Inseparable by Chris Scully Read Free Book Online

having been awake most of the night. Later, I prop myself up on the
    couch in the living room and watch Joe haul up boxes of Christmas decorations from our storage unit
    in the basement. “Christmas is tomorrow,” I observe. “Isn’t it kind of late to be decorating?”
    Joe drops the cardboard box he’s carrying and tucks his wayward curls behind his ears. “I didn’t
    feel like celebrating before.”
    “But now you do?”
    He shrugs, pulling out a straggly artificial Christmas tree in three pieces and snapping them
    together. It’s small—only four feet or so—and the saddest tree I’ve ever seen. I tell him so.
    “It looks better once it’s all decorated. Really,” he adds at my skeptical expression.
    A twisted bundle of multicolored lights is tossed in my lap. “Hey, I’m injured. You can’t expect
    an injured man to put up a Christmas tree.”
    “No, but I can expect him to untangle lights. Especially when he’s the one who put them away
    like this last year.”
    “I liked you better when you were offering to wash my back.”
    Joe throws back his head and laughs. I wish it could always be like this with us.
    I’M WIRED the entire day. If it didn’t hurt so much, I’d be pacing the floor, but just the thought of
    moving has me cringing, so I stay on the couch napping and watching Joe decorate. He sings along
    off-key to the Christmas carols playing softly on the stereo, and it’s oddly comforting. Every time I
    look at him, my heart speeds up. Say something, now. Tell him . The words are on the tip of my
    tongue, but at the last moment I chicken out and swallow them.
    When the sky outside starts to darken, Joe heats up leftover pasta and we eat in the living room
    in front of our scrawny tree. Joe lied. It doesn’t look any better with silver tinsel and colorful lights.
    “Next year let’s get a real tree,” I blurt out.
    Joe’s smile is radiant. The man really is gorgeous. “Hey, how’s your head?” he asks suddenly.
    “Feel like watching a little TV?”
    “I thought that wasn’t allowed.”
    “For the first few days, but you seem like you’re doing better.”
    “I’m game. What did you have in mind?”
    He pulls a DVD off the shelf and sheepishly holds it up. Black Christmas —the original, not the
    crappy remake. “I know it’s not exactly holiday fare, but it’s kind of our Christmas Eve tradition.”
    I almost say “I know” but catch myself just in time. I’m not ready to tell Joe I remember just yet.
    I’m not ready for reality to intrude. “Will you hold me if I get scared?” I tease. Joe grins in delight
    and gets everything ready. I pull up my legs to make room, and he settles down on the opposite end of
    the couch, just like a dozen times before.
    It’s a good movie as far as cheesy seventies horror flicks go, but by the time Olivia Hussey
    begins to suspect her boyfriend is the killer, I’ve lost all interest. I can’t stop looking at Joe out of the
    corner of my eye. The sleeves of his waffle-knit shirt are pushed up to his elbows, showing off thick,
    hairy forearms that are sexy as hell. He catches my shiver. “Cold?” he asks, tucking the blanket tighter
    around my legs without even waiting for a response.
    My heart is pounding so loudly I can’t believe Joe doesn’t hear it. I’ve never been so terrified in
    my life, but there’s nothing like nearly dying to put everything in perspective. If there was ever a time
    to take a risk, it’s now. “Joe, how did the accident happen?” I ask in a breathless rush.
    He flicks a startled look at me and then quickly turns back to the TV screen. “What do you mean?
    You ran in front of the car.”
    “But where was I going? Do you know?”
    Joe sighs, still staring straight ahead. “We had a fight. You stormed out.”
    “What did we fight about?”
    “It’s not important anymore. I was being an idiot.”
    I wonder what that means. Has he changed his mind about moving out, or does he just feel bad
    that I