to get on the head coach’s nasty side. He can and will bench you if you piss him off. I know this firsthand since he’d put me on the shelf during my sophomore year after I argued with Coach Gary during the game. I learned my lesson then.
Practice runs with no further interruptions and when it’s time to go, I dress quickly and locate Griff so we can get the hell out of there.
“What the fuck was that shit with Jax and the sophomore,” I ask, once we’ve cleared the locker room.
“Ah… man. Jax was being Jax. Then I joked about Wilton being a virgin and Jax called him out.” Griff snorts. “Turns out the kid really is a virgin. And you know Jax.”
“I can’t believe Wilton admitted to being a virgin.” That’s the last thing you want to admit on any football team. Players are like unruly adolescents. They lack filters and basic common sense.
“Yeah… well, I feel like shit for saying it. I didn’t know he was one.”
I snort loudly. “Like that would have stopped you.”
Griff shakes his head. “Naw. He’s a good dude, and he’s good on the line. I don’t want to screw with his head. We need him.”
Nodding in agreement, I respond, “Talk to him tomorrow. Let him know you have his back.”
I remember when I was a junior player. Acceptance from the senior members on the team was a boon. It helped with hazing and kept everyone aligned within the hierarchy.
“Yeah, I plan on talking to the other starters, too. We don’t want dissension this close to the end of the season,” Griff says.
That’s the last thing this team needs. “For real, man! I want my last game to be the Cotton Bowl.”
“No shit,” he replies, clicking the fob of his Range Rover.
Griff’s a smart guy, though. I joke about him being dim-witted. He has an intuitiveness most people lack. It’s why he can read defenses so well.
“Are you going to the team’s Thanksgiving dinner?” I ask.
“I don’t know. Cassi’s staying in town. Her dad has to work. Plus, I hate those things.”
Cassidy Holbrook was Griffin’s girl. They’d only been together for a little while, but things were already serious between them. I knew very little about her, but she snagged Griff’s attention in a big way. He was hooked. I was happy for him, but I still thought he was crazy for getting involved with her before he went pro.
“You hanging with her tonight?”
He nods. “Yep. I’m picking her up from work in an hour.”
“Cool,” I say, glancing at him. “You think I can borrow your car later?”
I feel like a leech for asking. Griff doesn’t even charge me rent, but I want to reserve a rental car for the holidays, and if possible, stop by Analise’s house. I’d usually ask Jax, but he’s been MIA since the tongue-lashing from Coach “V”.
“Sure.” He replies easily, then after a few ticks, he laughs aloud. “Do you needing my car have anything to do with a certain snuggle bunny?”
This fucking guy!
Jax was to blame for this mess. If he hadn’t opened his trap, Griff would be none the wiser. “God! I might beat Jax’s ass next,” I say, and I mean it. “I wish he’d never opened his big mouth.”
Griff sniggers. “This is Jax we’re talking about. The same guy who’s never met a social situation he couldn’t fuck up. And… you didn’t answer my question.”
Turning to look out the window, I smirk at my hazy reflection and lie, “I’m going to the library to study.”
“You’ve been to the library a lot these past weeks. Lots of late nights. Also, I notice you smiling more often, usually right after you get back from the library.”
“Jackass,” I mutter.
“Who is she?”
“You wouldn’t know her.”
“Right. Hence me asking who she is.”
Exasperated, I debate my answer before saying, “She’s just somebody I’m hooking up with.” Though, as soon as the words leave my lips, I want to take them back. What started between us may have begun as a hookup, but it had stopped being that a long time ago.
Griff punches me in the arm. “At the library? You dirty dog! That’s taking studying to a whole new level.”
Rolling my eyes, I resist punching him back. He’s driving and injuring his right arm is out of the question. “Shut up, man!” I retort instead of laying him out.
Griff shrugs before driving out the roundabout. “You finally got some tail. That’s a good thing, right?”
“Yeah,” I grunt. Of course, I don’t mention Analise may be pregnant. That will not be a topic for public consumption.
“At least tell me her name?”
