Page 20
Stepping back, she tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Good night, Ollie.”
“Night.”
Peyton pads toward the guest room, bare feet nearly silent against the hardwood floor. I wait until the door clicks shut before letting out a slow breath and drag a hand through my hair. Then I turn off the last light and stand in the dark for a minute. Because damn, I’m exhausted. But I’m glad I don’t have to do everything myself.
Thank God for Peyton.
7
PEYTON
The morning after movie night, I put the finishing touches on my room while Ollie watches Tilly. Little by little, the unfamiliar space starts becoming my own. The room itself isn’t overly decorated, but it’s cozy in a way I didn’t expect from a single man living above an auto body shop. Exposed brick covers one wall and the large window overlooking the street lets in sunlight. I place my monstera in front of it, turning the pot toward the light before setting the cactus next to it.
“You survived the trip better than I did,” I murmur to the plants while admiring them on the windowsill. Back in San Diego, my room had plants everywhere. I left almost all of them behind with my parents because there was no way I could fit them into the Impala without turning the entire car into a greenhouse.
I miss them, both my parents and my plants, more than I expected. Even if I love finally doing things for myself, being this far from home for the first time in my life is harder than I thought it’d be. Most of the time the excitement outweighs everything else. The city feels huge and alive and full of possibilities. Other moments, though, I catch myself reaching for my phone just to hear their familiar voices.
Looking back at the monstera, I notice the soil around the base has dried out. I carry it to the kitchen, set the pot in the sink, and turn on the faucet.
Ollie chooses that moment to walk in, Tilly tucked into the baby carrier. “I can’t believe you brought your own vegetation across the country.”
“First of all, her name is Stevie,” I say, unable to keep the hint of defensiveness from my voice. It's frustrating that I still catch myself bracing for people to laugh at the things I love, ready to defend my choices. Some habits are harder to break than others.
His eyebrows lift. “Like Stevie Nicks?”
“Obviously. I wanted to name her after someone cool and Stevie was the first name to pop into my head.”
A grin tugs at the corner of his mouth. “That is cool. I can respect the name.” Some of the tension leaves my shoulders. Of course that's his reaction.
“My ex thought naming plants was ridiculous,” I say, rolling my eyes, but the old sting is still there.
“Then your ex was wrong.”
I wipe the bottom of the pot with a kitchen towel, surprised by how much his easy validation means to me. “He totally was. Said getting attached to plants was weird. But it happens after keeping them alive for years.”
Nathan’s voice slips into my head. Peyton, why would you buy another when you have enough? They don't even look good. It's embarrassing how attached you are to your plants.
“I wouldn't know.” Ollie shifts Tilly a little higher in the carrier. “Keeping myself and Tilly alive is enough right now.”
“You’re doing good, don’t you worry.”
Tilly makes a sleepy sound against his chest and Ollie instinctively rests his large palm against her back without even looking down. “How’s your room coming along?” he asks.
“Good. It finally feels less like I’m squatting in a stranger’s apartment.”
“You were never squatting.”
It's amazing how a few simple words can make me feel less like a burden. I hadn't realized how tightly I'd been holding on to the fear of overstaying my welcome, even if Ollie was the one who needed help.
I glance down at the kitchen towel in my hands, folding it in half. “It’s just weird being away from home without knowing when I’ll go back.”
“Are you missing California?”
“Parts of it. I miss my parents. My brother and his family. My plants.” He snorts softly and I glare at him. “I’m serious.”
“I was only surprised your plants made the top three,” Ollie says.
A giggle slips out of me before I can stop it. It still catches me off guard how easy being around him already is. Not because we know each other particularly well, but because I don't feel like I have to monitor every word before it leaves my mouth. It's been a long time since talking to someone new felt uncomplicated. Sure, we met once last year, but that was different. We’re still getting to know each other.
