I have no idea how this is going to work. Every time I’ve been here before, I’ve slept with him. Every time I’ve been here before, I’ve left without him. This is no different, and I know it. Not even if he’s being nice or thoughtful or considerate—it changes nothing in the long game.
Machlan watches me. The longer it takes, the wider his grin gets. Only when it’s stretched ear-to-ear does he cross his arms over his toned chest and laugh. “I didn’t realize you were so dehydrated.”
“Yeah,” I say, setting the glass down. Sucking in oxygen in a wild gasp, I shrug. “Really thirsty.”
“Or really avoiding my question.”
“No, no, no.” I get up and gather our glasses and put them in the dishwasher. There’s a dishrag in the sink. I use it to wipe a few crumbs off the counter but stop when Machlan’s hand rests on my shoulder.
“I didn’t bring you here to clean up after me.”
The rag goes into the sink with a plop. I look at him in the reflection in the window.
“You clean when you’re nervous,” he says, holding my gaze. “Why?”
“I feel like maybe I should go back to the apartment.”
His abs ripple as he chuckles. I try to ignore them and the way my stomach clenches.
“You want to go back now?” he asks. “Why?”
I spin around, letting the panic hit. “I’ve talked a good game. Better than I thought I could, really. But I don’t know if I can do this,” I jabber. “Coming home with you doesn’t feel like just sex, which we’ve talked about, and now that I’m here, I think it’s a terrible idea. I think I’m gonna wake up in the morning and—”
“Breathe,” he says. He takes in a lungful of air and blows it out, encouraging me to do the same. “See that? That’s how you don’t sound like a lunatic. You breathe between words. Try it.”
I make a face. “I don’t sound that crazy, do I?”
“Yes.” He bends forward until he’s inches from my face. “You do.”
He steps back and really takes me in. When he usually does this, it feels like he sees all the way through me. Right now, though, it feels like he’s wrapping me in a warm blanket.
Under the haze of the yellow-hued light bulb in the kitchen, I relax. And as I do that, I realize how easy it would be to totally relax, to fall into his bed or into some fantasy like I usually do.
No matter how good this feels, how right, it’s still me and Machlan. Nothing has changed there. I have to remember that.
“I’ll sleep on the couch,” I say.
“You will not.” He turns toward the hallway.
“I’m not sleeping with you.” I follow him out of the kitchen, flipping the light off as I go. The hallway is dark, and I can only make out his silhouette as I go. He takes a left, and the light comes on in his bedroom.
It’s decorated as I remember. A slate gray bedspread stretches over his king-size mattress. Four pillows lay at the top with black and white pillowcases. There’s a television facing the bed and a dresser beneath it. A chair sits in the corner with a pair of jeans thrown over the back.
He disappears into his closet and comes back out with a handmade quilt. “I’ll sleep on the couch.” His irritation is palpable.
“What do you want?”
“I’m just taking your cues.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“Yeah, well, that question sounds a whole lot bigger than where I want to sleep.” He looks at me before shaking his head and disappearing back in the closet.
A yawn comes out of nowhere. I stretch overhead, too tired to spar with him anymore. My bottom sinks into the soft mattress. Blinking back the tears that spring with another good, deep yawn, I lie back on the soft blankets.
Everything smells like him. It’s like being in a cloud of Machlan, and it’s the most comfortable I’ve been in forever.
Rolling on my side, my knees to my chest, I let my eyes fall closed.
The sound of a blanket being dropped whispers through the room. My head is so tired, so calm, I can’t open my eyes to see what Machlan’s doing.
Every second that goes by, the farther I fall into the abyss.
The bed dips. I feel a warmth settle over me like a blanket is tugged over my body.
I barely hear it when Machlan’s voice whispers, “You look really pretty tonight.”
“You make really good grilled cheese …”
I wonder if I’m dreaming, or if he’s really there.
If it’s a dream, maybe I won’t wake up.
Twenty-Four
Machlan
Bacon.
My eyes open one at a time.
The house smells like bacon and eggs.
The light is too bright for eleven on a Sunday morning.
I’m on the wrong side of the bed.
My head twists on the pillow I only use when I pull it against me in the middle of the night, and I remember why—Hadley.
