“You smell fine.”
“Liar.” But he was smiling when he disappeared down the hall.
I unpacked while the water ran, sorting laundry, putting away the snacks we hadn’t finished. My phone buzzed again. This time I looked: a text from my sister.
Mom’s asking if you’re coming for Thanksgiving. I told her I didn’t know. Are you?
I stared at the message until the screen went dark. Thanksgiving was three weeks away. The thought of sitting across from my parents, pretending everything was fine while they cataloged my failures, made my stomach clench. I’d rather spend the holiday with Tanner, but he had family who genuinely loved him. It’d be weird to lobby for an invite to his celebration. Right?
Tanner emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam, wearing one of my old T-shirts and sleep shorts that hung low on his hips. He walked straight to me, wrapped his arms around my waist, and pressed his face into my chest.
“Thank you,” he said, voice muffled. “For this weekend.”
I held on and didn’t think about Thanksgiving.
He didn’t pull away. Didn’t retreat the way I’d expected.
“Stay with me tonight,” he said. Not a question. His eyes held something raw—hope edged with fear, like he was offering me a piece of himself he couldn’t take back.
My chest ached. “Every night. As long as you’ll have me.”
His breath caught. For a moment, he just looked at me, and I watched him let go of whatever argument he’d been building against this—against us.
“Good.” His voice dropped. “I sleep better when you’re next to me.”
He kissed me—brief, tasting like mint—and headed toward his room. I stood in the kitchen longer than I should have, my phonebuzzing on the counter. Another voicemail notification from my mother. I deleted it without listening.
My phone buzzed again. Marcus this time.
You back yet? Grab a beer?
I glanced toward the hallway and heard Tanner moving around in his room. We’d been in the car together for hours. He probably wanted space.
Yeah. Give me 20.
Tanner appeared in the doorway as I was grabbing my keys. “Going somewhere?”
“Marcus wants to meet up. You good if I head out for a bit?”
“Go.” He waved me off, already settling on the couch with his laptop. “I need to organize my notes from Lincoln anyway.”
The bar was half-empty,a Sunday night lull that left plenty of space between us and the nearest occupied table. Marcus slid a beer across to me before I’d even sat down.
“You look different,” he said, studying me. “Lighter.”
“Just relaxed. Good trip.”
“Uh-huh.” He took a long pull from his bottle. “Wilmington treat you well?”
“Yeah. Hunter’s got a place near the beach. He’s loving it down there.”
“Bet he is.” Marcus grinned. “Man, I still can’t believe he went pro. Remember when he dropped that wide-open pass against State junior year? Coach almost had a stroke.”
“He’s come a long way.”
“Your roommate go with you?”
I reached for my beer, keeping my hands busy. “He wanted to show Lincoln some research. Needed time with Hunter too.”
