Room for You(47)

He was so honest last night, so sincere, not to mention, irresistible. When he talked, the way his mouth moved, the way he licked his lips, the way his eyes brought whatever he said to life. Intoxicating.

He looked pretty damn cute when he slept too.

I rolled over and looked at him, stretched out on his stomach next to me, sound asleep with his arms pulled under his pillow. His firm back rose and fell with each breath, accentuating each muscle individually. I stared at his tattoo; it was vibrant and clear. I felt like it was glaring back at me, challenging me to doubt his sincerity and character.

It was never the plan for him to sleep in here with me, but after we were done talking in the wee hours of the morning, I’d gotten up to head to bed when he jumped in front of me and blocked the hallway.

“Listen,” he’d said, “after today, I know you’re exhausted and have a lot to process. I told you, I’m patient and I don’t want to push you into anything you’re not ready for, but … will you sleep with me tonight? Sleep, nothing else. I’m just not ready to let you go yet.” His eyes were forthright with no underlying meaning, hard to resist.

“Yes,” I replied, pointing down the hall, “in there.”

He didn’t argue, he just turned and walked toward the guest room while I followed.

Here we were, a few hours later and I hadn’t slept at all. I knew I’d pay for it later, but lying there, watching him just felt perfect. I studied every movement he made, the way his eyes fluttered while he slept, the way the corners of his mouth twitched into a slight grin when something in his dream pleased him.

Hopefully it was me.



I quietly snuck out of bed and tiptoed to the bathroom.

“Ugh,” I mumbled, looking at my appearance in the mirror. My hair was going a thousand different directions, my eyes were puffy from lack of sleep and my cheeks had no color.

I hope he likes zombies.

I tamed my hair into a low ponytail and did a quick mouthwash swish, thinking I’d creep into the kitchen and surprise him with breakfast in bed and hopefully get a kiss in return. My hand was on the bedroom doorknob when I heard him stir behind me.

“Sneaking out?”

He had flipped onto his back and was groaning as he stretched. His body was lean and long, every muscle contracting as he reached out far.

“Nope, I was gonna make you breakfast,” I responded, trying not to drool as I stared.

“Uh-uh, come here.” He lifted the corner of the blanket, insisting I climb back into bed. I didn’t argue.

Curling into his side, he tucked his bicep under my head and took my hand in his, resting it on his chest.

“How are you feeling today?” he asked, kissing the top of my head.

“I feel bad for judging you so hard last night, but I think I’m good. I think we’re good.” I rubbed my thumb back and forth across his chest.

“Good. I don’t want anything from my past to affect us.” He sighed contentedly.

“That’s unrealistic though,” I said. “Everything from our past is going to play some role in how we treat each other, and how we respond to the way we’re treated.”

“What do you mean?”

I sighed, deciding since he’d been so honest last night, it was time I started sharing too, at least a little.

“Yesterday, when I came in to shower and I asked you about the shampoo?” I slid my face along his chest, looking up at him. He nodded, waiting for me to continue.

“You said you didn’t know what I used so you bought every kind they had. To you, that seemed like nothing, you laughed it off, but to me, that was huge. I’m not used to being cared for like that, it was really sweet.”

He chuckled, his laugh vibrating through my body. “It was just shampoo.”

“Once, when the girls were about six months old, I had just gotten home from working a double at the hospital. It was after midnight when I got home and my car was almost out of gas. I would’ve stopped for it myself, but Zach didn’t let me have the debit card or any credit cards. He controlled the money. Anyway, I asked him to please get up five minutes early the next morning and get me gas, so I’d have enough to get to work the next day.” Brody squeezed me tight as I continued. “I went out in the morning and naturally, he’d blown me off. I went back inside and opened the girls’ piggy banks, but he’d already cleaned those out. My choices were call in sick to work, which we couldn’t afford, or drop the girls at daycare and take the bus from there. So, I hopped in my car and prayed the whole way to the babysitter. About six blocks from her house, my car sputtered to a stop, right past an intersection. I coasted to the side and called him, seven times. The first couple times, it rang before the voicemail picked up. Eventually it just went straight to voicemail. He’d turned it off.”

Brody inhaled loudly as his arm muscles tensed under my head.

“Just as I was pulling Lucy and Piper’s infant carriers out of the car, as if God himself were testing me personally, the skies opened and it started down-pouring on us. Thankfully I had two blankets in the car and I threw them over the girls so they wouldn’t get wet. I walked the rest of the way to the sitter, borrowed change from her and took the bus to work, soaked to the bone and freezing.”

Brody was smashing his teeth so hard, the muscle in the corner of his jaw was popping.