Also on my hate list is the fact my sister is struggling, too, like we’re both?—
“Roar?”
I hold my breath.
“I know you’re awake.” His voice is low, but it wraps around me, squeezing every inch of my skin in the dark.
“I’m fine,” I whisper automatically. “I just can’t sleep.”
“You want to talk about anything?”
I swallow around all of my spinning thoughts. “You were really helpful tonight.”
“That’s keeping you up?”
That’s the thin edge of the wedge, but I don’t want to talk about the rest of it. “I don’t really deserve that kindness. But I do appreciate it.”
He exhales. “You do deserve it, though. That’s the thing.”
I screw up my face and don’t say anything.
“Do you want to talk about Cassie?” he asks after a minute of pregnant silence.
“No.”
“Do you want to talk about us?”
“There is no us.” God, my voice sounds small. I meant it as an objective fact, but Garrett picks up on the hurt that’s too hard to hide.
“I know.” He sighs. “You tensed up when Cassie saidNate thinks she’s a lot. And I just wanted to say that I don’t think you’re too much. You’re…great.”
“That would be more believable if you didn’t hesitate before saying great.”
“It’s not hesitation. It’s uncertainty about how far I should go in praising my stubborn ex while we’re sharing a blanket.”
“You don’t need to praise me at all. I know I’ve dragged you into a big family mess, and I’m sorry about that.”
“It’s my family mess, too.” His voice turns rough.
I turn my head sideways.
Even in the dark, I can tell that he’s looking at me.
And now I can’t look away.
“That’s why I went skating tonight,” he adds. “I, uh, thought it might be my last time on the trail alone. And I was thinking about how your family is my only family, too. I know, I have my cousins, butthisis where I come home for Christmas. You don’t need to feel bad about dragging me into anything, Roar. I invited myself because I didn’t have anywhere else to go. And I didn’t know that last year was my last year in this family, so having a redo on that?—”
“You’re always going to be welcome here.” The words are tight, but it’s not hard to say, because it’s the truth. “My parents love you. And who knows, maybeIwon’t come home for Christmas next year. You can have them all to yourself.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I don’t even know where I’ll be. But, uh, it probably won’t be Ottawa.” It’s a confession a long time coming. My head spins at the relief of finally admitting the truth.
“You’re moving? What happened to getting hired on at the hospital?” When I don’t answer, he sighs again. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
“It’s not you. I don’t want to talk about it at all.” I inhale slowly. “What about you? Are you going to stay in Ottawa?”
“Haven’t thought about it.” He rolls onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. Not looking at me anymore, his body language clearly projecting that he needs a second to process what I’ve just said. “Where else are you looking?”
