One Day Soon (One Day Soon, #1)(75)

“You don’t need to thank me. Seriously, it’s just pasta—”

“Not just the pasta,” he interrupted. “Never just for the pasta.”

I picked up our empty plates and carried them to the sink, dropping them with a clang. I braced myself against the counter, my knuckles clenched so tightly they turned white.

“Let me show you the spare room. There’s a double bed in there. The mattress is new, so it should be okay. The duvet is yellow. Nothing girlie and pink, I promise,” I chuckled nervously. Why was I so nervous?

“I’m sure it’s fine. You’ve seen the places I’ve slept before.” A laugh with no humor. “I’d take anything over that hospital.”

I pushed away from the counter, knocking into him. I hadn’t realized he was behind me. He stumbled back, his hands coming out to grab me.

Hold me.

Touch me.

Please…

His fingers never made contact.

The moment fizzled into nothing.

Always nothing…

“Okay, let me show you the room,” I said, wishing I didn’t sound as disappointed as I was.

What do I expect having him here?

But I knew, without a doubt, that there was still hope.

I led him down the narrow hallway, opening the door to the left and pushing it open. I flipped the switch on the wall and light flooded the small and overly cluttered room.

The spare room, like the rest of my house, was piled high with stuff. Random ski equipment I had only used once, old furniture, cast iron collectables, a collection of vintage fabrics I had thought to use for a re-upholstery project that never actually happened.

“I know there’s a lot of stuff in here.” I picked up a wicker basket overflowing with ribbons and hair ties.

Yoss looked around, his eyes flitting across things. Slowly he walked to the far corner and ran his hand along the wall. Over three distinct splotches of color that stood out against the cream background. Pink. Yellow. Green.

“What’s this for? Are you planning to paint the walls?” he asked, looking over his shoulder to where I stood.

“I was going to. A long time ago.” I smiled. “This was going to be Gabby’s nursery. I liked the yellow. Chris had wanted the pink. I hate pink. It’s such a stereotypically girly color. We fought about it of course. We compromised on the green.” I bit down on my bottom lip. But not to control the tears. There were none. Not anymore.

“Obviously we never painted it,” I finished, putting the basket back on the dresser. “But I finally got a yellow comforter for in here.”

“I like the yellow,” Yoss said, his attention on those three strips of random color that I could never bring myself to paint over. “I think it would look nice in here. Brighten things up.”

I snorted. “Since when have you decided to become an interior designer?”

Yoss grinned and then looked down at a pile of stuff that leaned precariously against the desk in the corner. “No way,” he breathed.

What was he looking at?

He lifted up a pair of worn roller skates I had bought on a whim many years ago.

Roller skates almost exactly like the ugly brown pair he had given me for my seventeenth birthday.

The pair that had been destroyed in the fire.

“Yeah, there should be another pair around here somewhere,” I said offhandedly.

I didn’t know why I bought two pairs of roller skates. Chris had looked at me as if I were crazy when I brought them home, so excited about my purchase.

“I hate roller-skating. Why would you buy those stupid things?” he had asked me.

So I had put them with the rest of the junk I accumulated but could never throw out.

“Did you ever figure out how to stay on your feet?” Yoss joked, putting them down again.

“I haven’t really been since—”

“Maybe we should go sometime. If you can find the other pair that is,” Yoss suggested, surprising me.

He smiled.

I smiled.

“Yeah, that sounds nice,” I agreed, my heart expanding.

“Thanks,” he said again and I waved away his statement.

“I told you that you don’t need to thank me.”

Yoss frowned. “I’m thanking you not just for letting me stay with you. Though that’s more than you should be doing for me. I want to thank you for not…” He seemed to be at a loss for words.

He lifted his eyes, finding mine. Hanging on before he let go…

“For not letting me chase you away. I’ve become way too good at that.”

I crossed the room until I stood just in front of him. I could see how rapidly he was breathing. As if he had just run a marathon. His jaundiced skin stood out starkly in the darkened room. He looked tired, dark circles and blood shot eyes.

He seemed as though he was barely able to stand and I knew how hard all of this was for him. Not just physically. We were both going through an emotional ringer just by being here, together.

But it was worth it.

I had to think that.

I’d make him believe too.

I reached out and took his hand. He didn’t resist. His smile was exhausted. But it was real.

He moved closer. Magnets pulled together.

He cupped my cheek, his thumb running along the curve of my face. “You were better off without me, Imi,” he murmured. I opened my mouth to protest. To rage against this same old argument, but he went on before I could.