Chapter 13

McKenna

I woke up sometime after eight to two arms pulling me off Gavin’s couch. Soft footsteps thumped beneath me on the floor, jostling me slightly against a chest as we walked down a dark hall. When I turned my head to settle against his shirt, I inhaled, smelling Gavin’s scent. I’d grown to enjoy it way more than I should have lately.

Not bothering to fight him, I’d played like I was asleep. The embarrassment over me falling asleep on his couch while I waited for him to come home so I could cook dinner felt a bit clingy. I was an emotional mess of hormones as it was, and the last thing I needed was for him to look at me with pity and set me off.

Once he was out for the night, I’d leave, this time through the door. Yet the second he laid me in his soft, cozy bed and covered my body with his warm blankets, I realized how hard my escape would be.

The lights flickered off, and I heard the rustle of clothes and a belt clinking against the floor. On my side and facing away from him, I could easily open my eyes, knowing he wouldn’t see my face. But I kept them closed, willing the moment to be a dream. Or the moment to hurry up so I could leave. The ease with which he handled me and did this whole bedtime thing was far too couple-ish for a girl with commitment phobia.

“I know you’re awake.”

I stiffened. The mattress sank as he moved to lie next to me. But instead of getting under the covers, he stayed on top and pulled a separate blanket over himself. I bit my lip, having no idea how to respond.

“I’m so fucking sorry I’m late. I’m a jackass.”

“It’s okay.” He wasn’t that late. And it’s not like I was waiting out in the chilly air or anything. Besides that, he’d warned me.

When I got to his place a little before seven, I’d texted him that I was there. He’d told me to use his spare key under the doormat to let myself in. Apparently, he’d had something come up but would be there within the hour. I told him that it was okay, I didn’t mind waiting, but twenty minutes into doing so, I’d fallen asleep. Pregnancy exhaustion was a total bitch.

“Chloe broke her arm today, and I’ve been worried about her. Then I had something else come up, and I lost track of time trying to work through it all.”

Part of me was dying to know what he’d had to work through, but I didn’t have a right to know anything about his life. I was his…friend? Acquaintance? Oh, and let’s not forget the mother of his child.

“It’s just been a shitty day all around,” he finished.

“I’m sorry your day was shitty.” I pressed my hands between my cheek and the pillow, keeping still. If I spoke any more or rolled over to face him, I’d crack and tell him everything. Sure, that had been the original plan for tonight. Cook him dinner, only to sit him down after and break the news once his tummy was full and his eyes were half-shut. I was going to tell him not to worry, that I’d thought it over, and he didn’t need to take any responsibility for this child.

But now, with his soft voice, his proximity, and my half-sleepy state doing mushy-gooey things to my already whacked-out hormones, I could barely string two words together.

“It’s not okay. I’m so damn sorry I’m late.” My biggest fear came true as he moved to lie close to my backside. He didn’t wrap an arm around my waist, nor did he make a move to snuggle in any way, but he did reach up and pull some of my hair off my shoulder.

Gavin was on the verge of a major cuddle moment.

And I was too needy to push him away.

“It is. I promise.” I’d fallen asleep on his couch like Goldilocks, yet felt no shame in being cuddled in his bed with lies that could break us both.

If there was such a thing as a person who deserved to go to hell, other than the obvious bad people, I would be the prime candidate.

A heavy breath escaped him, and I could feel it across my shoulder and neck. I shivered, unable to stop myself from arching my back and getting closer. His hand skimmed my waist, just beneath the bottom of my shirt.

He leaned over and kissed the back of my head. “Go to sleep. In the morning, I’ll take you to breakfast to make up for tonight.”

I nodded once, barely moving as he turned away from me. My shoulders fell in disappointment.

“And, Kenna?”

“Hmm?” I didn’t trust my voice.

“Please don’t leave in the middle of the night.”

“What if I have to pee?” I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth, trying not to grin.

He chuckled softly. “Then go. Just no more Cinderella moments, okay?”

I narrowed my eyes. Cinderella? As in… “Oh, my boot.”

“What’d you say?”

“Nothing.”

“Hmm.”

Several minutes later, with his warm back pressed solidly against mine, I found my nerves easing and my guard lowering further. “She’ll be okay.”

“Who?” he asked, his voice crackly with sleep.

“Chloe. The break was clean. And since she’s so young, even if she does wind up needing surgery, it’ll heal quickly.”

He shifted in the bed, turning toward me again. “How’d you know she broke her arm?”

“I was there. I worked today, remember?”

“Shit. I forget everything.”

Slowly, my bravery took over, and I turned onto my other side to face him. In the dark, I could just make out the outline of his cheek, his beard too. I clutched my hands together so I wasn’t tempted to reach out and touch him. Ever since my trip to Maine last winter, I’d developed a weird thing for lumber-sexual men. I think it was because my ex wasn’t hairy in the least. If anything, Paul had less hair than I did.

I squeezed my eyes shut at the thought of him. Somehow, I’d managed not to think about the guy for a solid month…yet one night in bed with another man—even clothed—and my thoughts conjured up Paul.

