Page 26 of Rook

“Alright, babe, you’re starting to make me worry. What are you talking about?”

I swallowed past the lump in my throat.

“I came into my room, and there was a basket on the bed.”

There was a long pause after my words, making my shoulders go up near my ears, anticipating the yelling.

“Christ. That’s it? You were scaring me. Fuuuck,” he said, exhaling hard. “Yeah, that’s Colt. He gives everyone baskets. Didn’t I mention that?”

Actually, now that he reminded me, he had said that.

“Oh.”

Rook was silent for another second.

“Wait, did you think I was gonna be mad about you getting a gift basket?”

“Well, it wasn’t, you know, from you. And I didn’t want you to think I was, like, encouraging one of the other guys on or anything...”

“Yeah, no. That never crossed my mind. You okay? You sound upset.”

“No. No, I’m fine,” I said, sitting off the side of the bed, sucking in a steadying breath, trying to ground myself.

I needed to get a grip.

I couldn’t keep having knee-jerk trauma responses, or Rook was going to suss out that I was keeping a lot more from him than he realized.

“It’s just been a strange day,” I told him.

“Yeah, I guess. You want me to come over for a bit? Or want to come here? You feeling weird being there alone?”

“No, I’m okay. I just think I need some sleep.”

“Alright. I won’t keep you then. Have fun going through the basket. Colter is a weirdly good gift-giver.”

With that, he hung up.

I sat there for a long moment, taking calming breaths, before reaching to pull the basket closer to start going through.

Sitting right in the front was a really gorgeous mug with a golden handle. The rest of it was made to look like aquamarine mermaid scales.

I knew he picked it just for the color, which was sweet enough, but I just so happened to be obsessed with mermaids as a little girl.

Stuffed inside the mug was a bag of chocolate and caramel candies.

I set that on the nightstand, knowing it would be gone in two-point-five seconds once I opened it.

The basket as a whole seemed to be set up in sections. To one side were personal care products—face masks, bath bombs, a loofah, and lip balm. To the other side were snacks. Obviously not knowing my preferences, Colter covered all his bases—salty chips, sweet candy, and hot crisps. There were even a few drinks—a soda, an electrolyte bottle, and one of those shelf-stable coffee drinks.

Then, on top of all of that, there was what I would call a ‘comfort’ section. There were fuzzy socks, a sleep mask, one of those squishy animals in a teal color that could double as a pillow, and a silky-soft teal pajama set. And, under everything else in the basket to save room, was a folded teal ribbed blanket made of the softest material known to mankind.

There was no stopping the rush of water in my eyes. So I just sat there. Crying over a gift basket for what felt like hours.

It wasn’t, of course, the gift basket itself. It was the years and years—an entire lifetime—of never getting anything just for myself, of never having anyone care enough to actually go to the store with a mission to find things that I might like, then put it all together and give to me.

And in one day, I’d had two men show me that kind of kindness. Both of whom acted like it was no big deal.

But it was.

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