Joss stares at me a moment, then busts out laughing, pressing his face into my pillow. When he looks at me again, his eyes are shining with enough light that the knot ofwhat the fuck did I dofades from my chest. “He gave me a funny look last night too. No one warned me he was bloody Bergerac.”
“Who?”
“TV detective. My nan loved him.”
Silence falls over us. Joss still looks amused, and I remember the message Tanner left.
I relay it, and it seems to dawn on Joss that it’s D-Day for the kitchen. His gaze grows distant as he sits up, and I know I’ve lost him until his long-ass day is over.
Leave him be. I should. I have a busy day of my own to begin. First full day onsite at the jewelry store refit. An errand I promised to run for my mom when I saw her last night. But I feel like there’s more I can do for Joss, and I want to goddamn do it.
I snatch a shower. Then while Joss is taking his turn, I make him breakfast from the squirrel stash of eggs, bacon, and avocados that have become a permanent fixture in my refrigerator. It’s not as effortlessly perfect as every meal he puts in front of me, but it’s good enough to eat.
Running out of time, I scarf mine and track Joss down to his bedroom floor. He’s half-dressed and crouching down, fiddling with the zipper on his bag.
I lean on the doorjamb. “Is it broken?”
“Hmm?”
“The zipper.”
“Yeah.” Joss sits back on his heels, pulling the bag into his lap, deep concentration lining his face. “Fucking thing. It’s been dodgy for ages.”
I watch him work for a second that stretches to a full minute, pondering why the bag is so important when it’s been abandoned on the rug since he got here. Then it dawns on me that he has a million and one things to do today, and his overloaded brain is coping the only way it knows how. “You need that bag right now, bro?”
Nothin’. He’s not hearing me. Maybe he’s forgotten I’m even here, but I’m not offended. He’s warned me about this from day one, and I’ve seen it before. Most times I leave him to it, but he told me the day would come when he’d need an intervention and perhaps that day is today.
I push off the doorjamb and squat behind him. He’s still fixated on the zipper. With one hand on his shoulder, I reach around, take it from him, and set it aside. Then I slide my arm around him and bring my lips to his ear. “I’m intervening.”
Joss tenses, fighting it. Fighting me. Then he gets it, and he laughs. “Fuck. You caught me.”
“You told me what to look out for. Something worrying you about today?”
He leans against me, and I absorb every drop of his body heat. Cram it into the reserves I’ll need when he leaves at the end of the summer. “Not particularly. I just hate anticipation, you know? I’ll be all right once service starts.”
Service is nine hours away, but I feel the change in him as he brings his brain back to earth. The calmness he forces on himself with a deep and grounding breath.
He stands and we rise together. I don’t want to leave him, but I have to go. Besides. He doesn’t need my help. He’s got this. I know it. He knows it.
“I made you breakfast,” I blurt.
Joss grins and instant beams of light hit my fuckin’ soul. “For real?”
“For real. I have to leave, though. You gonna be okay?”
“Are you?” Joss’s smile darkens to something else…something that makes the back of my neck scorch. “We never got around to talking about phase, what is it, four? Of the experiment?”
Blowjobs. He means blowjobs.A weird laugh falls out of me. “Do we need to talk about it?”
“Nope. Not at all. Just checkin’ in, mate.”
He kisses my neck. A light peck that makes me shiver. Then the moment passes, and I really do have to go.
Walking away from him feels strange. It’s usually him heading out while I listen to his hurried and soothing footsteps from my bed. Which is strange in itself. Before him, I was catapulted into every morning by a kick in the balls of anxiety.
Right now, everything I’m worried about is normal fuckin’ shit, and I feel more like myself than I have in months.
Too good to be true.
