because I don’t actually know the way back to the house from here doesn’t mean I’m not stomping off in spirit.”
I sighed. “Duly noted.”
I took the lead and set out for home.
True to my predictions though, Gus was not telling the truth about his shoulder. Almost all his other injuries had cleared up by now. The bruises were all but gone, and only a couple of cuts still left traces of red across his skin. But his shoulder clearly pained him.
I could tell, because I was making a point of spending time around him now. Not because I was pursuing anything, mind you. I just figured that if I wanted him to believe that he was welcome at Edgecliffe, I might have to spend some time in his presence.
It was hard, though. Not because Gus was unpleasant to be around. Actually, once he accepted that my stance on not sleeping together again was firm, and stopped propositioning me, he was, well, wonderful.
He was funny, and smart, and even when he wasn’t talking—very rare occasions, but they did happen, especially in the library at night, as he flipped through some old book, curled up in a chair in front of the fire—it just felt good to be around him.
What made it hard was that I didn’t know what to do with that.
I’d been on my own for a long time—purposefully. Whenever my mom or Hadley had come to visit, after I’d moved here, I’d get snappish, and start to feel claustrophobic, even in a house the size of this one. But with Gus, it was different.
I liked the way his foot wagged up and down as he slouched in the armchair while he read. I liked the way he left sweatshirts strewn around the house, forever putting them on and taking them off again when he spent too much time in front of a sunny window. I even liked the way he sang along to Christmas carols as he cooked, and I hate Christmas carols.
The calendar crept forward steadily. Normally, I hated this time of year, getting closer and closer to the anniversary of Aggie’s death. I kept expecting to feel worse. And yet, while I didn’t feel great, the grief and regret wasn’t as all-encompassing as it had once been.
I hurt, but I also looked forward to dinners with Gus as he bubbled about his progress in the library. I ached, but watching him read, green eyes flashing across the page, his finger curling delicately as he scratched Frog behind the ears, made it more bearable.
The house felt more like home with him in it. My life felt more like life with him in it. And as much as I knew I shouldn’t, I wanted more.
Still, I could tell from all my stolen glances, looking at Gus whenever he was looking the other way, that he was in pain. I could see it in the way he held himself gently at dinner, the way he lowered himself into chairs with such care, even in the way he slept at night.
Not that I was being creepy or anything. I just wanted to make sure that he was okay, when I peered into his room to find him sleeping on his side, his injured shoulder wrapped around an extra pillow.
I didn’t stand there watching him sleep though, thinking about how shitty I felt for shutting things down. Didn’t stare at him and wonder how I’d go back to life without him, once he was gone. Definitely didn’t watch his chest rise and fall and feel my heart beat in time with his breath.
Or, okay, maybe I did. But was it so wrong to want to be on hand in case he had another nightmare, or remembered something else? Was it so wrong to be enraptured by the way his lips parted ever so slightly as he dreamt?
On Saturday morning, I took a break from recording to scrounge up some food in the kitchen. Gus had put together a grocery list the day before, and it must have just been delivered, because he was unpacking bags on the large wooden table. He grabbed a carton of eggs off the top of one bag with his bad arm and hissed.
“Okay, we’re calling a doctor.”
Gus whirled around when he heard me, his eyes narrowing. “I don’t want to go to a doctor. I told you.”
“Then you won’t go to one. We’ll find someone who can do a house call.”