His eyebrow quirked. “In case you forgot, I was busy being dead for a while.”
I could tell he was just trying to get a rise out of me. “I meant there’s so much you haven’t seen yet. So many good books and songs and television shows and movies you could read and watch and listen to now.”
He fiddled with the duvet we sat on before peering up at me through his lashes. “Would you show it to me?If it’s your favorite?”
My stomach swooped again. “Yeah.”
“What about…” He blushed. “My sister and I went to seeTop Gunin the theater together. She was the only other one who knew that I liked men, too, so it was fun to just enjoy it withher without worrying over whether it was obvious I was drooling the whole time. We went three nights in a row the week before I moved out here. Could we watch that one too?”
I cleared the catch in my throat. “Of course, I’ll watchTop Gunwith you. After we’re done,we can watch the sequel.”
His eyes lit up. “They made another? With the same people?”
“Some of the same. It came out just a few years ago, so they’re all older now. Goose’s son is in it.”
“Oh, Goose…” he sighed dreamily, sinking further down the bed. His legs dangled off the side. “That mustache did things to me.”
I laughed and found myself running a hand over my beard. My eyes caught on the way his jacket and T-shirt rode up, exposing a strip of soft skin.
What did Charlie look like without all those layers on?
I coughed, reached over to grab our bowls, and carried them to the counter, busying my hands with cleanup before I embarrassed myself. What the fuck was I thinking?
My MS flare-up left me feeling like a lot of my body wasn’t my own the last few months, and the boatload of steroids they’d given me hadn’t helped.
I stressed over whether I’d simply slept on my arm wrong and caused my hand to fall asleep, or whether the fleeting numbness was a sign of something more serious. Sometimes I searched for a word for too long, wound up stumbling through a conversation, and dreaded that it wasn’t just exhaustion or distraction.
I’d lost all interest in my career, even though this past Spring semester marked significant milestones I’d worked my ass off to achieve. My two master's students successfully defended their theses and graduated, and my tenure application was approved.
And I’d felt nothing.
My neurologist had warned me the stress from an MS diagnosis could impact my life in unexpected and significant ways, but with catching it so early and their swift action to begin treatment, I hadn’t expected to still feel like so much was taken from me.
So, whether it was stress, a lingering effect of the flare-up, steroids, or because depression was often co-morbid with MS, I wasn’t sure, but I hadn’t had a sex drive in months.
Until now, apparently, at the sight of Charlie, happy and relaxed in my bed, with just a hint of skin peeking out. I felt a bit like a teenager all over again, desperately trying to hide an involuntary boner.
“So,Top Gunwas your favorite movie?” I asked, readying the leftovers to take down to the fridge. I tried to think of anything that would make my half-chub go down.
Like health insurance, maybe.
Ahh, yes, works like a charm. Finally, something it’s good for.
Charlie shrugged. “At the time, yeah. It’s why Frankie got me this jacket.It’s cold in Idaho,she’d said.” He laughed. “I told her it wasn’t cold in the summer. And now look,” he gestured to the sleet-crusted windows. “Guess she was right.”
His gaze grew distant, lost in his memories again, but the soft smile on his face told me they weren’t sad, this time.
I left him to it and finished up the dishes before gathering everything we needed to store in the outbuilding. “I’m going to take this down and use the restroom. I won’t be long,” I said quietly, afraid to interrupt his introspection.
He blinked up at me before a serious look came over his face. “I’m coming with you. You shouldn’t go alone.”
Reaching for the shoulder holster Dad lent me, I looped one arm through and then the other, clipping it in place before holstering the gun he’dalsolent me. “I wanted to be armed withsomething more powerful than bear spray, after what happened. This keeps my hands free,” I said. I felt safer knowing I could protect myself if the killer came back, but I didn’t want to freak Charlie out.
He stared at the gun for a beat. “Good,” was all he said before he stood and grabbed a stack of Tupperware. “Let’s go.”
Our trip out of the tower was uneventful, but cold. Flurries of snow danced and shifted along the ground as violent gusts of wind bit at my nose and cheeks. My fingertips were chilled and aching by the time we hustled back up the stairs and into the warmth of the cabin.
“Fuck, it’s cold,” I said, holding my hands over the fire to warm them.
