I do my best to be quiet as I let myself in, but Jen barks as I unlock the door. I hurry inside, shushing her as I gently close the door behind me. There’s a soft light coming from the kitchen, so I go to investigate and get a snack before bed. The small Christmas tree in the window is still lit up—Reed probably left it on for me—and it bathes the room in a warm festive glow.
Now that I’m home, the lack of sleep seems to hit me hard and I really can’t be bothered to make food, but I can’t go to bed on an empty stomach. I’ll never sleep. With a resigned sigh, I open the fridge looking for inspiration.
And then stare in wonder at the plastic containers with my name on them. Well, there’s a folded piece of paper on top of them withJerrywritten on it, and when I reach for it, there’s a note written inside.
I didn’t think you’d feel like cooking anything if you get back late, so there’s leftover soup or a chicken salad sandwich if you fancy either of them. Or both? I wasn’t sure how hungry you’d be. There’s also some sourdough left in the bread bin.
There’s a crude smiley face drawn at the end of it.
I’m grinning by the time I’ve finished reading, and fuck me, I’ve never been so excited by the thought of soup and a sandwich.
I carefully refold the note and tuck it into my pocket.
Thank you, Reed.
I’d kiss him if he was here right now.
I’d do more than that.
The thought that he did all this for me, that he was thinking about me while I was gone, makes my heart swell with something I really need to put a stop to.
Don’t get ahead of yourself, Jerry.
I eat the sandwich standing up while I reheat the soup, suddenly far hungrier than I was before discovering I don’t have to make anything. It’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted, which might have something to do with the late hour and how knackered I am, but it still stands.
I mop up the soup with two slices of sourdough and butter, then lean back against the counter with a sigh and a full belly. I wish I could tell Reed right now how grateful I am, but I suspect he wouldn’t appreciate being woken up at—I check the time on the oven—three fifteen in the morning. He’s heading into the office tomorrow to meet with his boss, and I probably won’t see him before he goes. Tomorrow night seems ages away.
Grabbing a page from the pad on the fridge, I leave him a note of my own and place it on the coffee maker. It’s always Reed’s first stop in the morning.
Jen has stayed up to keep me company, so I let her out to do her business, then we both head upstairs to bed.
I pause at the top of the stairs when I notice Reed’s light is still on. Surely he’s not still up? Maybe I can say thank you in person.
His door’s open enough that I can’t help but see in andfuck me, he doesn’t make it easy for me to keep my emotions reined in. Only the top part of his face is visible because he has the thick quilt pulled right up. I can only see his eyes and a shock of unruly brown hair. Frank is curled up on the pillow behind his head, and Kyla—the traitor—is stretched out along his front. They’re like feline sentries and they both look over at me as I standthere like an idiot, but it’s not a sight I was expecting. Maybe it’s because I’m running on too little sleep, but after the note and the dinner he left me, it hits me hard.
I like having him here, in my home, and it’s going to fucking hurt when he leaves.
Maybe we’ll keep seeing each other after or maybe we’ll go back to being friends. Either way it won’t be the same. And I need to be okay with that.
“Come on,” I murmur and nudge Jen in the direction of my room. “Let’s go to bed.”
Like I thoughthe would be, Reed is gone when I get up the next morning. I slept like the dead and didn’t even hear him get up. He must’ve fed all the animals because no one came to pester me for food. In fact, the cats are nowhere to be seen, and Jen barely looks up when I walk into the kitchen. Reed must’ve let her outside as well.
Just over a week of living here, and he already fits in so well.
I ignore the curl of warmth that ignites in my belly and set about making breakfast because I’m going to have to go back out to the farm at some point today, and I’ve got other shit to do first.
I’m halfway through making myself a coffee when I remember the note I left.
Did he read it?
A quick scan of the worktop shows no sign of it. I can’t see it in the bin either, and a big part of me hopes he kept it, like I’ve kept his.
My phone chimes with a text alert as I’m sitting down to eat, Reed’s name on the screen. It’s almost like he knows I’ve been thinking about him.
Reed: Hey, how’d it go last night? All okay?
Jerry: Too soon to tell, yet. Going back out later for a follow up.
