No.
He would have to wait. Once I got under his covers, I wasn’t confident I’d be able to make myself get out again.
I opened every drawer and door in the room as adistraction, but all the empty space gave me a sense of dread right alongside the muted anticipation.
I could fill these spaces.
Then I’d have to empty these spaces.
I scooped up my duffel and slung it into the closet a little more aggressively than I meant to. It hit the wall with a thud.
Oh shit.
I fell to my knees and inspected the wall with my phone flashlight.
My shoulders slumped in shame. There was a small dent. I unzipped the bag and pulled out my partner in crime.
Gil’s tool belt, the one he’d technically given me but would probably always feel like his, weighed down with his well-loved tools and my guilt.
I’d almost not taken it from my locker earlier, but it hadn’t felt right leaving it there.
I opened the bottom drawer of the bedside table and carefully placed the tools inside, then shut them away.
A couple of the drawers had stuck when I opened them, which was something he’d taught me to fix.
And I would.
But not today.
A soft rap on my door drew my attention.
“Ireland?” Adair’s deep voice rang out, and I closed my eyes against the sound of it. “You okay? Delly says it sounded like something might’ve fallen?”
I walked toward his voice and reached for the knob, but then his voice sounded again, and I froze, my hand hovering in the air.
There was a short, hushed conversation between the siblings on the other side of my door, and then Adair cleared his throat. “Anyway, I promise we won’t make ahabit of knocking on your door. We’re headed out for now. We’ll, um, catch you later… Ireland.”
He tagged my name on the end as if he were still testing it out. My hand dropped to my side, and I strained my ears, listening as they left. Once I was sure they were gone, I eased out to double-check the lock on the front door. The sudden silence in the house was deafening, but I felt some relief when I saw the lock on the knob and the deadbolt were secured.
At least that suggested they weren’t careless.
Enthusiastic, bright, and a bit rowdy, sure.
All three times I’d encountered Adair, he’d tried to help me in some way.
That wasn’t a fluke—it was a pattern. Something inherent to who he was.
With soft footsteps developed by years of dance, I padded back to my room and closed the door behind me. I turned the lock on the knob once it closed to make sure it actually locked. I was going to take advantage of the shower while they were gone so the paranoia of waiting for Adair to walk into the bathroom or acknowledge my existence in any way would be at a minimum.
My cosmetic bag with travel-sized bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and bodywash was stuffed to the side of my duffel. I eased it out with more care than necessary, along with another set of athletic clothes.
I grabbed the towels I needed from the closet, stripped out of my clothes, then eyed the many knobs in the shower before turning one at random.
A stream of water burst from the removable showerhead mounted at the midpoint of the wall—one of three in the overlarge cubicle—and I gasped as it hit the transparent glass on the other side like a bullet.
Jesus.
That had to be a liability.
