“Isn’t this one of your mixing bowls?”
“Maybe.” Garrick held out a hand as he rolled up behind Rain. “Let me finish your hair while you eat?”
“Sure.” Rain gave him the comb. They’d done this before, Garrick combing out his curls after a shower, but there was something different about this time, a greater intimacy somehow. Adding to that effect, Garrick was infinitely gentle as he worked on Rain’s hair, working in small sections. His fingers felt so good, even incidental contact on Rain’s neck and scalp, that Rain kept leaning into the contact, like Cookie seeking more pats. Damn. He’d missed this so much.
“Poor hair. That helmet really did a number on you.” Garrick deftly braided the detangled hair, something Rain didn’t always have patience for on his own but Garrick seemed to enjoy doing for him.
“That and the same bun days on end.” Rain laughed because that was better than letting the tenderness of the moment swamp him. “The soup is really good. Thanks for making it.”
“There are chocolate muffins from your grandma too. She’s worried about you, even if she won’t admit it aloud.”
“You left me some?” He raised an eyebrow, hoping to get another chuckle out of Garrick because being back here, bantering like this was as soothing as the soup and hair care.
“Come on. Cut me a break. I’m not that much of a chocoholic.” Finished with Rain’s hair, Garrick had moved to his side, big glass of ice water in front of him.
“Yeah, you totally are. But you’re cute about it,” Rain teased between more sips of soup.
“And I share.” Garrick rolled over to the counter and returned with two muffins, plunking one down next to Rain.
“That you do. You’re generous. It’s one of the things I lo—like most about you.”
“You still like me?” Garrick’s voice was serious, and that was all it took for the banter to evaporate and them to be right back in the awkward place, where there was both so much unsaid and too much that had been already said, all the baggage of their previous argument showing up like an unwanted guest.
“Yeah,” he admitted, voice as grave as Garrick’s, no more kidding around. “Not like I could hate you, not even if I tried.”
“That makes one of us. Maybe I hate me enough for both of us. I’ve been so damn mad at myself, but I simply couldn’t see an outcome where hating myself for letting you go didn’t happen.”
“And now?” Rain had been so sure that he didn’t have any hope left in him, but there it was, that bubbly sensation in his chest and tremor in his hands.
“Now, I’m still not sure. But I meant what I said at fire camp. I want to listen to you. Really listen.” Reaching out, he rubbed Rain’s shoulder, a contact as welcome as his words. “And I don’t have all the answers, not by a long shot, but I do know that I want to work this out. I missed you so damn much.”
“Me too. I missed you and I hated myself for missing you that much.”
“I’m sorry.” Garrick’s hand was as heavy as the emotion in his eyes, but Rain wasn’t running from either the contact or the intense feels. “I never wanted to hurt you.”
“Yeah, you kind of did,” Rain had to point out. “You thought it was the right thing to do and that you didn’t have a choice, but I told you it hurt, asked you to not, and you still pushed me away. Which made it hurt more, not less.”
“I fucked up. And I wish I had better words than simply another ‘I’m sorry.’ But I am sorry. Truly.”
“I believe you.” Rain couldn’t keep a yawn in any longer, belly full of warm soup and soul heavy with both this conversation and days’ worth of exhaustion catching up with him. “I don’t know where we go from here, but I believe you.”
“Do we need to have a map tonight?” Garrick laid his hand on top of Rain’s on the table. “We’re both wrung out. Can it be enough to say that we both want to work this out—whatever that takes—and that we’ll figure it out, together?”
Rain had to think for a moment because the urge to get all the answers was almost as strong as the need for sleep. But if they were going to have to talk, really talk, emotional heavy lifting, then he wanted to curl up in Garrick’s arms one more time first. If that made him selfish, so be it.
“Can I sleep here?”
“You have to ask?” Squeezing Rain’s hand one more time, he pointed toward the bedroom. “To bed. We’ll talk in the morning, promise. We’re both off, so we can go out with Cookie—”
“Cookie. Darn it. Forgot all about her. Do I need to find clothes for a fast walk?”