“You don’t have to do that. I really don’t mind washing them by hand.” I blow into my cup before I take a small, careful sip. Yeah, just as good as I envisioned it.
“I’m going to show you.” Her voice is firm and nonnegotiable.
“Okay,” I concede, not that it would’ve taken much to get me to agree. “Show me, but washing dishes is the least I can do. You won’t let me pay rent, clean, or do anything but be here.”
We talked about it after we got done talking about our pretend future. Though that got me thinking. Before, during, and after Amanda, it never crossed my mind. I have too much on my plate right now to have considered or wanted it.
But now I wonder about it and about hers too.
“Because the house has already been paid for and I clean, so you don’t have to worry about it,” she absently replies, eyes lost and detached.
“Hey.” I reach for her hand but again, I curl my fingers into a fist and I don’t touch her. I do keep my hand next to hers though. “We can compromise. I’ll start buying groceries and cooking.” Her lips part, and I don’t doubt she’ll argue against me doing that. “Take it or take it. I’m not going to argue with you, Josefine.”
“You mean take it or leave it?”
My heart stutters at the graze of her hand against mine. “Usually but this isn’t negotiable. I’m going to be here and I really want to be useful to you.”
She turns her body to face me, raising her leg on the couch, but that causes my hand to brush against her shin. I jerk my hand back, resisting the sudden urge toreallytouch her. But that doesn’t stop me from dropping my eyes to her parted legs. Or notice the way the seam of her shorts is wedged between her pussy.
Fuck me, maybe staying isn’t a good idea.
I look away and notice something flash across her face, but it’s gone before I can take it in.
“Daniel, I didn’t give you a key to my house because I wanted you to work orbe useful.” She breathes a heavy sigh. “If I wanted a maid or chef, I would hire one.” She shifts in her seat, like she’s not sure if she wants to voice what she’s thinking out loud or if she’s comfortable enough. “I have enough money and—I’mgoing to leave it at that, but I want you to know that I see you too.”
I’m uncertain what she means at first, but it dawns on me a second later. My chest constricts, and a knot the size of an entire continent lodges in the middle of my throat, making it hard to breathe.
I want to speak but I can’t find the right words. I scope through my brain and try to find the appropriate thing to say.
Her throat bobs and she sits up straighter. “I may be the last person you want to talk to or even confide in. I’m not good at giving advice or being the most affectionate. I may be overstepping and you can tell me to never bring this up and I won’t, but I just want you to know that I see you.I see you,Daniel,” she reaffirms, like she needs me to understand that she knows what I’m feeling, that she can see it and isn’t going to pretend it’s not there. “I don’t want you to feel like you need to make yourself cheerful or useful in order to be around me. I just want you to be you. And if you need someone to talk to, vent to, someone who will just listen, I’m here.” Her brown eyes level with mine as she says that. “But if you don’t, that’s okay, too.”
All the air I was struggling to breathe in, whooshes in so rapidly. I’m inhaling so much, my lungs burn and my chest hurts. I want to make it stop, I want to stop breathing, to stop thinking, but I can’t.
I blink to not give myself away but as I do, images that haunt me play in my head. So many of them and all at once.
You have to help him! Help him!
“Garcia?” Her gentle voice stops the memory from playing on repeat. “Do you want to talk about it?”
I take a small sip of my coffee, letting the hot liquid burn my throat. I smile at her and hate myself because I should be helping her and not the other way around.
“Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.” I force my lips to lift higher, feeling angry that she looks genuinely concerned. “I promise.”
I’m the guy who has his shit together. I don’t worry people or make them sad. I’m the guy who people go to whenever something’s wrong.
I should be that for Josefine, not the other way around.
The air whooshes in again, fast and heavy. My lungs burn and my head spins. I drink more coffee, not bothering to drink it slowly or carefully so I don’t burn myself. At first, I wince as it goes down my throat, but then the pain subdues until I feel nothing.
Her lips pinch in a flat line. “Okay. I just wanted to let you know that I see you and I’m here for you.”
“Thanks, Jos. I’m here for you, too.” Again, I’m tempted to grab her hand, to hold her, to touch her, but I stop myself.
She stiffly nods, not really looking at me. Now I really hate myself. We were good, and now I ruined it.
“I—”
My phone vibrating in my pocket halts me from saying anything else. I don’t know who could be calling me since it’s late, and while the guys don’t know where I am, they think I’m with a girl. It’s not a lie; they just don’t know the girl is Josie.
