Page 17 of Take Me Home

“I’m sorry,” I reached for her arm. “Did I come at a bad time?”

“No, not at all,” Darcy said, her voice quivering to indicate that it was definitely a bad time. “What brings you up here so late?”

Fuck, I was intruding. But I really did need the internet.

“The WiFi down at the trailer isn’t working so good, and I’ve got a few sketches I need to submit for my thesis. Do you mind if I try from here?” I used my softest voice to talk to her, trying to be sensitive to whatever was going on with her.

“Oh gosh, yes, of course. I’m sorry it’s not working better down there! I should check the routers,” she said quickly, ushering me into the kitchen.

“Thanks, I really appreciate it.” I paused, looking her over again. The tip of her nose was red from crying, and it was so fucking cute and endearing and sad that I wanted to do anything to make it better. “Are you sure you’re okay? I’m here if you want to talk.”

She studied me, seemingly deciding if she could trust me or not. I tried to somehow communicate telepathically:You can trust me, babe.She clearly didn’t pick up my vibe. “I…why don’t you get your sketches sent in? I’ve got to finish these dishes anyway.”

I sat at the island and cracked open my laptop. “Sorry I left you with all those dishes. You know I’m always game to help.”

Darcy gave me a weak smile. “I do know that about you. But clearly, you have important things you need to be working on. I’m glad you’re doing those things.”

We worked in quiet, her washing dishes and me working through a few emails. She had a Chris Stapleton record on, the one with Tennessee Whiskey. I watched her at the sink with her back to me. I thought about what she might say if I asked her to dance right then. Would she give in to me? Would it make her laugh, or smile again? Would she let me hold her?

A short sniffle came from her direction letting me know that no, she was not okay. My work was finished, so I closed my laptop.

“Sent! Thanks for letting me intrude on your evening.”

“Yeah, of course. You’re always welcome here,” she said, smiling carefully. Her eyes were wet with tears that she held in. Time for me to really be there for her, or at least try. I stood and leaned against the counter.

Raised mainly by my mom and my two sisters, I wasn’t afraid of tears or emotions. I felt confident I could be a good friend in this situation.

“Hey, I don’t know what’s got you down and it’s not my business, but can I make you a cup of tea?”

The way her face lit up about killed me. I’d done exactly the right thing. I wanted to capture that expression of hers and eat it. One thing was clear: someone had really hurt her in the past. I longed to fix her heartache.

She looked up at me through wet lashes with a watery laugh. “Sure. That’s really nice of you. You don’t have to,” she said.

“I know I don’t. I want to,” I said softly, heading for the tea kettle and filling it with water. She pulled a tray with a selection of tea bags on it out of a cabinet.

“Want to join me?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder at me.

“Thought you’d never ask,” I grinned at her. I reached over her to pull down two mugs for us. She held out the tray for me to pick my tea bag. This whole thing had clearly cheered her up already, but I wasn’t done.

“You know, I’ve been told I’m a pretty good hugger, too,” I started. “If that’s something that interests you. No pressure if not.”

Her bloodshot eyes met mine. She twisted her lips to chew on the corner of them, finally nodding. I opened my arms and stepped toward her, pulling her close to me.

“C’mere,” I coaxed her.

Her head found its way to my chest, and I rested my chin on the top of it. She felt so right in my arms, such a perfect fit as her arms wrapped under mine. You know when you hug somebody that’s just the right person, and all your muscles just ooze out this relaxed feeling? I got that from Darcy.

She gave out a tiny little sigh that curled my lips up with its cuteness. I took a deep breath, getting a whiff of that delicious shampoo smell of hers. She let out one of those jagged post-crying breaths and I squeezed her tighter, humming into her hair.

“It’s okay,” I whispered as she nuzzled a little closer. Fuck, I didn’t want this hug to end. It wasn’t just horniness this time, though feeling all of her softness against me was enticing. I liked that she was leaning on me emotionally. I wanted to be a support for her. She patted my back twice, letting me know she was done hugging, holding onto my waist as we parted.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

“Anytime,” I said, desperately wanting to wipe the little tear that hung at the edge of her eye.

She gave a soft laugh. “It’s true. You are a good hugger.” She popped up to sit on the counter next to the sink and promptly changed the subject while the water for our tea continued to heat. “What’s your thesis project?”

“Still trying to make a proposal that won’t get rejected. Tonight I submitted a fruit-picking machine. Those already exist, but I’m trying to make a better one. One that can do more varieties of fruit in the same apparatus,” I said, running a hand through my hair. The project was on my last fucking nerve at that point, as was my advisor who kept shooting down what I sent. Darcy’s eyebrows raised a little, looking impressed by my technical talk.

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