Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71303 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71303 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
I didn’t want to be part of the call, but Foster said it would be weird if he didn’t at least introduce me, since I was living with him and all, even if only temporarily.
“Perfect timing to get a roommate,” Chase replied. You could see the resemblance between the siblings, but Foster was way more handsome, in my opinion.
“How do you feel about taking care of Oscar?” Mr. Middleton asked. It almost felt like I was being interviewed for the job, but I knew he was only being careful and curious, given that I’d just moved in and they were meeting me for the first time.
“Oh, um, well…I love Oscar, so it’s a no-brainer for me.”
“And Oscar loves him. In fact, Oscar is how we met one morning on our usual walk and coffee run.”
I winced and looked away. Was he going to tell his family that he’d befriended a man experiencing homelessness, then asked him to live with him?
“Oscar was pulling on his leash to get closer to Lachlan and then loved on him. Oscar gave him no choice.”
I laughed because it was sort of true. That dog wasn’t going to give up until I greeted him properly. And the rest, as they say, was history.
Mrs. Middleton clapped her hands excitedly. “If that isn’t a meet-cute, I don’t know what is.”
“Mom,” Foster warned. “It isn’t like that.”
I wasn’t sure whose cheeks were redder, mine or his.
“I’m just being silly,” she replied. “I’m glad you have a new friend. Were you looking for a place to live, Lachlan?”
“Maybe temporarily? I, uh, sort of fell on hard times,” I said, but before I could explain further, Foster jumped in.
“He needed a place to stay after a bad breakup, and the timing worked out for both of us.”
Was he embarrassed of me, or just trying to prevent them from prying further?
As they caught up on work and family life, I felt myself wishing I had what they did. Foster had complained about how overinvolved his parents were, and it’d definitely been that way with my mom, but I’d trade places with him in a heartbeat.
Listening more closely, it dawned on me that Foster was only giving them the highlights of his life, and I was sure he had his reasons. But I also felt the tension radiating off him. He’d slept a lot that weekend, and when I asked if he was okay, he’d confessed he was battling a depressive episode.
He’d had a psych appointment after work last week and took a telehealth call with a therapist in his room, but I certainly didn’t pry. Still, it was hard not to want to help him in some way. He’d done plenty for me. So I just kept things clean and cooked us meals, and it felt like I was doing my part.
Foster admitted that his episodes normally lasted two to three months, with more down days than up, and I felt guilty that I was so wrapped up in my own shit, I might not have noticed him being extra tired and quiet. It’d been an effort for him to make himself presentable for the family call—his hair was still a wreck—so maybe that was the reason he didn’t offer them many details. Or maybe it was because I was there and he wasn’t exactly comfortable. Another reason I didn’t need to be present.
As soon as the call ended, Foster breathed out in relief. “That wasn’t too bad, was it?”
“No.” I nudged my thigh against his. “Why did you only give them the highlights?”
“What do you mean?”
“About me…about you…”
“I…” He bit his lip. “They would only worry.”
“But you said they know about your depression.”
“They do. I was first diagnosed when I was a teen.”
I drew a pattern on his knee, trying to tread carefully. “Then they’d understand, right?”
“You don’t know my mom. She’d worry, and text even more, which in turn would only make me feel guilty and more depressed.” He frowned. “I just need to work through it on my own. I’m sorry you have to see me this way.”
“Hey, don’t do that. It’s part of you.” I kissed his cheek. The affection between us had grown since the tent incident, and I’d admit I enjoyed it a little too much. “Just like experiencing homelessness is part of me.”
“Was part of you.”
“Huh?”
“You used present tense.” He clenched his jaw. “You’re not houseless anymore, not if I can help it.”
“I can’t think like that, or…not yet,” I huffed out. “That’s like you saying you’re over your depression because you had one happy morning.”
“That’s not the same. I didn’t choose to have—” He stopped abruptly and stared at me, the wheels spinning in his head. “That was dumb of me. You obviously didn’t choose to experience homelessness, and…I think I understand what you mean now. It’s your mindset, your survival mode. Same for me, but in a different way.”