“Can’t sleep?” Gavin searched my eyes in the dark.

Our faces were still a few inches apart, yet I felt closer to him than I should.

“Not really.” That was a lie. Because if I shut my eyes, I’d no doubt fall asleep in a heartbeat, something I struggled to do at home. In the bed I used to share with the ex. Before he started sharing beds with a couple of someone elses.

“Me either.”

“Why?” I asked, because I was a glutton for punishment and suddenly wanted to know everything about this man—the man I wasn’t supposed to want to know.

“Got a lot on my mind.”

“I’m a good listener.” I smiled. So did he. It was rare, and I could barely see it in the dark, but I knew it was there. A smiling Gavin was pure brilliance.

“I go back to work on Monday, for one.”

I frowned. “What do you mean, go back to work?”

He rolled onto his back and looked at the ceiling. “I’ve been suspended for a month for…losing my temper.”

“No shit?” I laughed. Which wasn’t the most appropriate reaction, but I couldn’t help myself. It was what I did when I didn’t know how to react to certain circumstances.

“Not funny,” he grumbled.

I snorted again, then slapped my hand over my mouth, because, hello? Rude much, Kenna? “I know it’s not funny. I’m sorry. It’s just…when I don’t know how to react to something, I laugh. Like, it’s a stress-management thing. It’s an actual condition.” I brought my thumb to my mouth and started biting on what little nail I had left. “For instance, when I first started out as a nurse, a man came into the ER, which is where I did a lot of my training, and he literally had a rash from head to toe. It was the most disgusting thing I’d ever seen, yet when I looked at him, I had no idea what to say. I, like, froze up. And because of that, I wound up laughing. I laughed so hard, I started to cry. It was…awful.”

“Laughter is a mild form of hysteria.”

“What do you mean?”

Gavin sighed, letting his hands fall to his sides. The backs of his knuckles grazed the front of my thighs in the process, but he didn’t move them closer, nor did he move them away.

“Take, for example, when someone laughs at something really hard. They say it was ‘hysterical.’ There’s a fine line between laughing and crying. That’s the reason why people cry when they get happy, like when you go to a wedding.”

“Mr. Psychological is in the house.” If I could have whooped in that moment, I probably would have—but, tact. I needed to learn it. Who knew Mr. St. James could be so insightful?

“A person’s mind isn’t great at deciding which reaction is appropriate in certain situations,” he continued, ignoring my smart mouth. “Which is why you laughed at the man with a rash, and why you laughed when you learned I’d been suspended.”

Through a yawn I said, “That makes sense.” More sense than anyone had made for me on any subject I’d struggled with. “Growing up, I always looked at things a little differently than most.”

“Yeah?”

I nodded. “I was shipped away to live with my father as a teenager because dear old Mom called me the socially unacceptable child with the loud mouth and no impulse control.”

“So? I like that you’re impulsive.”

He rolled back to face me again, laying a hand on my hip. Grinning, he squeezed it lightly. I moved closer, instead of away, letting our hips press together. For once in my life, I was determined to let intimacy win out.

“My parents didn’t see it that way. Mother dear took me to three separate psychiatrists until one finally diagnosed me with impulsivity.”

“Had to be hard.” His smile faltered.

“It was. Mom wanted me to be the perfect southern daughter. But I didn’t fit into her life plan. That’s why she shipped me away, remarried, and adopted my stepsiblings.”

I couldn’t stop myself from doing some things in my life, no matter how many times I was told the behavior was unacceptable. I spoke out loud at inopportune times, saying random stuff that made no sense to anyone but myself. I also picked at my scabs, bit my nails down to nothing, and rubbed at my nose and my eyes constantly. I had tics, I guess you could say.

Luckily, I’d grown out of most of them, other than biting my nails obsessively. But sadly, I’d pushed those tics into other areas of my life. I talked too much and still said inappropriate things. And my life decisions were impulsive. For instance, I was really bad at picking boyfriends, which I’d finally figured out with Paul. If Gavin knew about all my strange quirks, he’d probably run for the hills. Which would be perfect. Well, if I wasn’t carrying his child.

“I’m sorry you went through that.” He studied me through the dark. It was as if he had super X-ray vision and could make out every inch of my face, every line, every freckle. With Gavin, I felt exposed.

“Why were you suspended?” I finally asked, needing to break the moment.

Just like that, his intensity disappeared and in its place was a mask of…nothingness. The same one I put on constantly myself. Guess we had more in common than I’d thought.

“A guy was running his mouth at me.”

“And let me guess…” I poked him gently in the ribs. “You had to show him who’s boss, right?” I grinned, trying to play it off as a joke, but he didn’t respond to it that way. Didn’t bat an eye or show even a shadow of emotion.

Cringing, I propped my head up on my hand, bringing our faces closer. “I’m sorry. You know I was kidding. I’m sure you had a great reason for—”

“Breaking his nose with my fist?”

“Oh.” I cringed again.

“Yeah, oh is right,” he scoffed. “Took two guys to pull me off him, and if it wasn’t for the fact that he was sexually harassing one of the female EMTs, I would’ve gotten into a hell of a lot more trouble than I did. Four weeks of suspension is enough as is.”

