“I made some,” he says. “Figured I’d fry up the last of the bacon before it goes bad.”
“Bacon takes forever to go bad.”
“Then I’ll fry it up for no reason.”
“Because you want some is reason enough, you know,” I tell him, kicking blankets away and standing. Gideon just shrugs and almost smiles, all gruff and adorable and I remember the way he kissed the inside of my wrist last night, in the near-dark.
“Am I correct in assuming you’d also like some?” he asks.
I reach my arms overhead, stretch, and yawn. It makes a noise like a chupacabra crossed with a demon bat, probably, and Gideon goes faintly pink across his cheekbones, hands stuffed into his pockets.
“Yes, of course,” I say, and hook my thumbs in the waistband of my top layer of pants. “You know my position on—”
I pull the sweatpants down. Gideon turns away and walks into the doorframe.
“Ow, fuck,” he mutters, and before I can ask if he’s okay, he’s back in the kitchen and I’ve got sweatpants around my ankles, staring after him. For half a second, I consider being offended, but that seems dumb, so I settle on being… charmed, I think.
“I’m wearing leggings,” I say as I walk into the kitchen a minute later, the smell of bacon already wafting through the cabin.
He glances at me, then back at the stove.
“I know,” he says, cheeks and ears still pink, and you know what? Fuck it. Fuck letting him be uncertain and awkward about whatever this is, this thing where we make out and then act like we didn’t and then get half-naked and act like we didn’t. Time to do what I want and deal with the consequences.
I walk over and wrap my arms around his waist from behind, hooking my chin over his shoulder. Gideon freezes. I almost apologize and pull away because clearly this isn’t it, clearly he hates this, but then he relaxes into me.
Tentatively, so tentatively I’m not sure it’s happening at first, he puts one hand over mine. My heart flutters. I press my luck and give him a quick kiss behind his ear, and Gideon squirms.
“Smells good,” I say.
“It’s bacon,” he says, and I roll my eyes even though he can’t see me.
“Yes, we established that,” I say. “It’s bacon, which everyone likes and which smells good. I was making conversation, so now you’re supposed to—”
I don’t get to dictate his half of it, because he’s put down the spatula, takes my face in his hand, and turns to kiss me on the lips. It’s a quick kiss at the wrong angle, but my stomach feels like an entire flock of grouse takes off inside it.
“I know how to converse,” he says, head still turned, his face an inch from mine.
“Do you?”
“Go get ready for hiking,” he says, all low and fake-gruff, like he’s not secretly the sweetest person I’ve ever met. “We’re leaving right after breakfast.”
I kiss him on the cheek before heading into the bathroom.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
GIDEON
Before we can actually leave, my phone rings, and because I’m cursed to be reachable at all times, I answer. It’s Reid, and apparently, I’ve missed a lot in the past day.
“Why is the women’s bible study group refusing to meet at mom and dad’s house, again?” I ask, twenty minutes later. I think I’m being very patient, but Reid huffs. He does not, technically, roll his eyes, but it’s close.
“Because, according to Sadie, Mom made Beth miss choir practice to replant her rosebushes,” Reid explains very slowly, as if explaining this to a small child.
“It’s winter.”
“They’re in a greenhouse or something, I don’t know.”
“Okay. Boycotting for missed choir practice. Got it.”
I don’t, but that’s probably fine. I still don’t know why he’s telling me all this third-hand gossip.
“And Beth had to re-plant the rose bushes because Sadie told Mom who really ran them over eight years ago,” he continues. Even though I was in my mid-twenties and not living at home, I remember the incident well, mostly because my parents wanted me to get to the bottom of it. That didn’t go well, either.
“And Sadie was getting back at Beth because Beth found condoms, et cetera, in her bedroom and went off about it,” I finish, because that part of the story I managed to understand the first time. I do not elaborate on the et cetera because I’m still on my first cup of coffee and also, thinking about what else my little sister has in her bedside table may, in fact, cause me to die. “And she was snooping because…”
“She’s a self-righteous nosy twat who thinks it’s her job to police the rest of us?”
I take another sip of coffee because as much as I try—unsuccessfully—not to get involved in my siblings’ disputes, I don’t exactly disagree with Reid’s assessment.
“And now Sadie’s upset,” I finish, still in the just-trying-to-get-the-facts portion of my morning. Andi is still getting dressed, and given the discussion I’m having with Reid, I’m hoping she takes a while longer. She doesn’t need to know how fucked up this situation is or just how deeply I’m still enmeshed in my family’s bullshit.
“Yes,” Reid says, giving me a look through FaceTime. “She says Mom gave her a lecture about sex before marriage, Matt’s wife took her aside for a little girls-only chat that I’m pretty sure involved the phrase get the milk for free, Zach won’t look at her, and Beth is furious that her sweet, obedient little protege is actually no such thing.”
For the record, Sadie is twenty-five, teaches middle school math, and doesn’t live at home. I imagine that in regular families, Beth would have quietly closed the drawer and never mentioned it.
Actually, in most families, I doubt Beth would have opened someone else’s bedside drawer in the first place. Lucky us.
“Oh, and Jacob called her a Jezebel, so she punched him,” Reid finishes. “In the arm. Pretty hard, though.”
Reid, who adores and would do anything for his older sister, is grinning about it.
“Great,” I mutter. “He needed more to bitch about. How’s Sadie… holding up?”
“She’s pretty upset,” Reid says. “Her and her boyfriend who she’s apparently fucking were over here until pretty late last night. He’s nice. Seemed supportive, if out of his depth.”
“What, he didn’t follow the politics of planting rosebushes and choir practice?”
“God help him, he tried,” Reid says. “And Sadie is, like, into this dude, so I think she’s also mad that Beth basically tainted his reputation with the rest of our family before he even met them.”
“We’re talking about taints already?”
Andi pads through the doorway in thick socks, leggings, and my sweater, her fingertips barely sticking out of the sleeves. I wonder if she’s got anything on under the sweater or if it’s nothing but her soft, warm skin. I wonder if I left beard burn last night.
I know, without looking, that I’m stoplight-red.
“It’s nearly nine,” Reid says from the iPad. “If not now, when?”