I sigh as I lean my head back against the headrest. “Analise.”
He hums thoughtfully. “Do you like her?”
My eyes roll. If Griff were anyone else, I’d shine him on, but he’s my roommate and best friend. I’m also stuck in his damn car.
“I wouldn’t be with her if I didn’t.”
“Yeah, but there are girls, and then there are… girls. You know what I mean?”
I snigger. “Not really. I barely understand anything that comes out of your mouth.”
“What’s up with all the evasion? What you got to hide?”
“My personal business from nosey fucktards like you.”
Griff snorts. “Harsh! But you know that only makes me more curious!”
He’s obviously taking the long way home, which means he’s intent on grilling me. Sighing, I relax against the plush passenger seat. His car is really comfortable, even for a guy my size.
“Fine. What do you want to know?”
“Where’d you meet?”
“At the library a couple of months ago.”
“A couple of months?” His voice is stunned. Then he chortles loudly. “Wait a minute! Please tell me you got it on in the Cooper building?” When I don’t answer, he smacks the steering wheel. “Library sex. I’m jealous, man. So... is it serious between you and this chick?”
My hackles rise. “Her name’s Analise.”
He glances at me, a stunned expression in his eyes. “My bad,” he apologizes, before looking back at the road. “I guess it is serious?”
Wiping a hand across my face, I exhale before answering, “Yes… no… maybe.”
“Well, that clears it up.”
Taking offense at his tone, I snap, “I like being with her. I like fucking her. Does that answer your question?”
“Yes… no… maybe.”
“Asshole,” I mumble, though loud enough for him to hear.
“I don’t see the problem. If you like her that’s a good thing.”
Rolling my eyes, I glare at him. I’m still working on processing through everything going on between me and Analise. I’m in no mood for Griff’s sunny day bullshit.
“The problem is, I wasn’t born with a silver fucking spoon in my mouth. No one’s rolling out the red carpet for me on Draft Day. I have to bust my ass, then hope and pray I’m taken in the second round for a shot at some decent money.” I huff a breath, shaking my head. “My entire future relies on me making the right choices. If I fuck up now, I’ll never have another shot like this. And my mommy and daddy won’t be there to bail me out like yours.”
My last words are a direct shot at Griff’s privileged heritage, and he knows it.
“Fuck you! I put in the work. I’ve never had shit handed to me on the field, and you fucking know it!”
Mackenzie was blessed. But he did work hard. In fact, he probably worked harder than a lot of guys on the team. Still, I’m too fucking irritated with his bullshit to take my words back.
Undeterred, Griff continues, “I thought getting some pussy would put you in a good mood, but you’re like a little bitch! What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Just leave it alone, man.”
“You know what I don’t understand? How such a smart guy like you can be so fucking dense.”
Since I used the same word to describe him not so long ago, I know he is just gearing up.
“You’re overthinking something really fucking simple,” he scorns.
“Simple for you maybe.”
“Christ, Will! It’s not fucking rocket science. You play football and you live your life. Those two goals aren’t mutually exclusive.”
“Ooh... you’re using big words. Good for you, man.”
He sniffs in disdain. “Who would have thought? The man with an IQ of 150 is stumped by some pussy.”
We’re stopped at a light, and I debate several ways I could easily break Griff’s jaw. I don’t want this to escalate into a physical fight, but his high and mighty manner is really pissing me off.
I hold my breath for a moment before releasing it in a rush, then I spear my roommate with a look of pure contempt. “You should talk! Your head’s been in the weeds since you met Cassi!”
“Are you fucking kidding me right now?”
“No,” I grit, deadly serious. “All you’ve been about is securing a simple piece of pussy. What’s the matter? You need a ready-made cheerleader for day one of your NFL career?”
The light turns green, but the car doesn’t move. Griff is staring at me with what I can only describe as hate in his eyes. We’ve come to blows before. That’s a natural consequence of being competitive individuals, who are also teammates and roommates, but I don’t think I have ever felt this amount of fury from him in the past. His hands are clenched on the steering wheel as his chest rises and falls from his rapid panting.
