Page 97 of Crystal Iris
“Thank you for the bags—and for… letting me stay here,” I tell him.
“You’re welcome,” he says, stepping closer. “I want you to feel comfortable here, to do whatever you want. You’re not my guest this time; treat it like it’s your home.”
“Thank you, Hoyt. Really. It feels great to be out of the city’s craziness. Especially during the summer heat.”
He walks over to the couch and turns on the TV. The casualness of us, together, moves me.
“I’m going to go unpack,” I tell him, heading upstairs.
“Remember, like it’s your home.”
I leave smiling.
I’ve brought way too many books and not enough clothes, I realize, looking around. I’ll need to make a trip to a local store at some point.
After putting my things away, I sit on the bed.“Like it’s your home.”His words echo in my mind as I change into something more comfortable. I can’t spend the entire summer worrying about how I look. I need to relax, let go.
I tie my hair up and bring a book downstairs with me. Hoyt isn’t on the couch anymore. I’m about to look for him when his words come to mind again: “Like it’s your home.”
I walk out to the back patio and dip my feet into the water. I open my book, and for the first time in a long while, I have nothing to worry about. Not right now. Everything else can wait.
I read for a couple of hours before Hoyt finds me.
“Hi,” he says, looking at me.
“How long have you been there?”
“I like to watch you read.”
“That’s creepy.”
He laughs. “You look… calm. Lost in the words.”
“There’s nothing that brings me more joy.”
“Not even art?”
“Well, I’m reading about art.”
“I want to take you out tonight.”
“What about my pancakes?” I counter.
“Tomorrow. Tonight, I want to take you out—to a proper dinner.”
“Okay,” I say, getting up. “I’ll go change.”
“Iris?” he calls as I walk away. “I promised to give you space. And I plan on doing that. If I step out of line or if you want me to leave you alone, just say it. Is dinner too much?”
“No, dinner is perfect.”
He nods.
The sun is setting when we leave. The fresh air fills me with life, and I open Hoyt’s windows to let it in.
“You look beautiful,” he tells me.
I glance at him. He’s wearing a button-down shirt and real shoes. No boots.
