“I know.” He winked as he stood. “Keeps things interesting.”
He moved through the room with a quiet certainty, unhurried and at home. Glancing back over his shoulder, he caught me staring, and his smile softened in a way that made my chest do something inconvenient.
“Coffee first,” I called out after him, pulling the sheet up around myself as I shifted onto my side. “I need to be conscious before I can be impressed.”
He laughed quietly.
I lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, trying to catalogue what I was feeling and coming up short. It wasn’t just the afterglow—though my body was still warm and loose and pleasantly sore—it was the ease of this. I hadn’t ever expected any of it.
Addicted, he’d said.
I wasn’t naïve enough to pretend words like that didn’t have weight, but I also wasn’t ready to decide what they meant. Still, I couldn’t stop the small, private smile that curved my mouth as I pulled the sheet closer and breathed him in.
This felt like a morning that could tip either way, into something simple and sweet, or into something I’d remember far longer than I wanted to admit. I wasn’t sure how to deal with it; no one had ever stayed over before. No one had everstayedbefore.
Footsteps padded back down the hall, and he came into the room, a mug in each hand. “Here,” he said. “No pressure to be impressed yet.”
I took it, fingers brushing his, and pushed myself up against the headboard. “You’re doing fine so far.”
He leaned down, pressing a kiss to my forehead. It was easy, familiar, dangerously tender. The sense of safety wrapped around me, and the fear of losing it lingered there too.
“Are you staying in bed?” he asked.
“And miss you making a mess of my kitchen? Never.”
I quickly pulled on his t-shirt and followed him. There was something hypnotic about watching him move around my space, barefoot and shirtless, humming while he cracked eggs into a bowl and rummaged around my space so easily. Which, again, should’ve been alarming. Instead, I found myself leaning in, watching the whole thing like it was my favorite TV show.
The omelet he eventually set down in front of me was genuinely impressive.
“Does the lady approve?”
I swallowed another mouthful, reluctantly impressed. “You’re allowed to come back.”
He grinned at me and took another bite of his food too. “Glad to hear it.”
Normal, this was all so… normal.
After breakfast, we showered together, then he finally left the apartment later that afternoon. I hated to admit that my place was emptier, even more so that I noticed at all.
36
Connor
“I know, Mam, I’ve sent flowers to Cait’s house for her birthday,” I said, pacing around my place, which was technically all the same. Yet, it felt different somehow. Probably because the last few times I’d been here over the last month, and not at Teddy’s place, she was with me. Granted, we mostly spent time together in her bed, shower, couch… but still, I swear I could smell her here.
“Good, love, I’m glad. What ones did you pick for her?”
Oh god, I had no fucking idea. “They were white and pink?”
“Oh, that narrows it down,” Mam said dryly. “White and pink could be anything. Roses? Lilies? Gerberas?”
I winced, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Mam. I clicked the one that saidBirthday Bunch.”
There was a beat of silence. I could practically hear her blinking at the phone. “Well, I’m sure they’re lovely.”
Only those words spoken by my mother could assure me that she knew my sister would expect more effort from me. “I’ll makeit up to her,” I said. “I’ll babysit and give her my credit card to go for dinner with Trent.”
“That’ll do nicely,” she said with a chuckle, pleased. “How are you feeling about the next game?”
