Page 32 of Love and Other Chances

For the first time in a very, very long time, I close my eyeshopingto dream about Brooks.

Muted morning light barely filters through the blinds when my eyes flutter open. My body and head still hurt, but it’s a dull pain compared to last night. Throat scratchy, I roll to the side and take a drink from the glass of water left on my nightstand. As much as I don’t want to leave the cocoon of my bed, I need to use the bathroom.

Wrapping the throw blanket around my shoulders, I pad across the room with sleepy eyes, not fully awake. As I exit my door into the hallway, my foot trips on something. Yelping, I nearly fall over.

It’s Brooks. Lying on the floor of the hallway outside my room with a couch throw pillow and my pink comforter.

Between me accidentally kicking him and loudly yelping, he jerks up, startled awake.

“I’m sorry!” we both cry out. Brooks quickly stands up, and now we’re inches away from each other in the tight hallway.

“I didn’t mean to trip you. I had an alarm set to hopefully wake up before you did,” Brooks says, hair disheveled and eyes blinking awake. The day’s worth of stubble on his face adds to the sexy, sleepy vibe.

NO! Not sexy. Stop thinking that word about Brooks!

“I’m sorry I kicked you,” I say, voice shrill. “What were you doing lying on the floor?”

“Um, ah,” Brooks fumbles a response. “I just . . . I felt like it might be an intrusion to sleep in your room, but I wanted to be close by in case you needed anything. I didn’t want to miss it if you called out—I’m a heavy sleeper.”

“I know you are,” I whisper. We stare at each other in the near-darkness, conflicting emotions weighing down the air between us.

“I was just on my way to the bathroom,” I say suddenly, voice too loud for the quiet hour. Pushing past Brooks, I close myself in the bathroom, breathing deeply.

Looking in the mirror, I wince. I resemble an apocalypse zombie. Hair is sticking out everywhere from my braid; my skin is pale, and my eyes are glassy. Even my lips managed to become grossly chapped, even though they were perfectly moisturized this time yesterday.Fantastic. There’s a sure-fire way to make sure Brooks keeps his distance.

Despite the need for that distance, I still take an extra moment to splash water on my face, brush my teeth, and quickly rebraid my hair. By the time I walk out into the living room, Brooks is armed with more water, medication, and cinnamon toast.

I take a seat at the dining table, pulling one foot up to prop my chin on my knee. Brooks sits down next to me. “Feeling any better?” he asks.

Nodding slightly, I swallow a bite of toast before answering. “Still achy, but not as bad.”

Brooks reaches over and places the backs of his fingers against my forehead. “Still warm, but not on fire like you were yesterday,” he murmurs. His eyes find mine as his fingers trace down the side of my forehead, brushing a strand of hair away in one smooth movement. “You had me scared for a little bit there, Sneaks.”

Blood freezes in my veins at the sound of his old nickname for me on his lips.

I stare in shock for a moment before finally whispering, “Don’t call me that.”

Brooks flinches. “I’m . . . I’m sorry, Teegan,” he says.

Despite my recent challenges with balance and movement, I spring to my feet. “Thank you for coming over, for bringing medicine, and for staying with me until I felt better. I’m feeling fine now, so you can head home and get on with your weekend.” I’m speed talking as I move toward the front door, hoping he follows me.

“Teegan, hang on,” Brooks begins, standing to his feet. “Please just let me—”

“I’m fine, Brooks,” I assert, voice too loud again. “Thank you for the help, but you really can go now.”

He’s looking at me with so much ofeverythingin his eyes. I’m trapped by the weight of us.

“I can still—”

“Brooks, please!” My voice cracks. “Pleasego so I can . . . so I can go back to sleep. I’ll be fine. I’m fine now.” There’s a pleading in my voice that I can’t control, can’t stop from begging him to leave and let me escape this moment.

“Okay.” His voice is quiet, resigned. He slips his arms into his jacket and his feet into his shoes. When he stands, he looks into my eyes, but I can’t hold his gaze. “Set an alarm to take more meds in three hours. Please text me if you need anything, Teegan.”

My voice is a traitor, so I nod instead of speaking. I manage to squeak out a small “thanks” before I close the door behind him.

I stare at the space he occupied, sobs building in my chest but refusing to escape.

It’s been just long enough that I forgot why I needed to forget him.

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