My answer caught in my throat as I stared at Will.
I'm not sure if sleepovers were allowed. Our friendship was fraught with enough sexual tension already.
Plus, I've been a big enough burden on Will's day. Still, the idea of seeing his house and staying with someone who understood what I was going through, was appealing.
"Please?" Will tilts his head, beseeching my eyes. "Unfortunately, Rory is taking up my guest room. I have a very nice couch, however, that I will sleep on. You can take my bedroom which has its own bathroom."
"Can I lock the door between me and Rory?" I mutter.
"Of course," Will chuckles and drapes his arm around my shoulders to guide me out of the hospital and into his car.
We stop by our trailer first, so I can pick up my pajamas and my toiletries, then, we drive across town to Will's condo.
He lives in a gated community of townhouses, all of them crimson and grey, and all of them cute. Everyone takes such good care of their homes and their yards and their cars that I can't help gawking.
Inside his place is a mixture of midcentury modern furniture and warm accent pieces on bright blonde hardwood floors.
It feels wrong to be inside my teacher's house, but so, so good to be with someone who understands what I'm going through.
"Would you like some tea?" Will's voice is low as I set my things down next to his cerulean leather couch.
"Sure," I answer, staring up at the massive abstract painting over his fireplace.
My ears track Will's footsteps to the kitchen, followed by cupboards opening and closing.
Will's got an impressive book collection running the length of his built-in shelves. I tiptoe over to read the spines. He seems to like contemporary fiction, gritty graphic novels, and sci-fi, some of which I've never read.
"Here," Will returns holding a steaming grey mug and a plate of tea bags. "I didn't know what you'd like, so I brought a selection."
After dunking my chamomile tea bag in the piping-hot water, I grip the sides of the mug in both hands to siphon its delicious warmth. Then, I sink onto Will's comfy couch and take a moment to appreciate how nice it feels to have someone take care of me, for once.
"I'm going to get some blankets," Will smiles and walks off again.
He returns moments later with a stack of fuzzy blankets, along with some sheets and a couple of pillows.
"Here, let me help," I get up and offer my assistance.
"I'll show you where you'll be staying," Will offers when we're done.
Holding my cooling mug, I followed him into a hallway and up a short flight of carpeted stairs to the second floor of his condo. Will's place is huge and decorated like a grown-up's home, with framed paintings everywhere, but no family photos I notice.
"This is my room," Will pushes open the first door at the top of the stairs.
Will's room is obviously the master bedroom with its vaulted ceiling, a large skylight, and a massive en suite bathroom.
I put my backpack down on the downy white comforter on his raised king-sized bed.
"The bathroom is right over there," Will points it out for my benefit.
"Thanks," I nod.
"How are you feeling, Moira?" Will asks me again as he shuts the door to his room (probably so Rory won't hear us).
My pulse jumps into overdrive when Will gets close enough to hug me.
"Scared," my voice cracks as I plop down on Will's comfy bed. "Scared that my mom is going to go to jail. Scared that I failed her."
"You haven't failed anyone," Will sits down next to me, sinking the mattress and pulling me into his steadfast side. "What if I told you there was another option?"
"There is no other option," I turn to tell him. "The judge made it pretty clear what would happen if she violated her probation."
Hot tears crowd my eyelashes and spill out onto my cheeks.
"Remember that benefit a few weeks ago?" Will asks.
"Of course."
Will reaches out and brushes his thumb over my cheek, wiping away my tears in a tender gesture that I sink into.
"That event was to raise money for a program called Second Chances," Will explains. "It gives low-income victims of addiction an opportunity to get sober at one of Serenity Rose's private rehabilitation centers. Long story short, there's a spot for your mom if you want it."
I gasp and pull away to look into Will's boundless eyes.
"I shouldn't have gone behind your back," he rushes to apologize. "But I couldn't bare to see what this was doing to you."
All I can do is cry at Will's kindness.
"Why are you doing this?" I whisper.
"Because your mom doesn't deserve to go to jail," Will sighs. "And because I guess in my own caveman brain, I was hoping I could save you from that pain."
We look at each other for what feels like a long time, both of us trying to work out what the other is thinking.
"I can't ask them to bend the rules for us," I finally say. "Is there an application process?"
"Yes, there is," Will's handsome face breaks into a smile. "And your mom meets all the criteria, and to be honest, I think my mom was hoping for an excuse to see you in person."
"Wait," I blink a few times. "What?"
"My mother runs Serenity Rose," Will explains. "And she'd like to speak to you as soon as possible, so we can get your mom registered for the program."
"Thank you so much," I reply once my unsteady voice allows it. "I'd love to talk to you mother"
"You should try to get some sleep," Will says. "You've had a long day."
"We both have," I whisper.
A pause stretches between us, daring either of us to move or speak.
"I wish you could stay with me," I have to close my eyes to admit the truth.
Will's gentle hand cups my chin and guides my gaze to his.
"Me too, Moira," his whisper is hoarse and his expression is pained. "Me too. But we're just friends, for now."
Will leans over to kiss the crown of my head where his nose lingers for a few heartbeats, which reminds me that I desperately need a shower.
"Goodnight," his deep blue eyes are burning with conviction when he pulls back to look at me.
"Goodnight, Will," I smile weakly.
Will gets up and walks out to shut the door behind him. I'm suddenly cold without his body so close and my tea has chilled to the point of unappealing, so I get up and lock the door to get ready for bed.
Will's spacious bathroom is covered in sleek marble and chrome fixtures. On the tiled window ledge above his sunken tub is a delicate fuchsia orchid along with a few basic toiletries that look very masculine.
Mechanically I change into my ratty pajamas and brush my teeth. It's too late for a shower so I wash the dirt and tears off my blotchy (and puffy!) face instead.
Grimacing at my haggard reflection in the mirror I try and make sense of what Will has done for my mom and me. If we can get her into Serenity Rose's Second Chances program, she could get the help she needs. That is if a judge agrees to let her finish her probation in a private program.
His connections and his kindness have given me something to hope for, and that is the most precious gift of all.
I want to thank him for everything he's done and everything he's doing, I just don't know how.
Utterly exhausted and emotionally drained, I crawled inside Will's ridiculously soft bedlinens to burrow beneath his comforter and shut the rest of the world out. Minutes later, I drifted off to sleep in my high thread-count cloud surrounded by the comforting scent of his refined cologne.