“That’s fine.”
“And I’m particular about the apartment. I like things clean and organized. I have systems for how everything goes.”
“I can work with that.”
“I have nightmares sometimes. About my dad. I might wake you up.”
“Okay.”
He studied me like he was trying to figure out if I was lying. “Why do you want to live with me?”
I could have said something practical. Something about rent, location, or convenience. Instead, I told him the truth. “Hunter says you’re a good person. I trust Hunter’s judgment.”
Tanner blinked, something vulnerable crossing his face before he hid it. “Okay. Yeah. Let’s do this.”
We’d moved our stuff in two weeks later, and I’d spent the first month trying to figure out how to share space with someone who carried grief like a second skin.
The answer, I’d discovered, was to just be there. Made coffee in the morning. Leave food within reach when he forgot to eat. Touch his shoulder when he got too far into his own head. Give him space when he needed it and presence when he didn’t want to be alone.
It wasn’t complicated. It wasn’t enough.
But it was what I had.
As soon asI turned my phone back on, it came to life with messages.
You alive?
Mostly. Tanner’s making me ice my ribs.
Of course he is. You two are disgustingly domestic.
Fuck off.
Come to Wilmington for fall break. John wants to see you.
I glanced at Tanner, who was absorbed in whatever he was reading.
Maybe. I’ll ask Tanner. The guy needs to take a fucking break.
Jesus Christ. You’ve got it bad.
I didn’t answer. Didn’t need to. Hunter knew.
When the timer went off, Tanner swapped the heating pad for the ice pack, his movements efficient and gentle. This time, his fingers lingered a second longer than necessary against my ribs.
“Better?” he asked.
“Yeah. Thanks.”
He nodded and retreated back to the armchair, but something had shifted. The air felt heavier, charged with all the things we weren’t saying.
I watched him read, memorizing the way he bit his lower lip when he was concentrating, the way his hair fell across his forehead. The way he looked small and lost in the oversized chair, like he was trying to take up as little space as possible.
I wanted to cross the room and pull him onto my lap. Wanted to feel him relax against me, wanted to tuck his head under my chin and breathe him in.
Wanted things I had no right to want.
“Seth?”
