Chapter 121: Chapter 121 - Cuddle
For a second, she couldn’t answer.
Until your mom comes home.
Like Claire was still someone who might walk in angry and alive and bothered.
Like Roxie hadn’t spent nights listening for keys that never turned.
Her chest tightened around something she had been carrying alone for days. She could tell him. Just say it once. Claire left. Claire hadn’t come back. The house was hers now, and she had no idea what to do with any of it.
The words sat on her tongue.
Then she looked at Zac.
His cheek was scratched because of her. His family was a problem. Thanksgiving was a problem. They were already a problem together, and dumping her mommy issues into the pile would only make everything heavier.
So she swallowed it.
She nodded once.
"Okay."
Zac got out first.
Roxie sat there for a second, angry at herself for agreeing and angrier that she felt relieved. Then she grabbed her bag and got out too.
The front steps creaked under her shoes.
Zac stood behind her while she unlocked the door.
The house smelled stale when she opened it.
Roxie stepped in and turned on the hallway light fast.
Too fast.
She hated dark rooms now. Ghosts would have been easier. Ghosts had rules. A person hiding in the dark could breathe, wait, and move before she saw them.
Zac stepped in behind her.
His eyes moved around the living room.
The blanket still sat on the couch where she had slept. A mug was in the sink. Claire’s sweater was still draped over the kitchen chair because Roxie hadn’t touched it. The TV remote was on the floor near the coffee table.
Roxie saw his eyes stop on the sweater.
Her face heated.
"She’s probably working," she said.
Zac looked at her.
Roxie looked away first.
"I’m going to change."
"Okay."
"You can sit."
"Okay."
"Don’t touch anything."
"I’ll try to control myself."
She glared at him, then walked to her room before he could see her face break.
Her bedroom was cleaner than the rest of the house because she kept avoiding it. The bed was made badly. The picture book was still hidden under the mattress. Her cheer bag hit the floor near the closet.
She leaned both hands on her dresser and breathed.
Zac was with her.
Zac was sitting in the living room while Claire’s sweater stayed in the kitchen like proof Roxie had no idea what to do with loss when the person wasn’t even dead.
She released a shuddered breath. For once, someone was with her in this empty house.
She changed into sleep shorts and an oversized shirt, then stood in front of the mirror.
Her hair was messy from the ponytail. Her mouth still looked a little swollen. Her cheeks were pink, which annoyed her so much she splashed water on her face in the bathroom and brushed her teeth harder than needed.
When she came out, the living room was empty.
Her pulse jumped.
"Zac?"
"In here."
His voice came from her room.
Roxie stopped in the hallway.
Her room.
Why was he in her room?
She walked back slowly and pushed the door wider.
Zac was on her bed.
Not under the blanket. Just sitting on top of it, back against the wall, one leg bent, the other hanging off the edge. His phone was in his hand, and he looked absurdly large in the small room, his shoulders nearly filling the space between the wall and the edge of the mattress.
Her bed looked comically small with him on it.
Roxie stared.
The last time Zac had been in her room was his birthday. Before that, he had been calming her here after Steve.
Her eyes went wet all at once.
She hated it.
Zac looked up from his phone.
His ears were red.
Roxie blinked.
Then she looked at him harder.
Why the hell was Zachary Prescott blushing in her bedroom?
A room he had already been in twice.
Her eyes dropped to the bed, then back to his face. "Why are you in my bed?"
His ears got redder. "I can move."
He started to sit up.
Roxie stepped in fast. "No."
Zac stopped.
She realized how fast she had said it and wanted to throw herself through the window.
Her face warmed.
"I mean," she said, crossing her arms, "you’re already there. Moving now would be dramatic."
Zac looked at her.
His mouth almost moved.
"Don’t smile," Roxie snapped.
"I wasn’t."
"You were thinking about it." She crossed her arms. "I mean, whatever. I don’t care. It’s just a bed."
His eyes dropped to her sleep shorts, then snapped back to her face so fast she almost laughed.
Almost.
His voice came lower. "Come on."
Roxie’s stomach flipped.
"What?"
"I’ll cuddle with you until you sleep."
The room went too quiet.
Roxie stared at him.
He said it like it was simple.
As if they hadn’t scratched, hit, kissed, shoved, and ruined every normal thing between them.
She laughed once. "Cuddle?"
His jaw tightened. "Yeah."
"You say that like you do it often."
"I don’t."
"Then how do I know you’re qualified?"
"Because I’m warm and tired."
"That’s your résumé?"
"That’s all I have tonight."
Roxie looked at the bed.
Then at him.
Her chest hurt again, but quieter this time.
"You’re not sleeping here."
"I know."
"You’re not doing anything."
"I know."
"You’re not making this weird."
His eyebrows lifted.
Roxie glared. "Weirder."
"I know."
She stood by the door for another second, pretending she was still deciding.
Then she walked to the bed.
Zac shifted back carefully, giving her space. Too much space. She hated that, but she was too tired to fight it. She climbed in and lay down on her side, facing away from him.
The mattress dipped when he settled behind her.
He didn’t touch her at first.
That made her eyes burn.
"Zac."
"Yeah?"
"If you make me ask, I’ll kick you."
He was quiet for half a breath.
Then his arm came around her waist.
Roxie closed her eyes as his chest settled against her back. His body was warm through his hoodie. His breathing brushed the back of her hair. He was too big for the bed, one of his knees bent awkwardly behind hers, but he fit there anyway.
Her throat tightened.
She hated how fast her body relaxed.
Zac’s voice came near her ear, low and rough. "This okay?"
Roxie swallowed.
"No talking."
His arm tightened slightly.
"Okay."
The house was still quiet.
Claire was still gone.
The bills were still waiting.
Thanksgiving was still four days away.
Zac was still trouble.
But his arm was around her waist, and for the first time in days, the silence in the house did not feel like it was trying to swallow her.
Roxie kept her eyes closed.
And for the first time in many nights, she finally slept.
