Page 31 of Fall Apart

I walk in, not surprised at all to see a room as meticulously decorated and thought out as the rest of the house. Large windows look out over the mountains in the distance. There’s a chair in the corner with an end table and reading lamp, a dresser, and a king sized bed with a gray upholstered headboard.

And the pillows! This bed looks incredibly cozy. I always think of men as having one, maybe two pillows and worn bedding. But this guest bed has shams, pillows, accent pillows - all the bells and whistles. It looks like someone got turned loose with a credit card at a home goods store.

I turn back to look at him. He looks amused but nervous, watching me take in the room. “This is nice, but again you really didn’t have to let me stay here. I’ll look for a place over the weekend. But I appreciate this for tonight.”

He swallows and his jaw tightens. “Yes, I did.” He rolls his back and stands tall in the doorway. “I told you. It was my fault. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you want.”

I hear Ani come down the hall and stop behind Clay. He turns and looks down, patting him on the head. “As for him, he might try to come in the room and sleep with you. He’s kind of clingy. If you don’t want him in here, just lock the door. Otherwise he’ll flip the handle. Not sure how he learned that.”

I let out a laugh and look at the dog. “Well, that’s slightly terrifying, but thanks for the heads up.”

Clay just nods. “Anyways, if you need something, just let me know. I need to take him outside.”

He turns and walks down the hall. I lean against the door and listen as I hear the front door open and close. I set my bags in front of the dresser and plop down on the foot of the bed.

Ok. This bed is soft and comfy. I need to ask him where he got this bedding.

I lay back further, sinking into the cozy bed and finally exhaling after the shit show of a day I’ve had.

This won’t be that bad. I can stay here tonight, maybe the weekend, and find a new place for next week while they fix the condo.

Clay promised he’d make things right and there’s something almost comforting about the way he said it.

I wake up,almost in shock. Not because I’m in Clay’s house, but because I slept better than I have in ages. Maybe it was the stress of everything happening yesterday, but I slept like a rock. Or maybe it was the insanely comfortable bed and not having a noisy upstairs neighbor.

But either way, I slept great. Maybe I should consider staying here after all. But now, my grumbling stomach is screaming at me for food and coffee.

I begrudgingly pry myself out of the warm, cozy bed, put on some socks, and quietly open the door to head to the kitchen.

I don’t know why I’m being so quiet. I remember that Clay gets up at the crack of dawn and has already been at the job site for an hour before I’m even awake.

I walk down the hall, stopping at the office when something catches my eye. When I saw it last night, I was tired and groggy and the books were the only thing I noticed.

So many books.

Fiction novels, books on the history of skiing and racing, books on architecture.

But now, I see the other wall. It’s covered in old skis, framed pictures, and floating shelves with trophies and medals. I step towards it in awe. There are so many medals and trophies from Clay’s juniors and early pro career. So many golds. Still, I feel like Belle, as if you could call Clay abeast, wandering around his home and peering into his life.

There are pictures of him and his ski teams, him on the slopes skiing, and on the podium. But two photos jump out at me. The first is a late teenage Clay with a taller, brown haired woman with an infectious smile. It’s impossible to not see that it’s his mom. They’re in the trees near a black rocky outcropping in typical ski gear, not racing gear, both smiling ear to ear. It’s a smile I have never seen on Clay or could even imagine on him from my interactions with him.

In the second picture, it looks like he’s in his late teens or early twenties. His eyes have already started to take on that hardened look I know. He’s smiling, if you could call it that, with his lips closed and pressed together. More like a grimace. Kayleigh is next to him and her dad is standing behind them. Something doesn’t sit right with me about it. Her dad looks possessive and neither Clay nor Kayleigh look genuinely happy, especially compared to the picture of him with his mom.

I keep walking along the wall, looking at all the pictures. That is until my stomach growls again.

OK, you win stomach. Coffee and food it is.

CHAPTER 16

CLAY

TIGHT

I’m insane.I’ve seriously lost my damn mind.

I jog down the long driveway, enjoying the crisp, cool morning air against my skin and the sound of snow crunching under my running shoes. Ani runs steadily, heeling by my side with his snow boots keeping his paws warm.

We reach the end of the driveway and turn back towards the house, jogging back up the hill. Sure, our morning routine of running laps up and down the long driveway, even in the snow, might seem crazy. And yes, I’m wearing shorts because I like the feeling of the cold air on my achy joints. But that’s hardly crazy compared to what I did yesterday.

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