by Joy Penny
“She also has a life and I don’t need her here at all hours.” He wanted to say that he didn’t have a spare key anyway, but he knew he did. His mother locked herself out too often not to have one here—or she’d do it on purpose to use it as an excuse to stay longer.
“I have to go now,” said Archer.
“But I don’t know what to do.”
“Coffee. Or maybe tea would be a better idea. Use phone to pay. Ask barista how. Wait for locksmith.”
“Archer—”
“I have to go and let my friends know why I wasn’t showing up. Right? They’ll be worried about me.”
“Why didn’t you go? You never told me.”
“I’m getting off now. I’m going to call a locksmith and then my friends, so you’ll probably just get sent to the voice mail if you call again.” He hung up, even though he heard her call his name once more.
When she called back a few minutes later, he still hadn’t called the locksmith or texted Jayden. He hadn’t finished putting on his brace or taken the other one off. He just let it ring.
Chapter Five
Pembroke still hadn’t responded to Brielle’s DM. Granted, it’d only been a day, but that wasn’t like her. Even when they never saw each other over the summers, she’d always responded by the next morning at the latest.
Brielle wanted so desperately to talk to someone about her big mistake with Archer. She wanted to vent about what a jerk he was, too, but mostly she just wanted someone to tell her it was okay and she’d made a mistake, but it would all be forgotten and it would soon be better.
She couldn’t tell her mom. Oh, no, she would be in so much trouble. Even if she wanted to confront her about not warning her to begin with. But then she wondered if her mom had just been trying to be politically correct. Because it shouldn’t have mattered, right? It didn’t matter. Still, she just would have liked to have known. So she wouldn’t have kept embarrassing herself left and right with him.
Nora wouldn’t understand. And she was hardly outside of her room when home from school anyway.
And Lilac and Gavin had had so much to tell her about their own adventures—actual adventures, not this bs nothing-changed-in-my-life post-graduation existence Brielle was experiencing—that Brielle couldn’t find the right moment to add her own thoughts. Lilac was on cloud nine in Florida, even though she wouldn’t say much about the job itself, and Gavin loved the work, even if his co-workers were apparently almost as much of a drawback of his new life as living in close quarters with two very active roommates. To tell the truth, Brielle had started tuning them out after a while and let them chat back and forth on the thread while she browsed the Internet with a numb mind.
She’d spent the evening Googling how to interact with disabled people and felt stupid doing so. They were just people—Brielle knew that—so what was there to know? How was she supposed to act any differently? Everything she read said she wasn’t basically. By offering to help him with his brace, she had violated that line of not treating him any differently—and plus, she didn’t know him well enough to offer to help with such an intimate gesture.
She’d meant well, but that didn’t matter.
Disheartened, Brielle had considered lying to her mom and asking for the next day off, but she knew that would open up a whole can of worms about responsibility and her job search—cripes, she hadn’t looked for a job since last week, assuring herself she was just excited about graduation and she could afford to take “some” time off—so she cleaned at Mrs. Tanaka’s (tuning the woman out most of the time) and her once-weekly clients’ in the morning, barely stomached a half salad for lunch, and then went to Archer’s, making sure to let herself in with the key. Her fist hesitated over the open door. Normally, she’d knock to announce her presence even after letting herself in, but maybe then he would think she hadn’t let herself in and feel the need to come to the hallway, all bent out of shape and railing at her—
She took a deep breath. She was driving herself crazy. “Scrubbing Cherubs, here to shoot…” She let the motto die on her tongue. She really, really didn’t want him to hear her say that again.
But he wasn’t there. After all her worry, after all those derogatory thoughts about how he never left home (before she knew his situation), and he was gone on her second day.
He hadn’t left too much of a mess, so cleaning went fast and she was gone before he returned.
