Page 24 of Holiday Love
“Nothing,” I say truthfully.
“How about hobbies? You like to dance?”
A flashback of us dancing together at Gwen’s wedding, then later at the club in Chelsea. How sweat slicked our skin. How Teddy made me laugh. How free I felt. That night had reminded me of how much I loved to dance. My mom, a dancer herself, had put me in classes when I was a toddler. It was a part of me that I’d forgotten in my years of studying for medical school and later residency. I’d traded in my ballet slippers for a stethoscope and never looked back until that night with Teddy. The one that ended up with us in bed together…like we are right now.
I freeze, cataloguing how my knee is draped over his thigh. How his collarbone is nestled under my ear. How my hand is splayed across his chest.
Oh shit.
One day.
We couldn’t make it one day without touching each other.
What would Gwen say if she saw us? What would the hospital say if they found out the man I’ve claimed I barely know is half-naked in my bed right now?
This issonot good.
“Hey, you okay?” Teddy asks, immediately sensing the change in my mood.
No. Not okay. I’m not okay.
Too much. This is too much. I don’t do this comfort, closeness, any of it.
My heart jackhammers against my chest as my entire body goes rigid. Panicking, I fling myself away from him, scooting over to the other side of the bed so no part of us touches. The distance between us stretches wider than the ocean outside my window.
I force out a shaky, “I’m fine. We should go to sleep. Sorry for bothering you.”
A long beat of silence. I keep my eyes on the wall, counting the tiny imperfections in the paint, willing myself not to look at him, but still, I can feel the weight of Teddy’s gaze, evaluating me. I get the sense that he seeswaytoo much, and it makes my skin prickle. With a slow exhale, he shifts, his movements stiff as he grabs for his crutches. He stands, then clomps to the door, where he pauses.
He doesn’t look at me when he says it, but his voice is rough. “You’re never a bother, and, if you need me, I’m here.”
Something tightens in my chest at his words.
I open my mouth to tell him I don’t need him or anyone. That I can handle this on my own, just like I do with everything else. All the stress in my life. Work. Everything that’s going on with my mom.
All I manage is a whisper. “Teddy…”
He waits, just for a second.
But I don’t know what to say, so I don’t say anything at all.
With a short nod, he turns and leaves, the soft thump of his crutches fading into the quiet.
Chapter twelve
Teddy
I don’t sleep that night, just restlessly toss and turn, listening for any sound from Helen’s room. A single whimper and I would run—or, in my case, limp—right back in. Screw whether she wanted me there or not. I wouldn’t, couldn’t, leave her like that. Upset and alone.
But there’s only silence from that side of the condo. Too much silence. Helen’s too quiet, not a peep. I tell myself that she’s asleep, that she’s okay.
I don’t believe it. I want to go to her, but I know better. I made a promise to my sister, and I’ve already crossed boundaries by comforting her in bed, barely dressed.
By four a.m. I’ve had it. I rip off my covers, grab my crutches, and make my way from the bed to the couch. Remote in hand, Isurf through endless TV channels, finding nothing that captures my attention for long. A few hours pass with me channel surfing, until I finally settle on some old disaster movie about a cruise ship flipping upside down, fitting considering my life feels just as wrecked. That’s when I hear the soft creak of Helen’s bedroom door opening.
I go still, eyes trained on the hallway. There’s the shuffle of bare feet. A pause, like she’s considering retreating. Then, finally, she steps into the living room.
I startle at this version of Helen. Her hair sticks up in the back, there’s a pillow crease across one cheek, and her face is pale and drawn. But it’s her eyes that hit me the hardest. They’re shadowed, distant, hollow. Like she’s still somewhere else. Frowning, I trace the dark circles under that haunted gaze. Even though she was silent all night, she clearly wasn’t sleeping. Something about her expression, the way her mouth pulls down at the corners, makes my chest pinch like my ribs have grown thorns.
