Page 47 of Revelry
It sounded simple, but in reality it made my throat close in, because how could I know that’s what Anderson wanted at all? Was he even thinking about me, about any of this? What if he’d just wanted to get laid, would he even come back the next day? Did he think he was a rebound?Washe a rebound?
The broom slipped from my hands and I growled in frustration, hooking it against the side of the fridge before giving in and tugging on my boots. There was no way I’d get sleep with my anxiety clawing at me from the inside trying to escape. So I pulled it out willingly, and I walked it down to Anderson’s cabin on a tightly bound leash.
I felt like the stupidest girl in the world every step I took toward his place, especially since IknewI was overreacting. Nothing needed to be figured out tonight, and yet I couldn’t stop thinking. So before I could talk myself out of it, I knocked on his door.
His shades were drawn, so I couldn’t see anything until he swung the door open. He didn’t invite me inside, though—just slipped out and onto the porch, wearing only his gray cotton sleep pants, the edges of his briefs just visible where they rose higher on his hips than the pants.
“Wren? You okay?”
“Define okay.”
He frowned, closing the door behind him and stepping into me. His arms fit around me easily, like he was meant to hold me, and though it should have calmed me I only freaked out more.
“What’s going on?”
“I don’t know,” I said, hands flying up before I let them smack against my sides again. “Everything was fine and then you left and I started thinking—abouteverything—and now I just don’t know what to do. Listen, if all you wanted was a little action that’s totally fine but I just... I need to know. I need you to be honest with me. I swear, I can take it. I’m not clingy. I’m just new to all this, you know? I haven’t dated since high school.” I blanched. “Not that we’re dating. That’s not what I meant. I’m not saying you have to take me out on dates or that we’re in a relationship. God, I know we only slept together once.” I smacked my hand against my forehead. “This sounded so much more sane in my own head.”
Anderson laughed, his knuckles finding my chin and tilting it up toward him. “Hey, it’s okay. My mind has been racing, too.”
I let out a relieved breath. “Really?”
“Really,” he confirmed. “I don’t know what we’re doing either, Wren. I don’t. I wish I had all the answers. But, I can tell you this.” He searched my eyes, hand sliding up until his thumb brushed my ear and his fingers cradled my neck. “I’m into you. Last night wasn’t about sex, even though that was incredible. I like talking to you, I like listening to you, and I want to spend more time with you. I know you’re going through your own struggles, and so am I, but I also think we want to be around each other. And for now, that’s enough for me.”
“So you’re coming back tomorrow?”
He smiled. “Eight o’clock on the dot.”
My eyes fluttered closed and I sighed, annoyed at myself but relieved all at once. “I’m sorry,” I said, opening my eyes again to focus on his. “I swear I’m not crazy. I just needed to hear it, I needed to hear that we were on the same page.”
“And are we?”
This time I laughed. “I think so. Everything you said is exactly how I feel, so I guess we’ll just figure the rest out as we go, huh?”
“Sounds like the most logical thing to do.”
He pulled me into him, kissing my forehead sweetly before pulling back again. “Go get some sleep. I promise, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I nodded. “Okay. I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing for how you feel.”
I paused at that, because I realized that was exactly what I’d been doing for so long now it almost felt natural.
“Sorry.”
He cocked an eyebrow and I laughed, pecking his lips before skipping down his steps and down the drive.
“See you tomorrow!” I called out behind me, and the rest of the walk home I had an immovable smile in place.
So we didn’t have all the details worked out, did it really matter? We wanted to know more about each other, we wanted to explore—both bodies and minds. The feelings were mutual, and that felt like enough.
Honestly, what was the worst that could happen?
After that, my hands did a lot less work on the house and a lot more work on Wren.
I was still there, damn near every day, fixing the floorboards and mending the stove. I was still chopping firewood, cleaning and curing the hot tub, and even helping her make wooden signs for the pig roast. But she was more of a distraction now, and I was less inclined to resist her.
She’d pass the mornings at her sewing machine, working on my tattered clothes I should have trashed years ago while I dirtied the ones I wore crawling around on her floor. In the afternoons, she’d sketch in her notebook on the front porch while I worked in the yard. We didn’t overanalyze the nights we spent in her bed. We took longer lunches, talking more, working less—and laughing.
