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“Good. Fine. The tooth healed. We talked about... him. Honestly, he didn’t insult me nearly as much as he should have.”
“Lucky for you, you found me.”Your resident nutjob. Screaming abuse on the sidewalk.
“Elsie.” He’s doing that intense eye-holding thing again. “It’s fine.”
Nothing about this is fine, and it likely won’t be for a long time. But I nod anyway and stand. “Right. I... Sorry, again. Thank you for explaining everything. And for the hot chocolate. I should go home before the snow gets bad.”
He turns to one of the million windows. “Looks bad already.”
It does. The outside’s a whiteout of flurries, and my post-crying-jag exhaustion is swallowing me whole. Maybe I can throw a smoke bomb and disappear into the quantum vacuum. “Before it gets worse.”
He stands, too. “I’ll drive you.”
“What? No. The roads aren’t safe. I’ll just take an Uber.”
He lifts one eyebrow.
“With Cece,” I add, checking my phone. “No need to put you in danger if...” I trail off and go through my texts.
CECE:George assumes you’re staying with Jack???? Does she know something I don’t?????
CECE:Uber surge pricing is insane. George offered to drive me home, but we need to leave now or the snow will strand her car.
CECE:Pls text me to reassure me that he’s not making sausages out of your small intestine.
I squeeze my eyes shut for a second.This is fine. It’s okay.
“You need a new phone,” Jack says quietly, glancing at the cracked screen.
I need a new job.“I’ll take the bus, actually.”
“You think buses are running?”
“Hopefully.” I attempt a smile. He’s been nothing but kind, and he deserves a smiling, less-than-depressive Elsie. “Unless you’d like me to camp out on your couch,” I joke.
“Nah. You can take the bed,” he says without pause. Like he’s been thinking this through.
He can’t have been. “You’re not serious.”
“I’ll even change the sheets.”
“I... Why?”
He shrugs. “It’s been a while.”
“I meant, why do you—”
“Because you’re cold, Elsie.” He steps closer, and I can feel the hot glow of his skin. “Because you had a rough night, and probably a rough month. Because it’s not safe. And because I like having you around.”
I should probably try to process this, but I’m so, so tired. “Do you have a spare room?”
“I do. No bed in it, though, and according to my friend Adam, my air mattress ‘sucks ass.’ ”
“Is that where you keep the skeletons of theorists?”
He smirks. Doesn’t deny it. “I’ll take the couch. That’s where I fall asleep reading theory articles every night, anyway.”
Maybe it’s a jab, but it makes me laugh. I glance at the sectional,which could comfortably house three of him and looks cozier than my childhood bed. I’m really not in the position to refuse this, though I make a last-ditch effort. “I wouldn’t want to put you out.”
