Page 35 of Lucky Mother Pucker

I warm up another plate for her in the microwave.

“You can help yourself to anything in the fridge,” I say. “Not sure if all of it’s good. A couple of my roommates have a bad habit of leaving leftovers in there for disgustingly long amounts of time. So I guess be careful.”

She cracks a smile.

“But you can eat whatever you want.” I roll out my shoulder, feeling stiff. “I’ll let you settle in.”

I head upstairs to shower and get ready for bed. I throw on a T-shirt and a pair of athletic shorts, then head back downstairs to the kitchen.

Lucy’s standing at the sink, loading the dishwasher.

“You don’t need to do that,” I say, walking over to her.

“The least I could do is clean up after myself.” She sets a plate into the rack.

I notice the sink is completely empty.

“Most of those dirty dishes were my roommates’. You don’t need to clean up after them.”

She shrugs. “I ate a lot of their food. I wanted to do something.” She dries her hands on the kitchen towel and turns to me, the look in her eyes shy.

Seeing her like this, shy and a little nervous, is such a contrast to the tough, sarcastic exterior I’ve seen her put on.

Maybe that’s not really her though. Maybe, because her life has been so hard, she acts that way to protect herself.

“Is it okay if I go to bed now?” she asks. “I’m pretty tired.”

“Yeah, of course. Here, I’ll show you where your bedroom is.”

She follows me up the stairs to my bedroom. “I changed the sheets and pillowcases. Everything’s clean for you.”

She looks around the space. When she turns to me, her gaze is warm.

“This is my room, so make yourself at home. I’ll be sleeping down the hall in my friend Travis’s room.”

I step back into the hallway. “The bathroom’s just over here if you want to take a shower. I left towels on the bed. And a new toothbrush, in case you need it.”

Her gaze catches on something in the hallway. “You have a washer and dryer?”

“Yeah.” I’m confused at first, then I realize she probably wants to wash her clothes. “You can use it if you want.”

Her face lights up. “Really?”

My chest aches at how happy she sounds to do laundry.

She looks down for a second. “Sorry, I just don’t get to do laundry very often. And when I do, it’s at a random laundromat. They’re not always the best.”

“Do you have clothes in your car that need washing? I’ll grab them for you.”

She stares at me for a long moment, her brow raised in surprise. “Yeah, but you don’t need to get them for me…”

I stick out my hand. “Give me your keys.”

She digs them out of her bag, then hands them to me. I head down the stairs and out the door, grab the big garbage bag of clothes from her backseat, and carry it upstairs.

“Do as many loads as you want,” I say, setting the bag in front of the washer.

She looks at me for a moment. “You’re really polite. And thoughtful.”