Page 41 of The Chad Next Door
I smile, even if it’s not an easy gesture right now. “Do you think I would be lying here on your chest, thinking about kissing you because you can’t run away, if I hated you?”
Though his eyes sparkle, he frowns. “That wasn’t an answer,” he says.
I give him a soft kiss. “I don’t hate you, old man. I’m frustrated with you. But I don’t hate you.” And then, as I shift to get more comfortable, I accidentally bump his foot with mine and pull another groan out of him.
“I’m getting mixed messages,” he grumbles.
Grinning, I press my lips to his again and hope it makes up for my accidental touch. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to do that. How does such a big strong man have such a low pain tolerance? I am terrified of seeing you with a cold.”
“Yeah, you’ll want to be far away if that ever happens.”
“At least you admit it.”
“I know who I am.”
I run my hand through his short hair, studying his face as he studies mine in turn. This weekend has felt like an eternity. Within that eternity, I’ve come to know who he is too, and I am terrified of how much I love him. That can’t be normal, being afraid of love, but I am. It’s like we’re teetering on the edge of a precipice with no way of knowing what’s at the bottom if we fall. We can stay where we are and play it safe, keeping everything at the surface when it comes to our relationship, or we can take that leap and see where we land.
We may end up battered and broken, but I’ve already had the rug pulled out from under me. My life has pivoted a hundred and eighty degrees, and maybe it looks nothing like how I thought it would, but I know it’s good. I know how scary it is to fall, but I also know it’s worth it.
Does he?
Is he willing to take the leap and risk it all?
I trace my fingers along his face and touch each blemish and flaw, cataloging everything that makes him unique while he lays there in quiet stillness. I’m not sure he’s ready to make that jump yet, and that’s okay. But I hope he finds the courage soon. I may be younger than him, but I’ve seen how easily a life can be cut short. I don’t want to waste any time.
“I’m going to say something that you’re not going to like,” I whisper.
His gaze hardens with fear, but he nods. “Okay.”
Getting as close to him as I can without actually kissing him, I speak against his mouth. “I am going to kick your butt in Mario Kart.”
* * *
The kids go straight to bed after I pick them up from Hank’s, though Zelda graciously takes a moment to ask Chad if his foot is feeling better. She asks that question while helpfully adjusting his foot pillow for him, and I’m impressed with the way he clenches his jaw and says nothing. I think he’s learned his lesson when it comes to speaking while he’s in pain, and he’s trying.
When I’m tucking him in, Link quietly asks if Duke has come back yet, and I don’t know what to tell him. “He might come back tomorrow,” is what I end up saying, but I know it hits Link hard. I don’t think he’s going to sleep well tonight, and I don’t blame him.
I go straight to Chad’s room instead of heading to the living room, though I’m not sure why I suddenly want to avoid the man. I definitely didn’t avoid him this afternoon. We played about two rounds of Mario Kart before Chad realized I was epically bad at the game and decided to make out with me instead, which was a lot more fun. I guess maybe everything is feeling really big right now, and I’m not sure how to deal with it, so I slide into the covers of Chad’s bed and immediately start wishing I was out there with him instead.
I don’t have to wish for long. I’ve been lying here for five minutes max before I hear the crutches clomping across the floor, complete with grunts of pain as he makes his way across the house. He surprises me by knocking, but when I pretend to be asleep, he opens the door and flicks on the light.
“Why are you avoiding me?” he asks.
I squint, temporarily blinded by the sudden light. “I’m not avoiding you.” I’m totally avoiding him.
“I thought you only say what you mean, Hope. What did I do?” He cringes. “I mean, aside from all the things this morning.”
He looks so pitiful and repentant that I cave immediately and reach out for him.
Sighing with relief, he hobbles inside, sets his crutches against the dresser, and then collapses next to me with his arm over top of me and his head resting on my shoulder. Cuddling like this is the last thing I would have expected from someone like him, and I love the way he isn’t shy about how much he just wants to be next to me. “Thank you. I won’t stay for long.”
“I’m just trying to process things,” I tell him, surprising myself with that admission. He always makes it so easy to be honest because that’s how he is himself. “It’s a lot harder to process when all I can think about is kissing you.”
“Yeah, I know the feeling.” He plays with the end of my hair, breathing deeply as we lie there. “Anything I can do to help?”
I think this will just take time, something we haven’t had a lot of so far. It was less than two months ago that Bailey died, and I’m still adjusting to my new life with the kids. Adjusting to Chad is a whole different story, one that I really do want to see through to the end. We’re in the messy middle right now, which always gets more complicated before it gets better. That’s how the good stories go, anyway.
I’m not trying to compare my life to books or anything, but this will be easier if I feel like I know where things are headed.
