Page 29 of The Caretaker
“It’s terrible,” he countered, looking over my shoulder. His size eclipsed everything, even blocking out the darkened sky. The cold air didn’t stand a chance at getting past him to me.
“There’s some good stuff here,” I said, wincing when I got to one missing half my body. “You did good for your first time,” I amended.
Noon stepped closer to me, taking the camera back. Excitement flashed in his eyes as he scrolled through the remaining photos. They were the best, proving he’d gotten better with time. I loved seeing him happy. There was a childlike quality to him. As intimidating as he seemed on the outside, he was soft and mushy on the inside.
“Care Bear,” I said in wonder.
“Huh?” He took a break from scrolling to look at me, his expression bewildered.
“Gavin would have called you a Care Bear. It’s an old cartoon and stuffed toy. Way before his time. He was an old soul like that. The bears were created to help people express their emotions. They have this unique way of making people feel seen and safe.” I shook my head, feeling silly. “Forget it. Ignore me,” I insisted. Noon likely didn’t remember, if he ever knew, who the Care Bears were. “I used to watch it as a kid. Gavin loved them.”
Noon began singing the theme song then, and my chest burned from where my heart had begun to melt. I joined in, and when we were done, he shouted his request for an encore. We sang it three times before emotion robbed me of my voice. I pressed a fist to my mouth. It did nothing to hold the tears in.
“You’re beautiful when you cry,” he said, not making a big deal about it. “Which Care Bear name do you think Gavin would’ve given me?”
I blinked the remainder of my tears away as I thought long and hard. “This is tough because you could literally be all of them—well, maybe not Grumpy Bear.”
“Let’s revisit that after I get my appetite back and you’ve seen me hungry,” he replied. I bit my bottom lip to stifle my smile, and he frowned, pulling it free. “You’re just as beautiful when you smile too.”
“Okay, let’s see,” I said, getting back to his Care Bear name. The way his eyes danced said that my stupid blush was thank you enough for his compliment. “The bear’s gender doesn’t matter here. This is strictly a personality trait thing.”
“Of course,” he said with mock gravity.
I went through all the Care Bear names and traits in my head before saying, “Maybe Tender Heart Bear. Or Always There Bear?” I asked with less confidence. We really could have gone with either.
“Or Bedtime Bear,” he interjected, wiggling his brows. We’d never spoken about our new sleeping arrangement, but we hadn’t spent a night outside of each other’s arms since that first time he found me in the guest bedroom shivering in the dark.
“My dreams have definitely been sweeter since sleeping with you,” I admitted, surprising him and myself. “And even when they’re not, it’s okay, because it feels like you’re there with me.”
“Samsies,” he said, earning him an eye roll. He hummed thoughtfully. “I never had a nickname before. I’ll take Care Bear. And then if the situation calls for it, you can address me by a specific bear’s name at that moment.” He nodded as if it was all settled.
“I’m pretty sure that’s not how nicknames work.” I crossed my arms, the cold beginning to set in again. “You can’t assign yourself one.”
“Says who?” he challenged, getting my coat off my chair and holding it out so I could slide into it. He still wore his suit jacket,but the cold never seemed to affect him like it did me. I’d been washing the whole suit for him every night, and the expensive, dry-clean only fabric now looked mangled.
“Says…” I couldn’t think of who’d said it. Noon placed a hand to his ear in the gesture of waiting for my answer. “Says everyone,” I finished.
“Anyone named Everyone should never be trusted.”
“You know what I meant.”
He tapped me on the nose and again declared that Care Bear was now his official nickname. I gave in, because secretly I loved it and couldn’t wait to drive him crazy by abusing it.
I sat while Noon added more wood to the fire pit. Patrick’s things had long burned to ashes. “That suit has been through a lot,” I noted after he collapsed onto his chair, the plastic and metal groaning in protest.
Noon sighed as the heavy weight of reality retook its place on top of us. “I don’t want to go back there.”
I knew he meant home. I’d known that was part of the reason for his still being here long after the storm had passed. It said a lot about our rapidly growing dependency on each other that he could even be here, in the home Patrick lived in. It said a lot about the man he was that he’d brave his discomfort if it meant not leaving me here alone. I was beginning to appreciate it more than I should have, for reasons that I shouldn’t.
“So don’t. We can pick up a few things for you in town tomorrow.”
“I need to go back,” he whispered.
“Is it work?”
He worked for himself, but that didn’t mean he could afford to take time off.
“No. I think I’ve earned a hiatus, all things considered.”