Horns honk behind us, but Griff doesn’t move the car, his laser-like gaze trained on me, seemingly oblivious to the commotion behind us.
I hold his glare, unafraid, but I do… sort of wish I could take back my angrily uttered words. My pride, though, will never allow that to happen.
An impatient driver lays into his horn until the sound snaps Griff out of his hateful trance. He breathes slowly, then looks down at the gear shift before looking back up at me. His eyes narrow to slits.
“Because we’re friends, and I know right now you’re not thinking clearly and just talking out of your ass. I’m going to ack like I didn’t hear you say what you just did. But if you ever say some kind of shit like that again…” He pauses, shaking his head slowly, before finishing, “You will regret it. Got it?”
I turn my gaze away from him to look out the window. “Noted.”
Griff puts the car in drive and the honking behind us finally ceases. When we arrive at the house a few minutes later, we still haven’t said a word to each other.
My roommate makes a beeline for his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. I do the same, though I don’t slam mine. No need for extra dramatics; besides, I still need to borrow dude’s car. Pissing him off further would be self-defeating, not to mention stupid as fuck.
* * *
Analise
The library is unusually crowdedthis evening. With the holiday approaching, a lot of people are cramming. Most of the computer stations are full. Students are milling about looking lost and confused.
Glancing at my watch, I note the time. It’s only 4:30. William usually stops by between seven and eight; though, I’m not sure if he’s planning on doing so tonight. We’d spoken a couple of times since Sunday, but he had made no promises. He had football practice—of course—and he was finishing up a project for his economics class.
The pregnancy-scare loomed over us like an impending thundercloud. It was too soon to take a test, and according to my menstrual app, I had to wait another three weeks for Mother Nature to give me a sign.
For the first time in my life, I prayed for my period. I hated thosetimesof the month. I was always so tired, but I would kiss my box of Tampax if—fingers crossed—Aunt Flo showed up this month. The dread was unbearable, so I did my best to stay busy. I’d picked up extra hours at the store and started helping Tildee with her garden.
Tilling soil was therapeutic. I planned to start a container garden of my own after fall. I was researching the best types of vegetables or flowers to plant when a chipper voice sings out, “I thought that was you. What’s up girl?”
Surprised to find Keisha in front of me, I smile at the warm expression in her dark brown eyes. I’d seen her many times at the parking kiosk, but this was the first time I’d ever seen her outside of the booth.
“Nothing much. Just working,” I answer, standing so I can give her a brief hug.
“I didn’t know you worked at the library.”
I laugh. “Yep. That day my car broke down I had an interview.”
She looks around the crowded space. “I should have gotten a job here. You get to people watch,” she says, winking with a knowing expression.
Keisha definitely gets it. I knew there was a reason I liked this girl. “What brings you to the library? You here to cram like everyone else?”
“Gurl please,” she replies, smacking her pink lips together. “I finished all my studies last week. I’m tutoring someone in chemistry for extra bucks. She’s the one who’s cramming.” Keisha leans against the counter, scanning the area. “And she’s late. If that girl doesn’t show in ten minutes, I’m outta here.”
She grabs a chair from one of the nearby tables, not even bothering to ask the group sitting there is she can have it, which makes me laugh under my breath.
“I’ll hang out with you until she shows,” she says, sitting next to me.
I don’t mind. Keisha is crazy funny. The few brief conversations we’ve had always ended with me laughing my head off. In no time short, she has me giggling as she regales me with crazy stories about her professors, friends, and enemies. She seems to know everyone and has the lowdown on all the campus gossip. She’s not mean-spirited. In fact, Keisha compliments many of the same people she insults in the same breath.
Ten minutes fly by, but I’m so absorbed in our conversation I’m startled when a gigantic shadow falls over us.
“This looks like trouble. Javon know you’re here?” William asks, peering down from his great height.
Keisha jumps from her chair, darting around the info desk to give William a hug. “Gilly, what’s up?”
