Page 11 of Stick Work

4

Elias

Grandma steps back into the hallway, and I stiffen as she tosses a mischievous grin my way. “I’ll let you two get to work. Dinner is in an hour,” she says with a wink. “Plenty of time.”

“Grandma,” I warn, heat crawling up my neck.

She grins wider, completely unfazed. “Unpacking, of course.” And with that, the door shuts behind her with a soft but thunderous click, leaving Taylor and me alone… in my childhood bedroom.

I glance around, trying not to cringe at the relics of my teenage years: posters of my favorite hockey players, trophies, and medals from my junior years, a bookshelf stuffed with fantasy novels, and, of course, the massive king-sized bed that tempts me in dangerous ways.

“Taylor,” I begin, but she’s already holding up her hands.

“It’s okay,” she says, her tone breezy, though I can see the faint blush creeping up her cheeks. “I guess we should have figured something like this might happen.”

Maybe you’d hoped it would, huh, Elias.

Jesus. Just no.

“I’ll take the floor,” I offer, desperate to find a way to make this less… awkward.

She shakes her head firmly. “I can’t let you sleep on the floor in your own bedroom.”

“And if you think I’m letting you take the floor, then you don’t know me at all.”

“I know you,” she murmurs, then her lips quirk into a half-smile, her eyes playful when they flick toward the bed. “We could… do a pillow wall?”

A pillow wall. Like that’s going to stop me from wanting to crawl across it in the middle of the night. Still, what choice do I have?

“Yeah, okay,” I agree, trying to sound casual, though my voice is rougher than I intend.

“Let’s just make the best of it,” she says brightly, stepping away to explore the room. If there’s one thing I love about Taylor, it’s her ability to find the silver lining, even when we’re trapped in what feels like a goddamn rom-com setup. Damn you, Roman.

She opens a door and gasps. “Oh, a bathroom. It’s so big.” She glances over her shoulder, her grin lighting up the room. “And I don’t even have to share it with anyone.”

“You have to share it with me,” I point out, trying not to laugh.

She winks. “Right. Like back home with our Jack and Jill, except only one door. We’re pros at this.”

I should feel reassured, but instead, my mind flashes back to Grandma’s not-so-subtle comment. Did she really insinuate she wanted us to… get to work? On making great grandbabies? The thought makes me want to crawl under the bed, but worse is the realization that Grandma might actually think we’re up here, right now, doing exactly that.

Quietly, of course.

I groan inwardly. Quiet isn’t even in the realm of possibility if I were ever to—nope, not going there.

“Yeah, we’re used to sharing,” I agree, trying to focus on something safe. I glance at the bed and immediately regret it.

My inner voice taunts…but you’ve never shared a bed with her before, have you, dude?

It’s only two nights.

It’s only two nights.

Yeah, right, two nights of torture.

Taylor shuts the bathroom door behind her and starts exploring my room, her fingers trailing across the remnants of my teenage years. “I really like Grandma,” she tells me, her voice light but sincere.

Look at that. She’s already calling her Grandma, and it does something to me. Makes me feel… softer, warmer. Honestly, she could use a grandma after everything she’s been through in her young life.

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