Page 22 of Deep Gap

“I ordered it while you were gone. When it came, I chickened out on giving it to you to make the next batch of lip balm organic. Kissing you was—”

“A mistake. I get it. You don’t need to explain and make it more awkward.” I let the box drop to my lap, stroking the raised lettering that says there are multiple shades of dye inside.

“Greer, it was wrong of me not to ask you if it was okay.”

“Because I had a girlfriend?”

“That. And I don’t want you to think you’re indebted to me the way Waylon tried to use you. It’s a slippery slope, Greer. We work together and live together. I don’t want you or anyone else getting the wrong impression.” Byron loops a finger into mine, shaking our joined limbs.

His touch feels comical. And it feels heavenly. And it feels like yet another letdown. No one needs to get the wrong impression. I won’t ruin a good man the way I destroyed the last boy who stole a piece of my heart.

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Jovie’s taken to Greer as a replacement for Tallulah. Little by little, instead of keeping Jov at my side to combat her loneliness, I’ve begun leaving her at home. Greer’s early shift overlaps with mine. By the time I’m headed to work there are only a few hours that Jovie is on her own. It is good for a dog’s independence, and having Greer’s undivided attention—something Jovie had been seeking from me while I was trying to focus on getting the training center’s latest bunch of recruits ship-shape—is working wonders as well.

Greer often has pink cheeks from tossing the ball out in the yard. She doesn’t stay cooped up in her room nearly as much as she had in January. Jov sleeps soundly on the couch between us after dinner. I have intentionally accidentally brushed Greer’s hand when we’ve both reached into the popcorn bowl. Last night, I slid her hips to the side in the kitchen, making light of Greer being in front of the microwave when it beeped. Her eyes widened with what I think was a spark of interest, and she flushed an even prettier rosy shade.

I want less space and more between us. I want to find out how warm that glow is underneath my fingertips. It burned me through the fabric of her worn jeans. I’m uncertain if I’m setting fire to the bridge we’d need to cross and deepening the gap that divides where we are from where I’d rather be.

I’ve never taken it so painfully slow with a woman. I act natural, not wanting to be the asshole that coaxes her into something she’s not ready for and might never be. If there’s an us then, there’s no room for regret. However, I can’t deny the pressure I put on myself to remain a gentleman, slowly showing her what she means to me, is breaking my resilience.

I’m dying a slow death and my skin is tight and chapped from the dry winter air and the number of showers I’ve taken. My dick aches from whacking off and alternately—when I feel guilty for masturbating over a woman who has impressive resolve—my balls ache for the imaginary feeling of emptying myself inside of her.

“Byron, would you mind bringing this to Greer?”

Karen surprises me from behind. I’ve been staring out the break room window at the dormant hives since the last class of the day got out.

I grunt, startled out of my own thoughts, and do a quick body scan before acknowledging the owner. I’ve gotten hard in the car in the afternoons, having to circle the block so that I don’t walk in the house and scare Greer with the tent in my pants.

“Sure. What have you got?” I clear my throat and accept the bag. It pulls at my shoulder, heavier than I expect, piquing my curiosity.

“Five pounds of wax. Greer ran out making the last batch of soap and those cute little lip balm tins. Mac knows she won’t come out and ask to replenish her supply. He had me pack up a bit of what’s stored. Lord knows after a decade tending bees, Mac has more of it coming out of his ears than ear wax.”

I chuckle at Karen’s quip.

“Thanks, Greer will really like this.”

Karen’s right. Greer’s soap making has been on hold. She has plenty of other ingredients, but no wax. That’s why she started hoarding sacks and crocheting mats. When I purchased the gloss color kit, the cost of beeswax struck me. Greer wants to experiment with more than soap and lip balm, but she’s not the type to put her wants first. It’s why I try to do little things for her, like buying those lip balm tins. And why I’m glad Karen walked in here with overloaded arms to resupply Greer.

“I hope so. Anyhow, how is her search going? Has she found a new place to stay yet? Mac and I are still willing to take Greer on. It’s no bother. She can stay as long as she likes. No buses to catch. The walk is shorter.” Karen shakes her head, dispirited at Greer’s aversion to accept a ride from her.

“She hasn’t found a place yet.” Fuck if I let her. “But I’ll pass on the offer. She is a walker alright.” Don’t push her on this.

I recall Greer’s statement that learning to drive is something she’ll avoid at all costs. I respect her boundaries. Karen and Mac should too. Hell, I’m happy for the odd occasion Greer agrees to ride shotgun to the supermarket.

Then again, maybe I’m thankful for Mac pushing me to deliver Greer to her apartment when it rained. Yes, putting it that way makes it less like he was trying to wield control over Greer. The situation is tough. I hold Mac, Karen, and Greer in high regard. But my feelings for Greer are growing and I’m grateful the universe aligned and that she’s safe with me instead of using a plarn sleeping mat on the streets.

“I got a call from Phil,” Karen says, taking me off guard.

“Greer’s last meeting with him is coming up.” I bite down on the gum I can’t stop chewing, nearly biting the inside of my cheek between my molars. I don’t think the topic is appropriate between Karen and me.

“That one problem was the only problem. Now she’s free to do what she wants.”

I lick my lower lip, biting into it. The comment is a matter of perspective. Undoubtedly Greer sees it in a different light. She served her sentence. However, in terms of others’ treatment of Greer over Ellis’s death, she hasn’t fully atoned for her sins.

Karen motions to the bag I’m holding. “There’s a lot more for Greer at our house.” Her tone leaves no room for confusion.

Karen wants Greer to move in.

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