“Right now, you don’t need any more pressure.” Carissa has the words I don’t. “I’m here, and we don’t need labels for that. I’m here as a friend, as someone who cares, and as your safe place.”
“I want to give you more than that. I can’t just take that from you and offer nothing in return.”
She gives me a slow blink that says she’s never heard anything crazier in her life. “Your friendship isnotnothing.”
My heart flips over as she stresses that word.
“We could try.” My hand spans the small of her back. She’s so warm against me, and her closeness makes my belly flutter. “Try our best and see how it plays out,” I elaborate. “Be kind, considerate, and talk to each other. Give each other lots of breaks and grace, because things will no doubt be beyond complicated. If we seehowthis goes, maybe we’ll be able to better understandwhereit’s going. Life is going to look different in a few weeks than it does now. But I think we’re worth at least giving it a shot. You’redefinitelyworth it.” Yeah, it’s not exactly romantic, but Carissa looks at me like I just put the moon in the darned sky.
“That’s very honest and brave.”
“It doesn’t feel very brave. I’m literally shaking,” I say.
“I think it’s brave. Can I hug you?” she asks.
“Of course!” I reply.
Her arms twine around my shoulders and then my neck. She presses herself tight against me, tucking her face into my shoulder. All my insides are in full revolt mode, but it’s a good revolt.
“If I asked you to, would you come back and work for me?” I ask her.
She stiffens. “You know I’d love to, but it wouldn’t be ethical. I can’t mix a relationship with my professional business.”
“Yeah.” I stroke my hand up her back. “Sorry. I know that.”
“Will you hear me out if I tell you a hard truth?”
“I know what you’re going to say. That I need to get over it. But you’ll say it in a much more caring and sensitive way.”
She snorts against my neck, breathing out in relief. “This is incredibly difficult. Your feelings are valid. Your fears are real. I do think, for your own safety, it would be beneficial if you talk to someone about how to better manage them. This is coming from a place of zero judgment. Honestly.”
“I get it. It’s okay. I know you’re not telling me I’m an idiot.”
She jerks back, alarmed. “Far from! That’s the last thing you could ever be.” I can’t help it. I trace her bottom lip with the pad of my thumb. Her pupils instantly dilate, her eyes darkening. “Our health is so important.”
“I hear you. I’ve been thinking about it for a long time. I don’t like that I have this. I wish I didn’t. Logically, I know how fucked up it is.”
“What you saw and went through defies logic. If you’d like to talk to someone, my mom could give you a number. She hinted around that, but there are good people she knows who you might connect with. I have enough money saved that I can takesomething part-time, just because I love what I do, and I don’t want to stop working. I can also find you another nurse to have on call, but I’d be here too. Just in an unofficial capacity. I can’t work for you and pursue something romantic. That’s a serious breach of ethics.” She presses into my thumb, her lips parting slightly. “You know I’m five years older than you, right?”
“I’m aware.”
“Does that matter?”
“It does, but not in the way you think. Only in good ways. The ways that everything about you matters.”
She smacks my shoulder lightly before she climbs off my lap. I get why she’s putting that space between us. We have a few hard weeks coming, and communication is more important than anything. I want to ease into this, not have mad, wild, super crazy sex. My dick is fully on board for that, begging by trying to punch its way out into the light, but I want the next time to be meaningful. Romantic. Nothing is perfect, but there’s a level ofright for usthat I’d like to get to before we gothere.
“Breakfast,” Carissa whispers. She smacks her thigh, and the dog leaps off the bed and goes bounding after her. “I’ll be right back with it,” she calls down the hallway. “Erm, at least ten minutes to get right back with it. Make yourself at home, Jack.”
God. My name. I don’t even like it, but it’s never sounded so wonderful.
Home? I haven’t truly felt like I had one of those since my grandma died. She never asked if I wanted her to leave the house to me. She put aside a box of sentimental items—photos, jewelry, books, and toys from all ages, but by the time she passed, I already had a house of my own, and I’d moved almost everything to it. She took care of her own affairs so I wouldn’t be burdened with them. She explained it in a letter she left for me in that box. She never wanted to be a burden. She only ever wanted to love me. I didn’t need money. I just needed to know I didn’thave to worry about anything, including her being gone. She never wanted me to be sad. She told me to remember our best times together and stick with that. And write some songs about it, even if the world never hears them, so those memories will be immortalized forever.
She left the house and her small savings to various charities. I loved that she did that and set it all up so I didn’t have to do anything, even though I wanted to.
She was right about everything, as per usual.
I can almost hear her telling me,sweetheart, home isn’t a building. What a funny notion that is.Home is every single memory. A tour bus. A whole family of fans out there supporting me and coming together, united by music. Home is Matt, even if our paths have twisted away in separate directions. Home is Carissa’s smile, her trust, her courage, and her beautiful,beautifulsoul.
