Page 18 of Falling into Place
He made a face. “She insinuated my getting a cat was pathetic or something. Like I was an old man destined to die alone because of him.”
Carly rolled her eyes. “Where I’m from, we don’t listen to Sasha.”
His place was filled with homey-looking furnishings that were sort of haphazard and slightly mismatched, but somehow it worked. Probably because everything was based in neutrals without any aforementioned pops of color. Never a good idea for those to be unintentional.
The walls were decorated with a few unframed wrapped-canvas art pieces, which she slowed to study as she passed.
His voice came from behind her. “You make a good point, but I listened to her when I bought those.”
“Local artist?” Carly guessed.
“Yeah. Her name is Bek, or something. Has a studio downtown.”
They were beautiful. Abstract and eye catching but still muted in blues, greens, and whites, and quiet in a way that made you want to step closer to see what you might be missing. “Counterproposal: We listen to Sasha when it comes to art, but not when she’s dissing our cats.”
“Deal.” He continued through the kitchen and into his bedroom. “Oreo’s still following you, by the way.”
She barely heard him because she’d just stepped into his bedroom and was struck by two things.
One: It smelled incredible in here, like pine and laundry detergent.
Two: While the rest of the house had been immaculate, this room was a disaster.
Okay, not a disaster, exactly. But his bed was unmade (she had a thing about that), loose papers covered the bedside table, several pairs of scrubs littered a chair in the corner, and two pairs of shoes lay right in the middle of the floor.
Was that a stethoscope on the doorknob?
“Sorry.” He stood a few feet away, watching her, one hand passing across his jaw. “I wasn’t expecting company.”
“Don’t be silly, it’s fine.” She glanced behind her, relieved to see the cat still there. She picked him up gently for something to do with her hands, or else she’d start tidying things up. “You should see my room.”
Everything at her place was perfect, but he didn’t know that. He didn’t look convinced, so she changed the subject to the furballburrowing against her chest, purring like crazy. “I officially love this cat. I might have to steal him.”
“He’s one of those that’s more like a dog than a cat.”
“Those are the best kind.”
He regarded Oreo for a moment. “Him, plus my garden, is what prompted this whole intervention, you know.”
She peeked out his bedroom window, which overlooked the backyard. Sure enough, a tiny raised bed sat out in the back corner. “What’s wrong with having a garden?”
He nodded a little, as if pleased someone was on his side. “Hell if I know.” Then he stopped and twisted his lips to the side, looking strangely vulnerable. “I don’t really know what I’m doing, though.”
“With the garden?”
“Yeah. It was sort of a spontaneous decision, and in hindsight I probably should have done a little more research first.” He leaned his upper back against the wall, and his gaze drifted from her, focusing through the window. “I’d just come off a rough week at work where we lost several patients, and ... I don’t know. I guess after seeing that, I sort of liked the idea of bringing something to life.”
A soft breath whooshed through her lips as she regarded him and the distant look in his eyes. It was the most he’d said to her at once all day. “That’s sad, Brooks. And sort of beautiful.”
“It’ll be beautiful if I can actually grow something. If not, I think I’ll feel even worse.”
The room filled with silence. What could she say to that? Her mind spun, desperate to think of something helpful. “My mom’s a pretty serious gardener. She’ll go on about it for hours if you let her. If you ever have any questions I’d be happy to ask her.”
His eyes swung to hers. “Yeah? Thanks.” He glanced back outside, then at her again, and after a few seconds he pushed off the wall as if he could displace the somber air between them. “Anyway. Sorry I took a turn down that road. Didn’t mean to make it weird.”
“I’m glad you did.” She tipped her head toward the rumpled comforter on his bed. “Because ever since walking in here, I’ve been twitchy with the urge to make that. You crossed the weird line first, so I might as well—”
She let Oreo leap from her arms, but Brooks lurched forward and grabbed her wrist as she moved. “You’renotmaking my bed.”
