I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling.
Pratt wrecked me. He lay beside me, warm and calm, breathing returning to normal.
"Okay," I said.
He turned his head slightly. "Yes."
"That's it? That's all you've got?"
"What would you prefer?"
I ran through all the things he could have said. None of them sounded like Pratt. I let all of it go.
"Nothing, actually," I said. "That was the right answer."
He moved an inch closer, settling his shoulder against mine.
At some point, my breathing evened out completely. Pratt reached for my hand and wove our fingers together as his breathing slowed further.
An image of Bryan entered my head uninvited. He was twenty-one, standing in the doorway of our dorm room, watching me get ready to go out.Sul, do you ever consider slowing down?
I didn't, but I thought:I'm not moving right now.
I wished he were around to talk about it.Professional athlete, Bry—can you believe it?
Pratt's breathing was slow and even.
I turned my head and looked at him. His eyes were closed and his face relaxed in a way I'd never seen. He was quiet, not assessing.
Somewhere down the hall an elevator arrived and departed. The building settled into itself. Pratt's fingers still curled into mine.
I closed my eyes.
I lay there in my quiet condo, more still than I had been in three years, thinking about Pratt waking up tomorrow inmybed. I would make coffee, and neither of us would need to knock on the other's door.