“Jesus.” I hadn’t heard about that. Then again, the EMTs ran in their own circles outside the hospital. They were our delivery people; at least, that’s what the nurses tended to call them.

“Not really something I wanted advertised. Besides, he was fired—with compensation, if you can believe that—while I was put on unpaid leave.”

“Bullshit.” I narrowed my eyes. “Sounds to me like you were trying to defend that woman, yet you got the shit end of the deal.”

Gavin’s brows furrowed as he spoke. “In the world of adulting, you apparently have to go to a supervisor to report certain behaviors.” His voice became mocking as he finished. “Fighting with your hands in a workplace environment is deemed the most irresponsible thing a person in the medical field can do.”

I snorted, remembering that night Gavin and I hooked up. Remembering my fist plowing into that preppy kid’s face because of what he said to me. “It sounds like you’ve had some experience with Jayla in HR.”

A real smile graced his lips, sending a shot of warmth into my chest. “She’s never been a marine.”

“And she also wasn’t raised by a father who fought for money on the weekends at an illegal underground club, while leaving his daughter at home alone—from age thirteen to seventeen—in a one-bedroom shack in the worst part of a town. I would’ve totally punched that bastard too.”

Gavin mirrored my position, propping his head on one hand. He moved his hand from my waist and pressed his palm against my cheek. His grin was gone, replaced by silence and a locked jaw. “That really happened to you?”

“Maybe.” I shrugged, hating how easily I could blurt things out with him. It reminded me of Paul. But with that asshole, I’d believed in false promises about never letting someone hurt me again.

Gavin, on the other hand, didn’t offer me false possibilities of protection. Instead, he offered me ears and a nod—and a little bit of himself too. “I had a pretty shitty upbringing myself.”

“Yeah?”

He nodded. “Before I was shifted to my first foster home,” he started, heaving a giant sigh, “I lived with my uncle until I was ten. He…wasn’t a good man. Had no interest in raising a kid who’d just lost both parents, not even when one of them was his own fucking brother. He was cranky and walked with a cane that he used to beat me when I didn’t do my chores the right way.”

I gasped, touching his chest with my free hand. Beneath my palm, his heartbeat was steady, which surprised me for such a wretched memory. “Oh, Gavin.”

He squeezed his eyes shut as he continued, almost as though this was something he’d been holding in for so long that he couldn’t stop talking.

I could relate. So very much.

“When DCFS came and found out I hadn’t been going to school, mainly because he didn’t bother to register me and didn’t have the money to pay for it, I become a ward of the state.”

I sucked in a breath, waiting for him to continue. Part of me wanted him to stop talking. A part that said If you know him, you won’t be able to walk away from him. But a tiny part of me—okay, a huge part of me—did want to hear what made up the mystery that was Gavin St. James. Which is why I didn’t interrupt him or make a joke or even try to distract him with sex.

For the first time in a long time, I just listened.

“My first year, I went through six different foster homes. After a couple of months, most of the people who’d taken me in decided they didn’t want broken ten-year-old boys. Babies and toddlers were easier.”

“More bullshit,” I blurted out. “Babies and toddlers are hell.” I shuddered, then cringed when I remembered how in eight months, I’d be popping out one of those.

Fingers brushed against my chin, and I reopened my eyes, finding him even closer, our lips nearly touching. “Gotta agree with you there, but I wasn’t exactly an easy kid.”

My heart skipped as one side of his mouth curved up. An image ran through my mind as he studied me: a baby boy with a grin, his father’s green eyes, and my blond hair.

Panic forced my stomach into knots, and I rolled over onto my back, needing distance.

He sighed, the sound filled with disappointment, but resolve at the same time. “The point of the story is, at the last house where I stayed through my high school graduation, I had a pretty good foster family. A foster mom named Heidi, a foster dad named Jake, and an older foster brother, Adam, who was huge on all things sports, including that underground fighting shit.” He laughed softly under his breath. “Seventeen years old and he’d sneak out at night, then come back later with a wad of cash and promises to get us to college.” Gavin moved onto his back too, but his hand was down, and before I could protest, he laced our fingers together. As much as I knew I should move away, I couldn’t.

“He was awesome, always standing up for me. Introduced me to baseball and football. Pretty much any sport I wanted to learn, he’d teach me about it.”

My words were a whisper as I said, “He sounds amazing.”

“He was.”

And just like that, Gavin’s mask went back into place. Only this time, I didn’t see it. I heard it, felt it. I waited for him to finish his story. To tell me what he meant by was. But by the time I turned my head to ask him, his breaths had evened out and his lips were parted in sleep. His chest rose and fell, up and down. I watched, soothed by another’s breaths—soothed by his story, even if it wasn’t necessarily happy.

And as I studied him in the dark, I came to the sad conclusion that Gavin was pretty much just like me. Someone with a shitty past but a future full of possibilities—including one currently swimming like a flea in my lower abdomen.

That’s when I decided to do what I’d sworn I wouldn’t and stay the night in his bed. Because it was apparent the both of us had been alone for too long.

Baby steps. That’s what I’d call this.