You are lucky you’re my best friend, bitch.
CHAPTER 12
NICKY
“You have tampons and pads in the bathroom.”
Bea exits the downstairs guest room, an adorable look of confusion playing on her face. Her thumb is hitched over her shoulder when she meets me in the hall.
“Was that a question?” I ask, steering us toward the living room. I glance out the glass panel at the top of the front door to see the snow is still falling rapidly. I made the right decision by insisting she stay here; it definitely isn’t safe for her to be on the road. After crossing the carpet toward the couch, I snag a plush blanket from the back cushions before sitting down.
“Your daughter is five.” Now there’s a question in her voice as she drops down next to me. I throw the blanket over her lap, tucking her in. Bea’s watching me closely, and I sigh.
“Yeah, and research shows puberty is occurring earlier and earlier, leading to menstruation before the age of eleven for some girls. I want her to see what’s available and build familiarity in the comfort of her own home. I want her to know where things are, should she need them,” I explainas nonchalantly as possible. Bea is fascinated, examining me closely, but I sense disbelief in the corner of her eyes.
“Wow. Really?”
“No, that’s bullshit—not the puberty thing,” I correct. “I have them because I figure if women keep condoms in their homes just in case, I can keep period products in mine.” I shrug, then lift one arm to rest against the back of the couch behind her. I love when she leans against my side with the unspoken invitation. “Anyway, there are other things in there, too. Toothbrushes. Mouthwash. Hair ties. Use whatever you need while you’re here.”
“Thank you,” Bea acknowledges.
I drop my hand to curl around her shoulder, enjoying the freedom to finally hold her with such casual intimacy. Not being able to touch her the way I’ve wanted to since the party has been eating away at my sanity, and nearly creating a new callous on my hand from how often I’ve jerked myself off thinking about her. But I don’t want to be presumptuous about what having her stay in my house tonight means. It’s why I showed her the guest bedroom—even though I’d rather have her in bed next to me tonight. I asked her to stay because I want her to be safe. Not because I want to bury my cock in her to see if she feels like home.Definitely not that.
Moments pass in comfortable silence, the electric fireplace throwing an orange glow across the room. Mixed with the multicolored hues from the Christmas tree I haven’t bothered to take down, the room has a soft ambient light. I reach for the discarded television remote on the cushion next to me, pushing a few buttons to turn on quiet background music from a streaming platform. Bea snuggles deeper into me, letting her head rest on my chest since she doesn’t reach my shoulder.
“I really liked spending time with Nat today. Thank you for trusting me with her.”
I try to look at her face, but I can only see the slope of her nose and the curve of her cheek from where I’m sitting. Her voice is infused with hesitant warmth. “Nat really likes being with you, and I love that you’re equally as willing to be around her. I don’t expect everyone in my life to accept my kid, but I feel lucky so far that it’s worked out that way.”
“Growing up, I didn’t have what she does.” Bea’s tone shifts to something sadder. I can’t help but bring my other arm around her, as though I can protect her from things that have already happened. “That connection you have with her; she knows you’d do anything for her. Notbuyanything, notprovideanything, but you’dbeanything she needs. You show up and love her endlessly, while surrounding her with people who can do the same thing.”
“Your parents missed out on being around an amazing person,” I tell her honestly. “A kind, generous, witty, brilliant, and beautiful person.” She finally tilts her head up so I can see her. Her smile is thin, but her eyes are misty with gratitude. “Want to tell me more about them? Your parents?”
“Not really,” she begins, her arm looping around my middle. “I’ve told you I was more of an expectation that became an obligation, and it doesn’t go much past that. At least not until I met Violet; then I saw that family was more than meeting the requirements of propriety. It was eye-opening to learn parents actuallywantedto be around their children. Even if Cal couldn’t physically be around Violet, he would call and check in. His care didn’t abruptly start and stop just because she wasn’t in sight. When I made the decision to move here, I think, subconsciously, I also made the decision to leave my parents behind, too.” Bea sighs. “Of course, that madethemsuddenly have an interest in absolutely everything about my life. Couldn’t have bothered with the previous twenty-six years, but the last eight months?—”
She cuts herself off bitterly. I feel angry on her behalf. I can’t imagine how isolating and lonely it must have been growing up with such emotionally detached parents. My mom might not have been around a lot, but I have always known she loves me. She answered every time I called with newborn questions about Natalia, and I still feel like if I ever truly needed her, she’d be there.
I sit patiently until Bea is ready to speak again. I don’t offer apologies, just a quiet space of support, any preconceived ideas for her stay abandoned.
“My life so far has been like putting together a puzzle. The pieces are pre-cut, interconnecting to form a perfect picture. It’s designed by someone else…capable of being finished only if you follow the necessary steps. Pleasethatperson’s vision.” Bea sounds hollow now, carved out and empty. “When you do, no one looks at it anymore. It’s just…done.”
A single tear falls fast, dropping before she can stop it. It seems to be a tipping point for the anger that flits across her face. A gritty, tired growl rumbles in her throat before she clears all emotion away. Her lips part with an uneasy sigh, resignation settling into her shoulders as she finishes. “It gets broken apart, boxed up, and put away.”
I bring a hand up to cradle her face, holding her with the same gentleness I give Natalia when she’s been hurt and my words are not enough to soothe. Because I know, as I look into Bea’s beautiful brown eyes, nothing I say can make this better. Her injury—her pain—isn’t one fixed with platitudes and a kiss. So I don’t say anything, I just hold her, and she lets me. Tight and safe against my chest, my fingers weaving through her curls until I can separate out the individual patterns.
“I didn’t know what a real family was for a long time,” she says in a whisper. “And I think it’s something I tried to chase through my relationships—like if I could keep a man, it wouldsomehow dull that hurt I had inside of me. But it never did.” A tiny, humorless giggle shakes her shoulders before she turns her head to press a kiss against my chest.
This evening isn’t exactly what I pictured when I insisted Bea stay. The flashes of heated kisses and exploring touches I had when I made the request are long forgotten. Replaced by a deeper connection from the confessions she’s made and the warmth that radiates from the impression of her lips over my heart.
I really should tryto get some sleep.
Coach messaged to say we’re still scheduled for a skate tomorrow afternoon—unless the roads don’t manage to be cleared. But the snow has let up in the last hour, so Ishouldrest because the municipal crews should be able to make the roads safe. Except as I stare at the ceiling, shadows of the snowfall dancing from the outside lights, I know it’s no use.
Not when she’s in my house.
I sit up, swinging my legs over the side of my bed. I tell myself I’m just going to check and make sure everything’s okay. Especially after our heavy conversation. I’d finally convinced her to go to bed when I felt tiny snores vibrating over my chest when she fell asleep. I just want to ensure she’s settled in the guest bedroom. It’s no different than when I peek in on Natalia before I go to bed at night. I forgo a shirt, leaving my room in just the black joggers I had on earlier.
These thoughts help me justify every step I take along the soft runner of the hallway and down the stairs to the main floor.Just a quick look.To the right, a sliver of golden light spills into the hallway from the guest room’s door. It’s slightly ajar, so I hesitate.Maybe she fell asleep with the light on.A shadow moves across the floor, and before I can scamper away like a scolded child, the door opens.
