Page 37 of Going All In

“Come on. I’ll get you a toothbrush.”

“We can’t share a bed!” she hisses from behind me.

I don’t say anything. I had planned to take the couch, but I’m interested in hearing her logic.

“You know we can’t!”

I peek back at her again and hold back a smirk. She has the most adorably flustered expression on her face. Why does she care so much about our family knowing there’s something between us? “Don’t worry. I’m sleeping on the couch. I’ll just make sure you’re settled first.”

The bathroom is directly at the top of the stairs. My mother redecorated after we all left for college, and now it’s got kind of an Under the Sea theme. Blue and beige wallpaper, and seashells everywhere. I pull two new toothbrushes out of the drawer. The pink one I set on the counter next to a soap dish. The dish is shaped like a starfish and holds three tiny seashell-shaped soaps which, knowing my mom, are for looks, not use, just like the little decorative towels. There’s a container of liquid hand soap just behind it.

I pull the green toothbrush out of its packaging. Holly has been standing in the hallway, watching, and I wave her in. I hand her the pink toothbrush while she takes in the decor.

“Judy likes the beach, huh?”

I nod. “The toothpaste is right there,” I mumble through a mouthful of minty foam.

Holly follows my pointed finger to the travel-sized tube and puts a stripe of toothpaste on her brush. She squeezes in the center of the tube—I cringe internally—and then puts it down without putting the cap back on. I watch as a tiny bit lands on the counter. I wipe the tube and put the cap on. She’s not really watching, so I quickly squeeze the contents of the tube up from the bottom. Sue me. I like things neat.

We stand there together for a minute, brushing, and I take a moment to revel in how normal this all is. How easy things are with Holly. I just need her to realize how right we are, her terrible toothpaste squeezing technique aside.

* * *

My childhood bedroom is right next to the bathroom. I push the door open for her, but she waits in the hallway, so I go first.

Holly follows me in, her gaze moving around the room, which has thankfully been updated since I was a teenager. It smells better now than it did back then, too.

The walls are painted a calming shade of grey with white accents and framed black and white landscape photos on the walls. The centerfolds and baseball posters that I hung up with thumbtacks directly into the drywall are gone, along with the holes in the wall from said thumbtacks. Mom made me help her cover them up before she had it painted. The room is neutral now, a place for guests.

There are still some old shirts of mine in the white dresser that faces the foot of the bed. I dig out two of them, sniffing to make sure they smell either like laundry detergent or like I smell now, rather than teenage boy. I toss one to Holly.

“You can wear this to bed. It’s clean.”

She catches it and clutches it in front of her like a shield. Fuck, I don’t want her to be uncomfortable. I didn’t exactly correct her right away on the one bed thing, but I was joking there, at least mostly.

I step toward her and plant a chaste kiss on her forehead. “Goodnight, Holly.” I leave her standing next to the bed while I return to the bathroom to change, leaving my jeans and sweater on the countertop for the morning.

When I emerge in my boxers and the t-shirt, ready to head back downstairs for a long night on the couch, her door is cracked open, the light off. I’m about to put a foot on the stairs when I hear her voice.

“Maddox?” It’s soft, barely audible in the creaking old home.

I turn around, listening at the door, and she says it again. The door squeaks as I push it open enough to enter, and again as I close it behind me.

“What’s up, Holly?” I ask, my eyes adjusting to the darkness of the room.

She’s lying on one side of the bed, the covers pulled to her waist. In the king-size bed, she looks so small, and her full breasts are outlined against the soft cotton of my old shirt.

“Today was really fun. I’ve never really had Thanksgiving with a big family,” she whispers.

I grin, even though she likely can’t see it, and sit on the edge of the bed. “This was small compared to some of our Thanksgivings.”

“Judy seems like she really enjoys the holidays.” I can hear the smile in her voice.

I lean back on the bed and position myself on my side on top of the covers, facing her. “She does. She goes all out for Christmas. Usually, the decorations come out the day after Halloween.”

Oops. Wasn’t supposed to share that part.

“That’s what my mom always did, too.” Her voice is soft. “Did Judy… did she hold off on decorating because of me?”

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