“Nothin’ much. Just stopped by to talk to Analise.”
The milky mocha-colored beauty lifts one finely arched brow. “You two know each other?”
“Uh… yeah. We’re friends,” I answer, my gaze switching back and forth between them.
Keisha gazes at me, then at William. A mischievous gleam in her eyes. “Friends? Is that right? So… are you two friends going to Griff’s for Thanksgiving?”
William shakes his head, looking a bit discomfited. “Naw. I’m going to the alumni dinner. Coach Gary asked me to go.”
I notice William doesn’t include me, and a vice-like grip squeezes the region around my heart. I don’t know why, but I’m hurt by the exclusion.
“Really? You taking Analise with you?”
Way to go, Keisha! Unfortunately, before Will can answer, a deep voice calls out, “Gilmore? What’s up?”
A giant who mirrors William in stature and height walks up, standing beside him. They take a moment to greet each other, but I’m surprised when the newcomer turns next to give Keisha a hug.
“Analise, this is Travis Wilton, my teammate,” William volunteers.
Travis smiles broadly, reaching out a hand. “Nice to meet you, Analise.”
I smile in return, giving him a firm shake. He seems friendly, and his Appalachian twang is kind of cute. Also, he’s got the beginnings of what I guess will be a real pretty shiner once all the bruising sets in.
“Nice to meet you too.” I point at his left eye, saying next, “I hope you won.”
Keisha claps and laughs loudly, causing several heads to turn our way. “Ohmygawd! Javon told me you laid Jax out on the fifty-yard line. I sooo wish I had been there to see that.”
“I wish I laid him out,” Travis mutters, his cheeks reddening with what I assume is anger.
Will pats him on the back, hard. “No, you don’t. Because if you did, you’d be benched for the rest of the season.”
Keisha nods. “Listen to him. Coach “V” don’t play around.”
I no longer wonder how Keisha and William know each other. The connection is clear, and since I don’t know what they’re talking about, I stay silent watching their interaction.
“Travis, we were just talking about Griff’s Thanksgiving party. Are you planning on going?”
“If I’m invited.” He looks at William with askance. It’s kind of cute.
Keisha sniffs before blowing a raspberry with her lips. “Just show up, man. People will roll through that house all night. Except, of course, for Gilly. He’s going to the alumni dinner with his girlfriend,” Keisha volunteers, pointing at me while grinning from ear to ear.
Damn!This girl really, really likes to stir the pot. William hadn’t even confirmed the information, and neither of us had said anything about being boyfriend and girlfriend. Strangely, though, William doesn’t correct Keisha, and the vice-like grip around my heart lessens.
“Those things are so boring. The only reason to go is for the prizes. Last year I got this Apple Watch.” Travis holds up his wrist, flashing the shiny device.
William snorts. “Why you think they give them away? It’s the only way they can get any of the players to come.”
“The food is good, though. They have everything. Prime rib, turkey, ham, lobster. Damn! I’m getting hungry just thinking about it.
Keisha again tosses me another side-eye. “So, how long you two been going out?”
I look at William for help because she’s clearly settling in for a full court press.
“Keisha, are you angling for Jax’s job of team gossip?” William asks, raising one bushy brow at the milky mocha-colored beauty.
Keisha puts a hand to her chest, covering her heart. “That’s a low blow, Gilly.”
“If the shoe fits, I could always tell Javon about that time at the Florida State game—”
“Okay,” Keisha interrupts. “I think I see Charlotte. Time to go. I’ll catch you later, Analise. I’ll see you later, too, Travis.” She tilts her head at William. “Gilly, keep your mouth shut about that game… orelse.”
He laughs, “My lips are sealed.”
“Better be,” she mutters.
Travis hangs around for another couple of minutes, chatting with Will, then he too wanders off, heading for the bay of elevators.
“Sorry about that,” William says once we’re alone.
“For what?”
“Keisha’s third degree.” He sits down in the empty chair. “How do you know her?”
I laugh, remembering back to the day we met. “My car broke down at the kiosk where she works. That kind of bonded us. I take it this Javon person is on your team?”
