Truly Madly Deeply: Chapter 34

“Baby Can I Hold You”—Tracy Chapman

After my forehead got stitched and bandaged, Row insisted on walking me home. An ordinarily chivalrous offer, unless you took into account the fact that I had an actual ride home in the form of Kieran Carmichael and his comfy Maybach. Apparently, Zeta had told Dylan about my injury. Dylan had called Kieran and demanded he save the day.

“I’ll walk you,” Row declared when I grabbed my backpack and coat from the break room. “You’re not getting into that moron’s car.”

“Pretty sure I am.” I collected my hair into a high ponytail. I was exhausted from lack of sleep, my head injury, and his constant bull crap. I also didn’t know what to make of Row’s behavior toward me. One second he told me I looked perfect while bleeding, the next he seemed annoyed by my existence.

Row removed his chef jacket, revealing a tight-fitting, olive-green Henley. “It’s not safe.”

“How is bumming a ride with Kieran unsafe?”

“He looks like a substance abuser.” Row slipped on his flight jacket.

Laughter spluttered from my mouth. “No, he doesn’t. As a professional soccer player, he gets tested for drugs all the time.”

“Those panels don’t check for mushrooms.”

“You’re reaching.”

“Yeah, the end of my fucking patience. You don’t like being with men in a private setting, remember?”

“Yes,” I huffed, not liking that he brought up things I’d told him as oBITCHuary. “I also remember trying to get over myself. Having Kieran take me home is a great step forward.”

“Grab your umbrella, Dot. We’re outta here.” He ignored me.

He was dropping everything mid-service to walk me home, and I wasn’t sure what to make of it. As if reading my mind, Row jammed his beanie over his head angrily. “It’s the second time you’ve been injured on my property. Just making sure you’re up and standing. Don’t get any ideas.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You looked happy again.”

“Is it a crime?” I suppressed a laugh. He was ridiculous.

“It should be.”

We said goodbye to our colleagues and exited through the back door. Chill grazed our faces as we stepped into the crisp winter. Staindrop looked like a tipped-over snow globe, the dandruff of snow feathering the ground. I stuck my tongue out in delight and caught a few flakes.

“First snow of the season!” I twirled, opening my arms. I had on Mom’s kick-ass mittens. “Dad loved the snow.”

My father and I would wake up on winter mornings to a white-covered world. We’d run outside and make Minecraft-inspired snowmen. We’d hold their twig hands days later, as they melted, and say our teary goodbyes. They’d all had names, backstories, and motivations. Dad had said not to be sad because the snow melted into everything we touched and the same could be said about losing a loved one. The person who left us was still there—soaked into memories, objects, and other people. We all left a mark on this world.

It was only now that I understood Dad’s greatest gift to me wasn’t the bike I’d gotten for Christmas or even the Barbie house he’d gotten me when I was six. He had taught me creativity and imagination. And they were my safe place.

I turned around to check if Row was still there. He was. And he was staring at me in a way that made me feel naked yet somehow all fuzzy and warm inside.

“Let’s go, Dot.”

Descartes was a twenty-minute walk from my house. But it was a steep hill down toward the harbor. The street was lined with small shops adorned with pine wreaths, naked trees tangled in Christmas lights, and fluffy pillows of snow decorating rooftops.

The first few minutes were spent in silence. I tried to keep my mouth shut. We both needed a second to wrap our heads around what had just happened today.

Do not start a conversation.

Do not. No matter how much you want his words.

And his smiles.

And…fine, even his frowns.

“So why did you and Allison Murray break up?” my mouth inquired.

Damnit, mouth. You’re grounded.

“What happened the day you broke your ankle?” He ran his tongue over his teeth, and I didn’t know if he’d speculated the connection between the two subjects, but my heart skipped a beat.

“That’s…personal.” I grimaced.

“Same answer.” Silence. Then, “Jesus, look at you. You’re shivering.” He dumped his bag on the ground, slid his jacket off his shoulders, and wrapped it around me, even though I already had on a big, puffy coat. His jacket oozed warmth that seeped right into my bones.

“You can’t do that. You only have a shirt on,” I protested, only to have him rip the beanie from his head and slam it over mine, rolling it down.

“Here, that’s better.” He said that because my face was covered all the way. Bastard.

“You’ll be cold.” I pushed the beanie up, blinking at him.

“Don’t worry about me.”

“Someone needs to.”

“Yeah, well, no one did, and I turned out just fine.”

It was ridiculous, but I knew arguing would bring us nowhere—he was a Taurus, for crying out loud—so I quickened my pace. He shoved his hands into his front pockets. He had a leather messenger bag slung across his shoulder. Pink stained his high cheekbones. He looked like fan art of a fantasy villain.

I dug my teeth into my lower lip, dying to know what had made snooty, bitchy Allison worthy of being his ex-girlfriend—other than the banal stuff, like how she was a knockout, smart, ambitious, and had a killer wardrobe and, oh, an actual career.

“Those brain wheels of yours are a little rusty,” Row muttered, still staring ahead. “I can hear them turning all the way from here.”

“Let’s trade info,” I bargained. “I’ll tell you about my injury, and you’ll tell me about your relationship with Allison.”

“That desperate for gossip, huh?” He chuckled humorlessly, but I could tell he wanted to hear my story.

“You never had a girlfriend growing up.” I shrugged defensively. “I’m interested to know what made her different.”

“At the price of telling me something you haven’t shared with anyone?”

I swallowed. “Secrets are burdensome. Maybe I want you to carry some of my baggage.” Maybe I’ve been wanting to tell McMonster for a while now.

“Will you carry some of mine?”

I nodded, not breaking eye contact. I didn’t know why, but I really, really wanted to carry some of his baggage. Even if it meant showing him the most embarrassing, scarred part of me in return. Maybe if he knew what I’d gone through, he would understand why I didn’t do relationships.

“So what do you say?” I held my breath for his answer.

He halted his steps, turning his head toward the other side of the residential street. “Hey, wasn’t that your hangout spot?”

I swiveled to follow his line of sight and saw we were on the edge of Staindrop’s community park. A lousy excuse for a playground. Two slides, two swings, one seesaw, and monkey bars. In high school, Dylan and I had come here in the summers to drink and gossip.

“A slice of heaven,” I said breathlessly, my cheeks stinging with a smile. I twisted my head to face him. “Detour? For old times’ sake?”

I couldn’t read his face in the dark, but I thought I heard him smile. “Heaven better buckle up.” He treaded in that direction, giving me his back. “Because the devil’s about to drop in for a visit.”