Page 65 of Goose

Ally

Goose’s cleanup job was less that twelve hours away. He was anxious. I had my suspicions as to what he was going to be involved in. I couldn’t say I’d be excited about it, either. I hoped for nothing more than his safe return home.

Staying with Goose filled me with the same sense of belonging I had when I lived with my father during his last stages of being ill. I wanted the experience to continue, but it was coming to a close, instead. I realized when I left that my feeling of belonging would fade. Saddened by that knowledge, I wanted the night to end with a bang for the sake of both of us.

I poked a shrimp with the tines of my fork and swirled it around in the film of garlic butter that covered my plate. Without looking up, I made my declaration. “I wanna fuck.”

“Right now?” he asked, his tone laced with a hint of sarcasm.

“No,” I said flatly. “After we eat would be fine.”

He chuckled. “Where’d that come from?”

“It’s our last night staying here together.” I shrugged. “I want to end it on a memorable note.”

“It’s not our last night here,” he explained. “This is only the beginning.”

I stifled my excitement. “It is?”

“It is.” He laced his fingers together. “As far as I’m concerned, anyway.”

I poked the shrimp in my mouth. “I’ll probably go with whatever you recommend.”

He cocked a playful eyebrow. “Probably?”

I speared another shrimp and then met his gaze. “Yeah. Probably.”

His fingers were still intertwined. His lips had thinned. Not a tremendous amount, but enough that they weren’t as full and luscious as normal.

“Is something bothering you?” I asked.

He jutted out his bottom lip and shook his head. “Nope.”

He was in deep thought about something, and it was troubling him. I shifted my eyes to my food and finished eating. When I looked up, his fork dangled loosely from his fingertips. He was staring blankly at the space behind me.

“Talk to me, Goose,” I said. “This will never work if we don’t keep an active line of communication between us.”

His eyes came into focus. He blinked and then met my gaze. “It’s been nice having you stay here. It’s just. I want this to work out. That’s all. I like having you here.”

I warm feeling filled me. “I like being here. Is that all that’s bothering you?”

He nodded. “I think so.”

“Well,” I said. “You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

He didn’t. He and I had real potential. We each had areas we needed to improve upon. If we were honest with each other—and with ourselves—about everything in our lives, we could go the distance.

That I was sure of.

He reached for his plate and stood.

I did the same. “The shrimp were great. So was the steak.”

Behind me, dishes clattered. Then. A pause. “Thank you.”

I turned around. Dressed in his typical attire of jeans, boots, and a tee shirt, it would stand to reason that he looked the way he always did. He didn’t. At least I saw him differently. He was taller. More attractive. His features were sharper. His lean, muscular structure was more defined.

Something was wrong with me. He’d already explained that we were only beginning. That there was more on the horizon. Yet, I didn’t want him to leave. I couldn’t spend a night without him. I could. I didn’t want to.