Page 19 of Afterglow
“Youare Ottawa’s infamous bicycle maimer.” He’s pulling back a smile, too.
I made Fletcher Donovan smile.
My heart soars, like Icarus, higher and higher, and ready to fall into the depths.
Get it together, Bea. It’s only a crush.
The stupid beating organ has no desire to listen. My knee nudges his. “Hey, I said I was sorry about that.” A beat hangs between us. Then two.
“I’m not.” His gaze softens into mine, hazel hues going misty.
I think I might melt into this couch and onto the floor.
“Thank you,um, for everything.”
My lips part in surprise.
“If you didn’t stay…I would’ve been all alone, too.” His confession reminds me of my own loneliness. “Hey,um, Behraz?”
“Seriously. You can call me Bea.”
“Can I ask you something?” He places the family portrait face down on the coffee table. Anxiety courses through my veins, sending my heart rate into outer space. What is he gonna ask? People don’t say that without it being serious. My face feels hot, but I try to play it cool.
“Sure.”
Haziness changes to worry in his eyes.
“Do you really have no place to live?”
The air shifts. So, it is a serious question. I blink twice. I could lie and say that now he’s back to himself and all good on his own, I’ll be staying at Indi’s or Gabe’s while they’re away. Just until I find a new apartment. I could lie and say I found a place, and I’ll get out of his hair tomorrow morning. The truth is far too embarrassing, and I’ve already made a whole ass fool of myself by bawling like a newborn baby while trying to climb him like a tree.
“Bea.”
My name whispered from his mouth sends a shiver down my spine, and the sudden seriousness in his tone has me wanting to disappear into the walls.
“Where’s all your stuff?”
I toy with my bottom lip. “In a storage…of sorts.”
Chapter 7
You Have to Promise Not to Tell
Fletcher
Behraz Iranisimultaneously and equally makes me nervous and at ease.
I’m genuinely surprised at how effortless it is to talk to her. There’s still a pitter-patter in my belly, but at least I can be somewhat normal, comfortable enough to share a little.
I don’t tell her about how Dad drinks. How out of control his gambling is. How the rest of my family can’t cover my parents financially because they’re barely getting by on their own. Or how I put Greer, Miller, Harper, and Hunter through university, though I couldn’t go myself. And I’m too upset while piecing together her puzzle of woes to talk about why Parker and I fight.
Kicked out of her sublease. No money. No place to live. Living out of her suitcase.
I know I have no right to be, but I’m seething. Not at Behraz, but at the situation. How unfair, how heartless the universe is to throw such an unselfish, generous soul—someone who’s clearly struggling and still gives a crap about someone she barelyknows—basically out onto the street. And along with everything else?
I remember when Harper was diagnosed with ADHD after uni and how she struggled to manage it. She had a whole support system through work. All the siblings came through, even Park. Behraz doesn’t even have family in the country. She must be terrified.
“You can stay here,” I offer.
