Page 89 of Chasing Home

“Did you do all of this yourself?” I ask, finding myself staring at the tub with longing in my chest. I’ve never seen one so big.

He stands and starts cracking open the plastic packaging on the toothbrush. “Yes. Wade had me pay next to nothing for this place, so I put my money into renovating it. The bathroom is the first room I did. What else was I to spend my money on? There wasn’t anyone else in my life yet, so I figured why not dump it all into my house.”

“Well, it’s beautiful.”

When his smile returns, I’m relieved. He shouldn’t have lost it in the first place.

“Thank you. There’s more to it I want to show you.”

He takes the tube of toothpaste from the cup on the counter and covers the bristles of the toothbrush with it before running it under the tap and handing it over.

I shove it into my mouth and start brushing as he grabs his toothbrush and does the same. It feels incredibly domestic to be brushing our teeth together in his bathroom. His eyes glitter as he watches me, our stares holding in a ridiculous way.

By the time we’re done and he’s rinsing both of our toothbrushes off, then sliding them both into the holder, there’s a knock on the front door.

“Do you want to come or stay?”

“I don’t think hiding in the bathroom would look any better than me waddling out like this.”

“You’re perfect regardless,” he says, helping me up off the toilet and out of the room.

My cheeks flush. “Thank you.”

I was too focused on being in pain and needing to get dressed earlier to take a good look at his bedroom, but I don’t make the same mistake as we walk down the hallway and turn into the living room. In the light, when I’m not in a lust haze, the space looks completely different. I’m drawn in a million different directions. From the sleek brown hardwood floors, the neutral-coloured walls, and the black-rimmed, wide windows, the house feels open and inviting.

For a man, the furniture looks incredibly well chosen, all of it matching with colours and patterns. There’s even a rug tucked beneath a rustic wooden coffee table.

“How old are you again?” I mutter.

“I’ve never paid much attention to my age, Rory. You shouldn’t either.”

“That’s easy for you to say when you aren’t the one robbing the cradle.”

He chokes on a laugh, shifting in front of me and tucking a finger beneath my chin. “You haven’t robbed any cradles. I’m older in maturity than age. And I’m not that young. You’re not fuckin’ old either.”

I nod, trying to convince myself of that. I’ve never felt like I’m too old for him or that he’s immature. Maybe that’s why I forget sometimes that we’re not the same age.

There’s another knock on the door, and after stealing a quick kiss, Johnny moves to answer it.

“I was about to search for a spare key! Let me in, I’ve brought some goodies,” Eliza demands, pushing her way past him.

She smiles immediately upon seeing me and rushes to close the space between us. An aluminum container covered with tin foil in her arms presses to my chest as she collects me in a tight hug.

“Come with me, my love. I’ve brought some cream for your thighs.”

Before I can thank her, she’s shoving the silver container toward the man now towering us in the hallway. Wade Steele takes it from his wife and offers me a half-smile.

“Mornin’, Aurora,” he says, voice low but not mean. His eyes drift to his wife once I’ve returned his smile and greeting. “You brought too much food for a man who didn’t show up for work this mornin’.”

She scoffs, offended. “Don’t be such a grizzly. Bring that food to the kitchen before it gets cold. These kids need to eat.”

The front door shuts a beat before the sound of nails clacking on the floor erupts through the hallway. I tense up a second too late.

“Oh Lord, here we go,” Eliza mutters as a fluffy dog comes bounding for me.

It rams into my legs, and I jolt back a step before regaining my balance. A long, slobbery tongue reaches for my fingers, and I offer the thing my palm before petting it once on the top of its soft head.

“Tracker, where the fuck did your manners go?” Johnny asks, following behind it. “Be gentle with her. You aren’t a linebacker.”