Glancing at the clock, I realize I’ve missed church. I only fell asleep a couple of hours before services would’ve started. After picking Hadley up and laying her under the covers, I stretched out and watched her sleep because I sure couldn’t.
This is a blessing and a curse. It’s like the time Blaire sent me a bottle of a particular Kentucky bourbon you can’t ever find. It’s top-shelf stuff that masks the alcohol content with big splashes of vanilla and caramel. Drinking it is like a gift, but the hangover the next day is akin to hell.
Sleeping in the same bed as Hadley is a present. Having her leave today will feel like I’ve been robbed of everything I actually give a damn about. Because fuck if I don’t.
It’s really, really hard to keep my distance. It’s so easy with her. She knows everything about me, knows how to talk to me and when to joke around and when to let it be. If God asked me to design a woman for myself, I’d just point at Hadley and say, “Yeah, you already did.”
It never gets easier to realize you can’t take care of someone like they need. That you’ll inevitably embarrass them or fail them in ways you haven’t imagined yet. That fear sits in my core, positioned in a place it gets rubbed every time I start to get comfortable with Had. It reminds me how sick it feels to look in her eyes and see disappointment.
My phone rings, and I have to dig under my pillow to find it. When I see who it is, I hit the green button and say a quick prayer for help.
“Hello?” I ask.
“I’ll have you know, young man, that you were the only grandchild of mine with your behind not in a pew this morning,” Nana says.
“I’ll have you know, young lady, that I’m not sorry.”
“Machlan Daniel—”
“Nana. I’m kidding,” I say, smoothing my hair back off my face. “I have a good reason.”
“There are very few reasons good enough to miss Jesus.”
A long bang comes from the kitchen. Hadley issues an expletive loud enough for me to hear.
Throwing the blankets back, I sit up on the edge of the bed. The floor is cool under my feet, the air chilly on my naked torso.
“I had company last night,” I tell my grandmother.
“Company, huh?” She pauses. “Is that company fit enough to come to my house for dinner?”
The feel of Hadley’s thighs in my hands last night and her arms wrapped around my neck has me getting hard. “Oh, she’s fit all right.”
Nana scoffs. “That’s not what I mean, sir.”
“Are you implying my house guest might be a one-night stand?” I gasp. “I’m insulted.”
“Now, that’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re Lance’s brother. The concept of a one-night stand is not new or insulting.”
I chuckle. “When did you get so savage?”
“I don’t know what that means, but I want you over for dinner.”
Reaching my free hand over my head, I feel my muscles stretch. A rumble flows from my stomach as I move, and the scent of bacon gets stronger. It rumbles harder when I think about taking Hadley with me to Nana’s.
I’m not sure I could handle it.
My brothers take their girlfriends to dinner every week while Peck and I sit together like two losers with no dates. It used to not bother me—Hell, it felt easier being alone. But lately, it feels like something is missing, and no matter who I think about inviting over just to fill a spot, it doesn’t feel right.
It does today. It feels perfect.
“What are you fixing?” I ask.
“I’m frying chicken just for you because you guilted me for having Lance over the other night. And I’m making a cheeseball, and I’d hate for Peck to have all of it.”
“Are you bribing me with food?”
“Of course. I’m a grandmother. It’s what we do.”
“You do it well.”
I know she’s smiling on the other end. I can hear it in the way she smacks her lips together in satisfaction. “We’ll eat around three o’clock. If I know you’re coming, I’ll make you a butterscotch pie.”
“I’ll be there if I can bring home leftovers,” I tease.
“You’ll have to fight Walker for the chicken.”
“That I look forward to,” I say, getting to my feet. “I always love a Nana-approved duel with Walker.”
“I meant that figuratively. Don’t go getting him in one of those head-lock things in my dining room, or I’ll kick your behind.”
My phone buzzes, indicating the battery is dying. I pull it away from my face to see I have less than ten percent left. “I gotta go because my phone is dying, and you know, I need to entertain my company.”
“Oh, dear. Goodbye.”
Laughing, I head to the other side of the bed. “Bye, Nana.”
I fish my charger out from behind the bedside table and plug it in. Setting it beside the lamp, I spin around but stop when I see Hadley’s bag on the chair in the corner.