“I won’t argue with that,” I tease.
“Plus, if I change my mind, I can steal it back after I take it off you later.” He winks, and I shove him away.
“You’re lucky you’re cute. I don’t know if I’d put up with you otherwise.”
“You would. My charm has nothing to do with me being cute. I just have a way with words.”
“Raunchy ones, sure. I don’t know if your vocabulary extends past that.”
“You love it, though.” I feel my cheeks get hot, his eyes studying my face for a moment before going back to scrolling on his phone. “Told you.”
“Shut up.”
He laughs and then puts his phone down on the nightstand, sitting up and turning toward me, “Can I ask you something?”
“I thought I was gonna get out of this conversation.” I groan.
I slowly watch the realization hit his eyes about what conversation I’m talking about. His eyes light up.
“Actually, I wasn’t going to ask about your dislike for commitment; thanks for reminding me, though.”
“What do you wanna know?”
“Has a guy ever spent the night?”
“Nope.”
“Because you don’t do commitments?”
“That, among some other reasons.”
“Are they the same reasons I’m never here past six pm?”
“Maybe.”
“Avalon.”
“Zeke.”
“I told you about my mom, Avalon,” he begins. “Which was hard. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. Whatever you’re worried about telling me, I won’t care. I won’t look at you differently because of it. You haven’t done that since finding out about my mom.”
“My mom’s a drug addict,” the words fly out of my mouth, and it’s also like a weight is lifted off my shoulders. “And an alcoholic.”
“Oh.” His eyes soften.
“I honestly don’t remember my life before she was one. She’s sober right now, but she’s been sober before. I don’t really have any hope of it lasting, which sucks because I want it to last. I guess you can say none of the Stewart women know how to commit to anything.”
“Is that why you make sure I’m here when she’s not? So, I don’t see her?”
“I don’t know.” I bite my lip. “I guess I’m just used to it. Before this, I’d hook up with guys and make sure they were out beforetwo am because that’s when she’d come home all fucked up, and I didn’t want anyone to see her like that. And now, I guess I don’t know how to not do that? Does that make sense? I don’t want her to get the wrong idea about this. And there’s a part of me that still feels like she’ll come through the door high out of her mind. I don’t want you to see that.”
“You know I wouldn’t care, right? We all have shit we’re dealing with. I’d never judge you for her actions.”
“I know.” I take a breath. “It’s just embarrassing.”
“I get that. And what about your dad?”
“I don’t really know him.” I look away. “My mom was a firefighter. A great one, actually. She was in line to become Captain at her firehouse, and then, one night, they got called to this apartment fire. She was on the fourth floor saving a kid, and the floor gave out from under her. She was able to push the kid out of the way, and they walked away with some scrapes and bruises. But my mom fell four floors and got pinned down by some concrete. They were able to revive her at the hospital, but the damage to her leg was too much, and they had to amputate it.”