Page 71 of Seeds of Christmas
I rescued Rhi. Actually figured out how to get her out safely, used what my dad taught me, didn’t panic.
I slept with Rhi.
Holy shit.
What do I do now?
I usually never sleep over at a hook-up’s house. I don’t know how to navigate the morning after, how to make things less awkward.
I stare at my reflection—messy hair, still wearing yesterday’s clothes, looking like I got hit by a truck but also like I might be…happy?
“Don’t fuck this up,” I tell myself quietly.
Then I head back out to not fuck this up.
When I come back, Rhi’s awake. She’s sitting up on the thin bed, hair sicking up everywhere, looking around like she’s trying to remember where she is.
“Morning, Happy Christmas Eve,” I say.
“Morning. Happy Christmas Eve to you too.” Her voice is rough with sleep. Then she notices the couch, notices me, and her face goes pink. “Did we—did I fall asleep on you?”
“Little bit, yeah.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to?—”
“Rhi, it’s fine. More than fine.” I sit down next to her, careful not to crowd her. “How’s your ankle?”
She looks down at it as if she had forgotten it even exists. “Swollen. But okay.”
It’s not okay. Even from here I can see it’s worse than yesterday. The compression bandage is tight, and there’s visible swelling above and below it.
“We should ice it,” I say.
“We don’t have ice.”
“We have snow. Close enough.” I stand. “Stay there. I’ll be right back.”
I pack the towel with snow from outside, bring it back, and carefully place it on her ankle.
She winces. “That’s cold.”
“That’s the point.”
“I hate it.”
“I know. Keep it there anyway.”
She gives me a look that suggests she’s only tolerating this because she knows I’m right.
I love that look.
Oh god, I’m in so deep.
After coffee and scrambled eggs, where I reject Rhi’s offer of mayonnaise in my eggs, we sit down to plan for the day.
I’ve been eyeing her ankle since she woke up. It’s worse. Definitely worse. The swelling has spread above the compression bandage, and there’s a purple tinge that makes my stomach twist.
“We should probably skip the data collection today,” I say, trying to sound casual about it.
