‘Shhh, you’re about to be amazed.’
He clicked a few buttons on the screen and waited. A soft whirring noise started from the end of the bed.
‘Holy shit.’ I sat up as a huge flatscreen the width of the bed rose up from the large footboard I had initially just thought was part of the bed frame. ‘That’s so cool.’
Oliver cocked his head with a curious expression on his face. As if he was trying to gauge whether I was joking or not. ‘You think?’
I nodded at the gigantic screen. ‘I’m so jealous.’
He frowned. ‘You don’t have a TV do you?’
I shook my head. ‘Just my laptop.’
Oliver gasped dramatically. ‘Heathen.’
I chuckled and slid back down next to him. Surprisingmyself at how comfortable I was already in Oliver’s bed. He wrapped his arm around me once more, holding me close.
‘What do you want to watch?’ he asked, flicking through his phone.
I shrugged. ‘I don’t mind. You pick.’
The TV turned on, lighting up both of our faces. A familiar voice drifted through the speakers.
‘David Attenborough? I didn’t take you for a documentary kinda guy.’
‘What kinda guy did you take me for?’
‘Hmm, action movies with a secret soft spot for rom coms.’
He laughed softly. ‘Sorry to disappoint. My mum always-’ He trailed off.
‘Oliver?’ I breathed.
His heart sped up under my ear. ‘Yeah, uh, my mum loved these shows. I think she found his voice calming.’
I felt his body tense as he hesitated—deciding whether to carry on or not. I held my breath and waited.
‘When she got sick, she couldn’t really move around that much. Everything hurt, so we installed a huge TV in my parents bedroom and she’d spend hours watching these documentaries. I think it distracted her from her pain, for a little while at least.’
My chest ached for his family. ‘Did you watch them with her?’
‘She couldn’t sleep most nights, and she was hooked up to so many wires that my dad slept in the spare room. She wanted him to sleep and with all the beeping it made it difficult, but I could tell she got lonely without him there at night. There wasn’t much I could do to help her, but I’d call her every night and we’d watch Blue Planet together as she fell asleep.’
‘When did she pass?’
He cleared his throat. ‘Four years ago.’
The wordsI’m sorrywere on the tip of my tongue. I bit them back, knowing they were empty words. You couldn’t ease someone’s grief withsorry.Oftentimes, the only person it helped was you. A way to fill the silence—a show that you knew what someone was going through.
But I didn’t know. I couldn’t even fathom the pain he must have been in when his mother passed. The pain hestillwas in.
‘You really loved her.’ It wasn’t a question. It bled through every word he spoke.
‘Yeah, I did. Still do.’
I shifted down the bed, nestling my face in the crease between his neck and shoulder, inhaling his scent.
‘Now who’s sniffing?’ He chuckled.
