Survival.
Desperate hope to put this fucked-up family back together.
“Shit, Micah.” Linden wraps his arms around me, pressing our foreheads together.“Please don’t do that to yourself.Please. I just…I want you to be happy.”
“I am happy,” I croak out, and when our lips meet, I can almost believe it.
Linden, August 4th
Balancing two mugs, I climb the stairs, knocking with my elbow before I use it to nudge open the door to Olli’s room. It’s still funny to see just how much the space has transformed to accommodate the kittens. There’s the usual mess that often spreads from here to the rest of the Nook: medical textbooks with a few romance novels mixed in cover the desk, and discarded clothing lies in a pile in front of the closet. Now, however, a playpen, fenced off with cartons, takes up a significant space, sporting a small litter box in one corner and a water bowl in the other.
The last two furballs are currently lying in a nest of what seems to be a B-Tech hoodie. I hope it’s not one of Micah’s, but don’t comment on it.
“Thanks.” Olli’s shoving papers into piles and closing some of the books to put them back onto the shelf in order to make his desk appear somewhat more orderly.
I hum and put one of the cups down next to him, though the next moment he’s jumping up to kick his laundry into his closet, closing the door for a semblance of tidiness.
“Maybe you should’ve done that yesterday?”
“Ugh, Iknow, but I got really into rereadingTaming—oh, by the way, have you seenKeeping Noahanywhere? I can’t find it.”
“Oh,” I say, taking great care to sip from my coffee before answering. “Yeah, I, uh,borrowedit. It was lying on the kitchen table for a while, and I didn’t think you’d mind.” I can’t help but draw my shoulders up. “Sorry. I can go and get it right now.” I remember seeing it lying on Micah’s side table when he told me about his family a few days ago.
After our heavy conversation, we haven’t found back to our familiarity from my parents’ farm, but at least we're both making an effort to fit short moments in here and there. It's mostly quiet words and lingering touches when we’re readying dinner or washing the dishes afterward, but it helps bridge the distance that has built up.
“Ah, phew! No, no worries. How do you like it?”
I let out a breath, relieved he’s not mad. “It’s good. The characters are honestly really interesting and the uhm…hrm…”
“The sex scenes?” Olli completes my sentence, grinning.
“Yeah, that…they’revery…inspirational!”
Olli nearly spits out the sip of coffee he had just taken, hopping in one spot until he manages to swallow it. “That’s why you took it? For inspiration on what to do with”—thankfully, he lowers his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, wagging his brows—“Micah.”
I groan and hide behind my cup, but it’s not much help. “Stop!” I huff but can barely contain my snort.
Olli’s fidgeting so much that coffee spills over his socks.
“Come on, details! We didn’t even get to gossip the other day. Which chapter? How was it?”
“No!” I shake my head. “And was that the door?” I pretend to cup my hand to my ear when the doorbell actually rings, making both of us stare at each other and then burst into laughter.
“Shit, that must be Fiore,” Olli groans, renewing his efforts to free up his desk as well as more of his floor.
“Oh, the guy you’re working for?”
“Yeah, I had to explain my hours to him, and well…we talked about the kittens, and he’s considering a pet for his kids, so he said he’d like to take a look,” Olli explains while he hastily pushes books and papers into the drawers of his desk.
“That’s good, so you know who they’re going to.” I smile and turn to the stairs. “I’ll let him in,” I call over my shoulder.
As soon as I open the door, the midday heat wafts toward me like the exhale of a volcano. But it isn’t only the glaring warmth that takes my breath away—because with just one look, I get why Nicko and Olli were so invested in talking about Professor Fiore.
The man standing on our porch is gorgeous. Tall, with black hair shining in the sun, the loose shirt and summery chinos fitting his athletic body effortlessly, like he stepped out of a fashion magazine. His skin is tanned, creating a perfect contrast with the light colors of his clothes, not to mention his arms, which show off toned muscles even as they hang relaxed at his sides.
Over the rim of mirrored sunglasses, a pair of golden eyes takes me in. He’s smiling, but there’s an unmistakable strictness to him. Even without having ever set foot into his classroom, I can tell it must be silent as a graveyard whenever he speaks up.
“H-hello,” I stutter, suddenly aware that I am still holding the door. I open it fully and step aside. “Please come in. Olli said you wanted to meet the kittens?”
