He nodded.
I poked my head into the bathroom, wondering how Brooks avoided hitting his head on the ceiling when he showered. The bedroom had a small closet, and the bed had drawers for clothes and storage.
I slowly sat down on the bed and looked at him and shook my head.
“What?” he asked, taking the spot next to me.
“You can’t live here,” I commanded.
He raised his brows. “I can’t?”
“No.”
I shot up and began opening drawers and pulling out his clothes and putting them on the bed.
“What are you doing, Freckles?”
“You’re moving in with me.”
He paused. “I am?”
I nodded. “Yes. I’m sorry that you’re going to have to commute in the mornings, but that’s the way it has to be.”
“I don’t live in a trailer because I’m poor,” he said. “I live in a trailer because it’s convenient.”
“It’s impermanent,” I stated. “You can hitch it up to your truck and leave any time you want.”
“Poet, stop,” he commanded, gently clasping my wrist and forcing me to still. “What’s this about? You afraid I’m gonna hitch up and leave one day?”
I swallowed and looked at him. “No. I don’t think you’d do that.”
“Then what?—”
“This isn’t a home, Brooks.” My voice broke. “It might be convenient and easy, but the windows are small, and I bet you don’t get much sunlight in here.”
“I don’t spend a lot of time in here.”
“I know the apartment isn’t much bigger than your RV,” I said slowly. “But it has one thing that your RV doesn’t have.”
“What’s that?” he asked quietly.
I looked at him. “Me.” I swallowed. “Move in with me, Brooks. Let’s get some plants and frilly curtains for the windows. Let’s?—”
He silenced me with his mouth before I could go any further. And then he was pulling me down onto the bed on top of his neatly folded clothes.
“You sure?” he asked when he lifted his head from mine.
I nodded.
“This is a really big step,” he said.
“You got my period products,” I reminded him. “All our steps are leaps.”
He grinned and then kissed me again, before getting off me.
I sat up.
“What was that?” he asked. “Back there?”
