Page 18 of Santa of the Creek
“Do you go there?” he asks.
“Sometimes.” It sounds more like a confession, and one that’s dragged out of me. Sometimes I just want to be around people like me, even if I don’t want to be that person. At least at Gilligan’s no one gives a crap who you are.
I look up to see Echo watching me. I get the feeling this man can see right through me, and it scares the crap out of me.
“Do you want to watch S.W.A.T?” he asks, and I appreciate the change of subject.
“Yeah, why not?”
I make nachos and bring them in, along with coffee and cookies and whatever else I can find in his kitchen to snack on. He says he needs comfort food. I can understand that. It’s been a long day for him.
Ariel sneaks back in and settles down in her daddy’s lap, contentedly purring. She sounds like a chainsaw on forty a day, but she’s happy. I put the snacks between us and if I sneak her the occasional nacho Echo doesn’t call me out on it.
At some point I look over to find Echo asleep, snoring in time to Ariel’s purrs. I’m tempted to take a photo, but I’m not quite brave enough. I stare at him for a long time, wishing I could be brave like him.
Eventually I have to go home. I clear away the snacks, then turn off the TV and shake Echo’s arm. “Time to wake up.”
He blinks sleepily at me. “Did I fall asleep?”
“You did. I thought about leaving you here, but you’ll be more comfortable in bed.”
“Thanks.” He sits up, massaging the small of his back. “This couch sucks ass after a few hours.” Then he looks at his leg. “How do I get up?”
“Wriggle to the edge of the seat,” I instruct. Then I guide him through getting off the seat.
“You’re a master,” he says when he’s balanced on his crutches.
“If I can get old Mr. Raleigh off his chair, I can manage you. You’ll feel better tomorrow.”
At a hundred and four, Mr. Raleigh is one of my favorite residents at the assisted living facility. Crotchety as heck, the old man loves me coming in because I give him the chance to talk for hours without “having to listen to the dang women.” I keep my mouth shut and let him talk. He’d had a fascinating life outside Collier’s Creek. I envy his freedom.
I stay by Echo’s side as he slowly walks to his bedroom and lowers himself onto the end of the bed. He grabs my hand as I go to leave.
“Thanks, Dean. I couldn’t have gotten through today without you.”
“No problem.”
“I mean it. I’ve never had anyone help me like that.”
I regard Echo a moment, thinking there’s a lot more to unpack than a simple thank you. But then he sighs and tugs his hoodie over his head. I get a view of a defined chest with a dark layer of hair that made my mouth water. He’s out of my league, and I need to run before I make a fool of myself.
“You’re welcome.”
I squeeze his hand, say goodbye, and leave him to sleep. Ariel wreathes around my feet as I walk down the hall, making me stumble.
“Don’t you make me fall, princess,” I warn her. “Your daddy is already injured.”
From her meows I take it she doesn’t care; she doesn’t want me to leave. I backtrack to the kitchen and feed her again, hoping she’ll let Echo sleep in. As she crunches on her food, I bend down and tickle her behind her ears. “Take care of yourdaddy,” I whisper. She ignores me, more interested in her food than scritches.
I crunch down the icy stoop, shivering in the cold night air. The temperature has dropped considerably since I brought Echo home. I hope he’s sensible and stays at home tomorrow. A few days with his foot up, and he’ll be fine. I hesitate when I reach the drive. Should I sand the stoop? I see a bucket by the garage and peer in. Sand. Just what I need! I spread it liberally over the stoop and to his car. Fingers crossed he’s not daft enough to move from the couch, but I’ve done what I can.
I’m woken by my phone vibrating across the nightstand. I fling out a hand and amazingly pick it up first attempt and don’t throw my phone across the room…this time.
“Hello?” I mumble as I connect the call.
“Dean.”
I squint at the clock. 7:32. I groan. Too early!
