“Whoa, wait.” Whatever he’s doing, wherever he’s going, he skids to a stop and gives me his undivided attention. “Are you crying? What’s wrong?”
“I’m not crying.”Liar, liar. “I-I was hoping you could help me out with something. You live so close, and you mentioned that thing earlier about being Ry’s proxy and all that.”
“Do you have another man with a small penis in your home? Because I dunno, Nov. I’m not sure I wanna be that guy for you.”
“No.” I choke out a pathetic laugh, swiping the torrent of tears streaming free now that the floodgates are open. “No one is here. But I’m having a problem with my electricity. Now it’s dark, and I didn’t realize how much that bothered me until right this minute.”
“You’re scared?” His voice softens to a croon that weaves through my veins, like a hug freely given. Worse yet, a hug willfully accepted. “There’s nothing to be scared of, okay? You got your claw hammer close?”
“God.” I giggle, though the sound is broken and sad. “I could get the hammer, I suppose. But mostly I was looking for someone to talk me through a power box thing.” I hold my breath and hope, pray, mentally beg, and prepare to barter, if it means bringing electricity back into my home. “I know there are breakers and stuff outside in the box, and I know they should face ‘on.’ One of them wasn’t, so I flipped it, but when I try to turn my lights on inside, the power cuts out, and thebreaker goes back to the ‘off’again. Can you, um…” Slowly, on shaking legs and with an annoying hiccup clawing along my throat, I push up the wall and stand tall. “I’ll go outside, and maybe you can talk me through it?”
“I’ll come over.”
“No, that’s okay. You don’t have to do that. I just wanted you to talk me through?—”
“I’ll come over,” he repeats, firmer this time. “I’m only a minute away, so take a breath and wipe your face.”
My jaw trembles as fresh, hot tears make my vision blurry.
“I’ll be knocking in just a minute, okay? Stay inside until I’m there.”
“Are you sure?” I peek into the dark hall and carefully walk through my living room to stop by the front door. But I don’t open it wide, and I sure as shit don’t step outside. “It’s getting kinda late, Lincoln. I feel bad.”
“It’s not even eight-thirty,” he teases, the rumble of an engine coming to life on his side of the line, and the crunch of gravel beneath tires following right after. “Are you twenty-seven years old, or eighty-seven? Anyone on this side of fifty isn’t allowed to consider thiskinda late.”
“Shut up.” Sniffling, I stare through the glass panes at the side of the door and catch the telltale beam of a car’s headlights coming along the road. They could be anyone’s. They could be no one’s. But my heart stutters and works faster. Because Iknowthey’re his.
As ridiculous as the thought is, I know he’s coming to help.
“H-Have you eaten yet?” I stammer. “Are you hungry?”
“What?”
God. So dumb. So dumb!“I know how cliché this all appears,and knowing my luck, you’ll get here and flip the breaker, and everything will be fine, which’ll make me look insanely stupid. But I was gonna say I could order something. You know, like athank youfor helping me with the power thing.”
“Did you turn the power off so you’d have an excuse to invite me over?” he taunts. “Is this one of those things where you’re too shy to say something outright, so you manufactured a reason to call?”
“No! I?—”
“Then you’re having a genuine crisis, and even if the crisis is easily solved, I promise not to consider you stupid or cliché or any other shitty thing you’re thinking. I know Ryan was your guy for home stuff.”
“Really?” I choke out a horrifying sob as his headlights slow out front and turn into my driveway. “You knew that?”
“We were pals, remember? Do you know how many times he told me about talking his baby sister through a home improvement situation? Like the time your dishwasher stopped working.”
“M-my dishwasher?” My stomach jumps as he cuts the light outside and pushes his door open. “You must be thinking of someone else’s annoying sister, because I’m a pro with kitchen appliances. Maybe you mean when the hot water went haywire and flooded my bathroom?”
“Yeah.” He slams his door, one hand pressed to his ear, and the small light of his phone screen illuminates the side of his face. Then he turns this way and makes a beeline for the porch steps. “Must’ve been thinking about the hot water system. That you in the window, Nova?” He stomps up the stairs and across the ten feet to the front door. “Having glass at your entryway isdangerous. Anyone could smash it and let themselves in, and it removes your privacy, so you can’t ascertain the identity of your visitor without revealing yourself first.”
“You sound just like your proxy.”Damn him.I end our call and flip the locks for the first time in days. Dragging the heavy wood open and staring up at the man who stands almost an entire foot taller than me, I find gratitude in the darkness as fresh tears fill my eyes. “Hey.” My voice shakes pathetically. “Thanks for coming.”
“Permission to do the brotherly thing and pull you in for a hug?” He wraps his broad hand around the back of my head and tugs me closer without waiting for a response, careful not to touch my aching wounds or drying stitches. Crushing my face against his broad, steady chest, he squeezes just a little tighter when my breath catches. “You’re doing great.” He rests his cheek on top of my head, warming my scalp with his breath. “These are all new experiences for you now that he’s gone. You’re doing so well, Nova.”
“He would’ve talked me through fixing the issue.” I bury my face against his shirt and try, so fucking hard, not to inhale his cologne and create an all-new toxic dependence on a man who won’t stay. Iknowhe won’t. “I hate how often I cry lately.” Sniffling and pulling back, I wipe my face and avoid his gaze. “I’m not like this normally. In fact, I pride myself on thethere’s no crying in baseballphilosophy. I’m exceptionally gifted at dissociation. But every time I go to call my brother, or I turn to say something, and remember he’s not there anymore…”
“I get it.” He sets his hand on my shoulder and folds his neck, his black eyes like a light, almost, in the dark shadows. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”
“Bet no one cries at war.” I back away, forcing his hand to fall before I embarrass myself more. “You’re probably accustomed to men charging towardactuallife-and-death stuff. But here I am, a blubbering idiot because the power went out.”