Wednesday evening Brielle spent applying for jobs. Mostly secretarial jobs. There was one at a museum several states away, but she wasn’t sure she could manage moving across country without first saving up more money. Then again, it wasn’t like she had a great shot anyway. In all her years at college, she hadn’t managed to figure out exactly what it was she wanted to do after, even if she’d ruled out a few things. So she never got the internships or forged the connections she needed to get a job like that.
She applied anyway, knowing she was simply sending the cover letter and resume into a void.
Thursday morning was her first morning back without stopping by Mrs. Tanaka’s and it was refreshingly peaceful not to have to speak to anybody before lunch. She thought about skipping lunch entirely and going for a walk in the nearby park—it’d been a long time since she’d done that—but her growling stomach had other ideas, even if it was still agitated by dread.
When she went to Archer’s and he wasn’t there again, she was partly relieved and partly puzzled. Although it was clearer than ever now how inappropriately she’d behaved—his absence seemed to attest to that—he shouldn’t have to avoid her in his own condo. If he’d called her mom to ask for a new maid, she was certain she’d hear of it, whether or not her mom could easily pull that off at the moment. No, he hadn’t registered a complaint. He’d just taken to leaving before she got there so he wouldn’t have to deal with her.
She was so certain she’d never see him again despite going to his condo practically every day that while cleaning the toilet, she actually screamed when she heard the sound of footsteps and a woman’s voice coming from the living area.
“…Hello? What?” A middle-aged woman wearing navy scrubs poked her head around the open door of the bathroom. “Are you… all right? Are you… Who are you?”
Brielle let go of the toilet brush. “Brielle,” she said, clearing her throat. “I’m the cleaner.”
“…I told you I didn’t want to rush back, that there was someone—”
Archer wheeled into view behind the woman. He stared at Brielle for a moment and his face reddened as he looked down. “Yeah. The cleaning lady is here this time of day.”
“House cleaner,” said the woman, staring down at Archer like he was a child she was chastising.
“Sure, yeah.” Archer wheeled backward into the hallway. “Cleaner.”
The woman shook her head. “You have to forgive him. He’s woken up on the wrong side of the bed for the past ten thousand days.”
Whoa. Brielle’s eyes widened.
The woman chuckled and extended her hand. “I’m Pauline, Archer’s nurse.”
Brielle reached her hand out, noticed the yellow rubber glove, and quickly removed it before taking Pauline’s hand in hers. “Brielle.”
Pauline pulled her head back and glanced over her shoulder, but she didn’t make any effort to lower her voice. “So you’re the reason why Archer has been so insistent he get out lately? That we spend ten more minutes at the grocery store?”
Brielle winced. She heard pounding and cupboards opening from the kitchen down the hall.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Archer’s voice echoed down the hallway.
Pauline laughed again. “Normally, I’d thank you for pushing him to get some fresh air once in a while. But I knew something was off when he insisted he needed another fifteen minutes to choose which flavor ice cream to buy. He hates spending time in the grocery store.”
“You say that,” yelled Archer, “and yet last week when I insisted on just grabbin
g the first pint of ice cream I saw, you complained for days that it was pistachio.”
Pauline shouted down the hallway, “Pistachio isn’t a proper flavor, I’m sorry.”
“Sure, sure. Just vanilla and chocolate. I suppose you see no need for entire aisles of flavor.”
“Not when the classics will do, no.” Pauline turned back to Brielle, grinning. “I’m normally not here this late, but he’s been insistent we go out and who am I to say no?”
Brielle grimaced. “That was probably my fault.”
“Was it your fault or were you simply the cause?” Pauline gave Brielle the onceover and a knowing look, but Brielle didn’t feel like she was in the know at all.
“Enough, Pauline,” called Archer. A cupboard door slammed so loudly, Brielle jumped. “Don’t you have another patient to get to? Isn’t that why you were so insistent we get going?”
“I was insistent we get going because I felt like we were about to grow roots.” She laughed and checked her Apple Watch, swiping at the screen. “But it is indeed about time I got going.” She nodded at Brielle. “Nice to meet you, Brielle.”