“Yeah. O-line. Keisha and him have been together forever.”
I sniff in amusement because it really is a small world.
A few moments pass and I glance over at William nervously as a weird silence settles between us. This is the first time we’ve seen each other since… the incident.
“So wassup?” I ask, unable to bear the silence any longer.
“Uh… yeah. You know we have a by this week.” My face must show my confusion, because he clarifies, “No game this week.”
I nod in understanding, waiting for him to continue.
“Since I have the time, I was thinking I could head over to your house and change the handle on your main valve. I also noticed you need new fittings on some of your pipes in the kitchen. Might as well kill two birds with one stone.”
“I-I thought you had to work on a project for class?”
William’s head shakes quickly. “I finished everything already.”
Lucky for him.
Instinctively, my mind scrambles for a reason to say no, but I don’t because I need the help. I always need help.
“Alright,” I murmur.
A couple more moments pass, and William and I try to look everywhere else except at each other. Hoping to inject a bit of levity into the tension, I laugh nervously before saying, “You better not let Tildee see you. After you replaced my garbage disposal, she’s been begging me nonstop to ask you to look at hers.”
That was an exaggeration. Tildee had only asked once, but my anecdote has the desired affect and a broad grin lines William’s face.
“I owe her.” He says, his smile growing wider. “Big time! Text her I’ll stop by if she’s cool with that. I’m sure whatever’s wrong won’t take long to fix.”
I reach into my jean pocket, pulling out my cell. “Better yet. I’ll give you her cell number. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you, Will.”
“You never call me Will.”
I smirk as I type out my text. “What? Am I not allowed to call you that?”
“I don’t mind. But… I like when you call me William.”
Pausing mid-tap, I look up to stare at him. “Why?”
He frowns, then looks blankly at something over my shoulder. “Because the only person who called me that was my grandmother. My mom wanted to name me Chad.”
I’d known a couple of guys named Chad. They were all assholes.
Putting my phone down, I gently tap one of his thick, muscular thighs. “She picked a winner. William’s a regal name, and it suits you way better than Chad.”
Over the weeks, he had told me bits and pieces about his maternal grandmother. I know she died when he was a senior in high school. Our hands thread together after he places his meaty palm on top of mine.
“It was her father’s name.”
Our conversation is a welcome respite to the earlier tension, and we continue talking about everything and nothing for another hour. When he’s ready to go, I give him the house key since he’ll need it to get inside. He gives me a gentle peck on the forehead in return as he unfolds his large body from the chair.
He smiles down at me. “Don’t forget to caffeinate before you drive. And if you have any car problems, call me.”
His protective words are a familiar refrain, but I feel like he’s putting a little extra on it tonight. “I’ll be fine,” I assure him.
“Do you want me to pick up some food for later?”
I shake my head, tapping the Tupperware container on the desk. “Naw, I brought last night’s leftovers. Chicken Fettuccini Alfredo.” He’s standing less than a foot away, so I can easily hear the audible rumble echoing from his belly. I’m not surprised. William is always hungry, so I add for good measure. “There’s some more in the fridge. You’re welcome to it. Consider it partial payment for the repair work.”
His stomach growls again. “Deal. But there probably won’t be any left after I’m done.”
I laugh. “Understood.”
After another smile he starts forward, but he turns back one last time, looking over his shoulder. “I’ll you see you when you get home.”
Home.
The word echoes through my mind long after he leaves the library and as I make my way to the parking structure after work.
My house hadn’t felt like a home since my parents died. I slept there and paid the bills, but it wasn’t a place where I could be safe from worry and carefree. Aside from Tildee, who helped, I’d been taking care of everything by myself. It was exhausting. I couldn’t count how many times I’d cried myself to sleep, overwhelmed with obligations.
Home.
The word echoes through my mind again, and a trill of contentment tingles down my spine. I would never admit this aloud, but a part of me wished it was our home—me and William’s.
Sighing, I immediately dismiss my thoughts as I turn the key in the ignition.