Page 87 of Honeysuckle
“So you sleeping in my bed, us showering together…” I listed the suspicious activity off for him. “It’s nothing?”
“It’s necessary.” He shook his head, then shoved the bowl back into my hands. “Finish,” he said.
Necessary. He had said that before, and it confused me then, just as much as it did now. It was as if those miniscule mundane tasks were the only thing holding us together. And maybe they were, but it felt like it was snowballing into something that neither of us were ready for, and I was scared that if it got too big, it would scare him. Just like it had scared Cael.
I set the empty bowl down between us and shifted back on the bed against the wall laying down and covering myself with the blankets. Josh put the bowl on the table, kicked off his shoes and grabbed his pillow. Settling on the bed next to me, leaving a little less space between us than the times before.
Unnecessary, I thought. Everything he was doing felt unnecessary. He just needed an excuse for his kindness. A small, genuine smile formed on my face, staring at the back of his head. His dark wavy curls were within reach, and his cinnamon cologne filled my nose. I could let him think it was necessary, if that's what he needed. As long as it meant he kept sleeping in my bed.
LOGAN
I’dshiftedinmysleep and ended up pressed against Dean, his head tucked between my shoulder blades, completely unaware. I inhaled a shaky breath and held the monstrous feelings at bay, slipping out of his hold without waking him up.
I made it to the bathroom without breaking down, but the second the door clicked shut, I was hunched over the toilet, emptying my stomach in violent heaves. I tried to count myself down, but couldn’t get past seven before more nausea hit.
I collapsed against the wall ten minutes later, just wading through a waking nightmare. I wanted to be close to Dean so badly that even in sleep, I reached for him—but someone’s touch still sent rage spiraling through me. It was hard to imagine ever being okay to the point that I could be normal with him.
What are we?
I wanted to say nothing because I couldn’t even bring myself to lie next to him without having the nasty thoughts creep in. But I was trying, and until I could trust my own mind, trying was all I could offer him. I also wanted to say something, because the lines that had once been drawn were fading, and with every day close to Dean Tucker, I found myself closing the gap between us. I wanted to besomething, but how did I do that without breaking both of us more than we already were? I couldn’t promise him that we,together, would fix anything. I had slept with people before, drunk and unbothered, but never…
I’d never crossed the line into intimacy while sober.
I wasn’t even sure I could bring myself to do it. But there had never been an urge to do it until Dean. I wanted to feel him, to be surrounded by him. Engulfed in him. And that fact alone made me sick to my stomach.
The door to the bathroom opened, and I reached out to push it closed again, but Dean slipped in, his eyes squinting from the light. "Your phone was ringing.”
Mom’s name flashed across the screen, and I groaned, setting the phone on the floor.Perfect.
I buckled down, ignoring the nauseous feeling in the pit of my stomach and pushed off the floor to answer it. Dean stepped back, leaning against the counter to give me space. His blond curls were stuck to his forehead and he barely looked awake as I hit answer.
“Hey,” I said.
“Where are you?”Mom asked.“You’re not in your room!”
“Yeah, Mom, I don’t live there anymore, remember?” I said with a low groan. “Why were you looking for me?”
“You weren’t in your room, Joshua. I told you to stay in your room.”She repeated herself, and I could hear her banging around on the other end.
“Mom, you called me, do you remember why?” I asked her. Dean watched my every move as I sank to the side of the tub and ran my hand through my hair.
In her drugged-up state, she flip-flopped between past and present. In her mind, I was still ten years old some days, unable to make the connection to her timeline when she was so worked up. When she didn’t answer, I asked her again why she called, but that time she just hung up on me.
I tossed the phone on the bathroom floor and shut my eyes. I couldn’t bring myself to look at Dean, not at that moment. The judgment in his sea-glass eyes would eat through my defenses like acid.
“Is she okay?” He asked after a beat of silence. He stared at me like he wanted to ask if I was okay, but he knew that the answer was moot.
“She’s never okay,” I chuckled, a hollow, breathy sound that came out of the depths of my defeat. “Do you think I could borrow your keys? I can’t leave her like that.”
“Let me get dressed,” Dean said, with a shake of his head as he started out of the bathroom.
“Just give me your keys, Tuck.” I followed after him, the vomit taste still lingering in my mouth as we made our way back to the room.
He was digging in his closet when I got inside and shut the door behind me. "Tucker!” I hollered, but he didn’t listen. He only turned around as he tugged the hoodie down over his head.
“Get dressed,” he said, like it wasn’t an argument to begin with as he pushed his feet into a pair of sneakers.
“Just stop for a second,” I demanded, and he stopped fidgeting with his shoe laces to look up at me. “I don’t need to be babysat,” I said to him.