“Likewise.” Brielle cleared her throat. Don’t leave me alone with him.
But the nurse had already turned the corner. “Stay cheerful, sunny!” she cried. Brielle heard Archer grunt, followed by the front door opening and closing. The place got eerily quiet. After a moment, Brielle slipped her glove back on and picked up the toilet brush. She finished cleaning and then kept scrubbing a few minutes longer just because she couldn’t stand the idea of going out there yet. She listened for Archer’s slamming around the kitchen to end and once it did, she waited a few minutes more.
Then she decided it was now or she was going to have to lock the door and camp out in his guest bathroom forever. Which would be decidedly more awkward anyway.
She gathered her belongings and headed out into the living area. Archer was in front of his computer this time, a tray table Brielle had never noticed before pulled out to reach about his lap area. He held a digital pen in his hand and it kept making loopy movements on the digital tablet, although Archer’s eyes never left the monitor.
Brielle almost walked right out the door without a word. She wondered if that was what Archer would have preferred. It was what she would have preferred… If the tension between them wouldn’t keep eating at her forever.
But it was also the wrong thing to do. It certainly wasn’t the professional thing to do.
She cleared her throat. “So… Um… I’m finished for the day.”
Archer nodded but didn’t look away from the screen. “Congratulations…?”
Brielle’s face soured. She didn’t know how she’d been in this guy’s presence for maybe less than three hours and already she found him as aggravating as Daniel. It took her months—years, probably, if she was being honest—to start really being annoyed by Daniel. And yet somehow this guy was annoying in a different way—not outright crude, just… Beastly. Yes, that was perfect. He was just like the beast in Beauty and the Beast, all sullen and incapable of saying anything that could possibly be construed for kindness or even civility. At least not as far as she was concerned.
Brielle felt an anger surge inside her she only thought Daniel capable of arousing. She dropped her bucket, letting it hit the hardwood with a clatter. “I wanted to apologize for the other day.”
Archer sighed and put his pen down. He backed up in his chair and it was the first time Brielle got a good look at the drawing on the screen. It looked like he was inking a pencil sketch digitally.
“No, don’t bother,” said Brielle quickly, scrambling to pick up her bucket, which she oughtn’t to have dropped quite so loudly. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry, and I’ll try as hard as I can to be quiet and not disturb you at all from now on, and you don’t have to worry about structuring your day to avoid me—not that you can’t leave whenever you want anyway, but if that was the reason you were gone the past few days—”
“Whoa, whoa.” Archer wheeled closer, taking one hand off its wheel as he neared to make the universal palm-faced-down hand gesture for “calm down.” He paused in front of her and ran his hand through his hair and over his face. Brielle found the movement surprisingly alluring, like he’d casually flicked on the light switch to her libido. “I don’t want you tiptoeing around my house, afraid I might explode at the slightest sound.”
Brielle stared down at him blankly. He had met himself, hadn’t he?
Not that he likely saw himself the way she did.
“I’m sorry,” he said, quietly. He looked at the floor.
“What…?” Brielle spoke more out of confusion than from not having heard him. She’d heard him.
“I’m sorry!” he said, loudly this time. He gripped both wheels tightly, although he didn’t move, and he looked up at Brielle with the most amazing puppy dog eyes. How such a hot guy could have little baby puppy dog eyes, she didn’t know.
“But I—” began Brielle.
“I was rude to you your first day.”
Brielle gripped her bucket handle with both hands and tapped the toe of her sock against the floor. “I shouldn’t have touched you. I’m sorry.”
“You barely did…”
“I wasn’t even thinking; I just thought you might need help…”
They both stared at each other for a moment and then flicked their gazes to the floor at just about the exact same moment.
Archer coughed a little and Brielle looked back at him in time to see his Adam’s apple bob. “That type of thing can be a sensitive subject for people like me.”
