“Terra’s really nice,” Chloe says, bringing my mind back to the present. “You have a big family, huh?”
“Two brothers, Terra and now Nova, who married my oldest brother,” I tell her. “And Jake, who has been an honorary Hawkins since he was like fourteen and now dates Terra. How about you? Any sisters or brothers?”
“Only child,” she explains. “My mom died when I was nineteen and my dad four years later.”
“That’s brutal.” I feel my heart aching for her, and I know my face is a mask of sympathy. No matter what I’ve put them through, my parents have always been my biggest support system and my best friends in a lot of ways. If I lost them when I was as young as Chloe was, I’d never have come out of the tailspin my life was in.
Chloe walks back into the bedroom, and this time I follow her. “I’ve learned to hold onto the good memories. There were a lot. They were good people and great parents.”
She sits on the edge of her bed and glances up at me with another uncertain look on her face. “I want to change the subject and get back to the fact you went to med school, but I’m so damn tired. Can I sleep now?”
“Yes. For an hour,” I say. She’s already started to crawl under the covers, and she groans. “I know that sucks, but it’s the only way to make sure your concussion isn’t getting worse.”
I watch her long eyelashes flutter against her cheeks as she struggles to stay awake. “What’s your favorite color?”
“What? Why?” she murmurs.
“I need to ask you questions when I wake you to make sure you’re coherent,” I explain and resist the urge to tug up the blankets and tuck her in. She just looks so cute and vulnerable right now.
“Blush.”
“Like pink?”
“Only lighter. Blush.”
“That’s very specific,” I can’t help but comment.
She curls up on her side. “I’m a graphic designer and web designer. It’s all about specifics. I like specifics.”
Her voice is barely a whisper and then her eyelashes stop fluttering as soon as the last word leaves her mouth, and I know she’s out like a light. I walk out of the room, leaving the door wide open and the hall light on, and head downstairs. My phone is on the table with the grocery bag I hastily stuffed with sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt when I was downstairs grabbing Chewie and my bathing suit.
I debate leaving the pups downstairs but worry they’ll fuss, so I bring them upstairs with me. I glance through Chloe’s open bedroom door. She’s fast asleep, curled up on her side. I head into the room next door and leave the door open but put Boss and Stevie on the bed with me so they don’t wander in there and wake her up. My phone goes off, but luckily I had put it on vibrate when I was working at the lobster shack, so it doesn’t make a loud pinging sound. I glance at it and see a text from Cookie as well as a missed call. I cringe. She’s getting pissed. I can’t say I blame her. You ignore your AA sponsor long enough, they will come looking for you.
Logan, bud. Between missing meetings and now dodging calls, I’m worried. You got 24 hrs and then I hunt you down.
I quickly type her back.
I’m good. Fam biz and work. Also finally got my own place. Will call tomorrow. Promise.
I don’t mention I would have answered her call if I wasn’t washing my landlord’s hair, although Cookie would get a hell of a kick out of it if I did. She’d also call me relentlessly until I answered, and I don’t want to chat. My voice might wake Chloe. I sit on the bed, put my phone on the night table, and look around.
The guest room is sparsely furnished with just one night table next to the queen size sleigh bed and a tallboy dresser in the corner. Chewie curls up on the rug by the bed. Stevie and Boss walk around the bed, stepping all over me for a couple minutes before settling. Boss sleeps at my feet and Stevie is up near my elbow. I doze for forty-five minutes until my alarm goes off on my phone.
I get up and walk into Chloe’s room. I sit on the edge of the bed, next to her knees which are tucked up. I brush back some of her hair from her forehead so it doesn’t stick to her wound. God, her hair is soft. I can’t remember the last time I ran my hands through a woman’s hair. It was probably Bethany, and I was probably drunk, which is why I don’t remember it.
“Chloe?” I whisper and move my hand to her shoulder. I give her a gentle little shake.
“Mmm…” she murmurs sweetly.
“I need you to look at me,” I say, and her eyes flutter open. “Do you know who I am?”
“The guy whose shoes I barfed on,” she says, and I smile.
“Do you know what day it is?”
“Friday. Unless it’s after midnight then Saturday,” she says sleepily. “Can I sleep again?”
I nod and stand up. “Sweet dreams.”
