Thoughts seem to shudder behind his expression. His lips press into a thin, pained line.
Something pulls tight in my stomach, urging me closer to him, and it only takes me a heartbeat to decide. With a little rearranging, I tuck myself under his arm, the duvet draped over both of us. I rest my head on his chest and feel his deep sigh rumble against my cheek.
He smells like the woods in summer, and I savor it. Let it transport me back to a time when life was much simpler. When we were building forts in the trees behind the farm, promising our parents that the five of us would sleep out there all night. When we were racing to the river, delirious on sugar and sunshine after eating orange Popsicles on the porch, pink cheeks and sticky fingers.
Layla hops onto the couch and curls herself into a warm croissant at my feet. Knocks’s judgmental glare burns into me from across the living room, but I ignore him.
The weight of the last few hours is heavy in my chest, but the longer I spend pressed to Theo’s side, the more tension flows out of my muscles. And it seems to be the case for him too. He slowly relaxes, slumping farther into the couch with each exhale. This should feel strange—cocooned in his flannel and a blanket, with his fingers grazing my shoulder—but it’s surprisingly cozy.
My eyelids are drooping by the time his deep voice breaks the silence. “How’s your head?”
“A little better.” I sigh. “I’m dreading going all the way upstairs though.”
He shifts against me, almost like he’s getting more comfortable. “Go to sleep, Fabes. I’ve got you,” he whispers.
Distantly, I wonder if his fingers are slipping through the ends of my hair, but I’m asleep before I can figure it out.
Chapter 17
Theo
Turns out, farm labor in the early morning is more of a workout than my usual run. Between chasing goats and hauling lumber, Fable’s dad and I are working up a sweat, despite the cool, misty air. Layla’s wandering the garden with Fable’s mom, Mary, while Dave and I fix the fence on one side of the goat pen. He didn’t seem surprised at all when I strolled up in place of his daughter—simply hugged me and put me to work.
His phone dings in his pocket, and he sets down his drill to grab it. A snort of laughter barrels out of him. “Seems Fable’s finally awake. She says, ‘Sorry I’m late! Be right there.’” He peers at me under the brim of his blue cap. “Should I give her a hard time for sleeping in?”
I can’t help smiling as I remember the sight of her in bed this morning. Long lashes fanned over her cheekbones. Hair in a wild tangle on her pillow. Sleeping so soundly I couldn’t wake her. “Nah.” I toss a broken fence board into the trash pile. “She was exhausted.”
Dave types a response, then almost immediately, my phone buzzes.
Fable:Really?! Why didn’t you wake me up?
Theo:You looked so peaceful, sleeping beauty.
Fable:Did you carry me to my bed last night?!
Theo:No, that was Layla.
Fable:??
Fable:I’m coming over there.
Theo:You want to explain how you got that bandage on your head? ??
I snap a selfie of me crouched by a fence post and Dave in the background, both of us thumbs-up, grinning.
Theo:We’re almost done. Don’t worry about it.
That goes unanswered. Iimagine her scowling down at her phone. Letting out that adorable, stubborn growl of hers.
It’s a shame I’m not there to hear it.
Dave and I get into a groove for a bit. Igrab boards and hold them in place, he drills in the screws, then we move to the next.
“Is Fable doing all right?” Dave asks after a few minutes.
I’m so startled by the question that I nearly drop the next board. It’s strange to be the one who might know the answer to that. In some ways, I barely know her, and in other ways... well, I feel like I always have.
But I don’t know how much she shares with her family. I havea hard time believing Dave knows about the broken stairs or the unsafe railing, because he’d be over there fixing them right now. Do they know she’s barely moved into that place? That Gramps’s things are still in boxes, and she only has the bare minimum of her stuff taking up the cabinets and drawers? Do they notice how sad her eyes get every time Gramps comes into the conversation? Do they know how hard she is on herself? How many times I’ve seen her cry in the last week and a half?