Brielle shook her head brusquely. “I totally understand. I didn’t even think—”
“I know you meant well.” Archer did this odd thing where he rolled forward and back a little, just barely the space of a half a foot. “I put my braces on almost every day, though. So… I don’t need help, even if I might struggle.”
Brielle nodded. “Of course. And even if you did, I should wait for you to ask for help before I just give it to you.”
Archer laughed and it made him look like a totally different person. Forget Beast, he was like a hunky Prince Charming. “Which I would have never done because I barely knew you.”
Brielle bit her lip. “Right. Understandable.”
“So… truce?” Archer stopped his wheelchair “pacing” and folded his hands over his lap. He was wearing a dark gray polo and what looked like black workout pants and Brielle suddenly wished she could see how tall he’d be beside her. Like that made any sense or made any difference. (She would date a shorter guy regardless.)
Brielle gently put the bucket down and extended her hand. “No truce necessary. Just… a fresh start.”
Archer’s lips moved just slightly, like he was fighting a huge grin. He took her hand in his. “That sounds even better. I’m Archer,” he said, finally letting that grin show.
“Brielle.” She shook his hand and leaned back slightly against the counter that separated the kitchen from the living area. The eagerness in his pale brown eyes was actually making her knees buckle.
Chapter Six
Archer hadn’t felt this good in weeks. Months even. Maybe years, if he was being honest with himself.
Maybe ever?
Which was astonishingly stupid. There was no reason to be happy. His life hadn’t changed. Not really. He just was no longer not speaking to his cleaning lady. (House cleaner, he corrected himself.)
Like that was a great accomplishment. The fact that he was ever avoiding her to begin with was actually a depressing enough thought to sour his mood considerably.
He’d been mad at his cleaning lady. His cleaning lady, whom he’d known for about an hour at that point.
He really was pathetic. And not because he had a disability—he knew plenty of amazing people like him through the in-person and online support groups his mother used to make him join. No, the feebleness was all him.
His pace slowed considerably as he headed towa
rd the park to meet up with Jayden and the guys. Jayden had gotten an earful from him when he’d called to explain Tuesday’s mix-up about avoiding contacting his mother until after he’d confirmed seeing Archer on a stretcher and absolutely at no other point in time ever, even if he’d been abducted by aliens in the midst of a hook pass.
Brielle hadn’t spoken much when she’d come today. She’d just been… so much happier. She’d radiated happiness vacuuming. Emptying trash. Archer wished he could ever be so happy doing things that people typically considered soul-sucking grunt work, yet here she was… Content.
She hadn’t disturbed him at all, but he’d found himself unable to focus, upcoming deadline or not. He’d purposely had his back to her—although he’d fought against every instinct he had to slink away by at least greeting her and thanking her when she was finished—but he’d kept redrawing the same line over and over. It wasn’t just that it wasn’t good enough, it was that he couldn’t picture the scene properly in his head. Every time he’d tried to focus on the superpowered man with a plan (he didn’t write the comic, he just drew it—no one could blame him for that tag line), he’d kept picturing what she was doing based on the sounds alone. Putting dishes away was easy, only he hadn’t just pictured her putting dishes away, he’d pictured her standing on her tiptoes and stretching to reach the top of his cupboards, that too-tight shirt of hers riding up and flashing a spot of bare skin at her waist line. (Which was ridiculous since he knew only the things he almost never used were stored that high because d’uh, he’d have a tough time reaching them, so she wasn’t putting anything away that high up.) Then there was scrubbing in the bathroom. She was on her hands and knees in his vision. A little grunt and a moan. Whoa. He’d pictured her someplace else entirely. No, he could be absolutely certain she wasn’t lying alone on his bed. Bed comfort testing was not in the service contract. Bed comfort testing was not something one paid for if one wished to be on this side of the jail cell.
He should have talked to her more. If she was going to distract him that much without even trying, he should have just said the hell with it and given into it.
