I polished off my beer and went for another one, an obvious attempt at escape. Was she trying to get me to open up about yesterday? Even if she wasn’t, the mention of my sister was still picking at a fresh wound.
I was always the one having to give answers, yet Baker managed to stay on neutral ground. She hadn’t told me a damn thing about her past. Maybe I didn’t have a right to know, but I wanted to.
And that was the problem. No matter how I promised myself I wouldn’t get close to another woman, I couldn’t seem to stop trying. Inviting—no, wanting—her to be part of the new building was all on me. There was this constant push and pull I kept getting dragged into. I couldn’t help it.
It was as if my attraction to her was beyond physical, and that wasn't wise. It was so confusing. I wanted her with me, and I hadn't been lying when I said I wanted to continue the living arrangements once the apartment above the workshop was ready. But after the last two days with Marlow and then my mother, I didn't have the capacity to work through this. And that ticked me off.
When I dropped onto the sofa, I slouched in the corner and nursed my drink. We were slowly pushing past every boundary. If she got to know my problems, I wanted to know some of hers.
“What were you doing in that shelter?”
The fork fell from Baker’s fingers and clattered to the floor. She hurried to her feet and knocked her glass over, a river of wine snaking to the edge of the table.
Baker staggered around the sofa, gripping the arm as she passed. “None of your business,” she whispered.
A door slammed. I immediately regretted hurting her. But had I asked the question for her sake? Or to push her away because she was too close?
Chapter Sixteen
Baker
I collapsed on my bed and held a pillow to my chest.
The sheets were cold, deepening the chill setting in my bones.
I’d overreacted. The question was inevitable. One I didn’t want to answer. One I couldn’t bear to answer.
If I told him the truth, he’d want nothing to do with me. And that thought scared me.
I was getting used to having him in my life. After speaking with Hayden, and then daydreaming about a future with my makeup line, I’d felt so excited about the building. It showed he was a good man. Willing to include me in his plans.
But the one question I didn’t want to answer had come far sooner than I’d hoped. My overwhelming desire to avoid answering had little to do with the shame for what had landed me in the shelter and everything to do with how Holt would react.
Even though he thought he wanted the answer to that question about my presence at the shelter, he didn’t. No one did.
* * *
Thump. Thump. Thump.
I sat up straight in bed, drenched in sweat. Quiet surrounded me, though I could still hear the music in my nightmare. I’d been trying to turn it down when I woke up.
I took a few deep breaths to steady the erratic drum of my heart. In the darkness, I reached out. No Holt.
And then I remembered.
I’d waited on him while curled in a ball. He never came. I was too chicken to go to him, my bravery officially spent.
In only a few days, I’d grown used to sleeping with him. It was more than that. I’d gotten accustomed to his presence. How acutely I felt his absence frightened me. Without him, I was having the nightmares again.
A car horn blew on the street below, the city coming to life with the start of a new day. I didn’t have to get up so early, but knew I wouldn’t find sleep again.
I pushed the covers back and stumbled to the bathroom. As the water warmed, I undressed. Steam fogged the mirror and a heart formed on the glass.
He’d drawn it. The shape hadn’t been there yesterday, and it twisted me up. What did it even mean? Holt was a mechanic. He’d been a park ranger. A man’s man. In my wildest dreams, I’d never imagined him drawing hearts on the mirror.
I backed into the shower and shut out the gesture I didn’t know what to make of. Wasn’t I only a bit of fun for him? Someone convenient to occupy his time?
I’d convinced myself that was all he was capable of, yet he continued to prove that wasn’t the truth at all.
I won’t stop. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not—
I’d cut off the end of that sentence because I couldn’t bear to hear how Holt would have finished it. Didn’t want to listen to promises made in the heat of passion that weren’t meant to be.
But my heart ate up everything he said and did. That was a problem. My heart was what always got me into trouble. It blinded me to reason. I couldn’t afford to let that happen again.
I dropped my head back, letting the spray hit my face. Even showering without him felt wrong.
Needy.
That was all I’d ever been. A needy little girl. A needy teenager. And now, a needy woman. I hated myself for it.
I was frustrated with my own lies. I’d believed I was strong enough to stand on my own two feet.
But it wasn’t the truth.
With every passing day, I’d grown more dependent on Holt.
Was I going to stick it out here? Prove to myself that I could handle being out in the real world? Or was I better off going back to the shelter? Where I was protected, not only from the madness out here, but from myself and my poor judgment.
Mrs. Quinn would be disappointed if I came back. I’d be disappointed in me too. Sometimes it was better to admit not being ready than to dig a deeper hole.
Would Holt care if I moved out?
I slapped myself in the forehead. “Get a grip, Baker. Get. A. Grip.”
A decision didn’t have to be made right now. I’d think it over. Decide what was best for me without rushing into another bad choice.
Except when I’d agreed to live with Holt, it was an automatic yes. My soul knew what it wanted without having to mull anything over. But I’d been wrong before. No doubt I would be again.
* * *
The apartment was quiet when I finally emerged from my room. Holt’s door was closed, but I felt his absence.
Our dinner from the night before remained on the coffee table. The wine glass still lay on its side, though the spilled liquid appeared to have been wiped up.
Quickly, I discarded the food and loaded the dishwasher. I grabbed an apple and a banana, dropping them into a brown paper bag with the rest of my lunch.
As I picked up my keys off the counter, I found a note folded underneath them. With trembling hands, I opened it.
Gone to my father’s for a few days. I think we both need the space.
Coward.
I crumpled it in my hands and tossed it back on the counter. Space? I didn’t need space. I wanted him to talk to me. Or at the very least, not run when things got tough.
You mean, kinda like you “talked” to him?
I scowled as that little voice in my head pointed out how I’d been just as guilty of shutting down as he had.
Space.
I hated the word.
Screw Holt Dixon and his space.
Chapter Seventeen
Holt
“You have time for lunch?”
A pair of feet that belonged to a familiar voice came into view.
“No,” I said without rolling out from underneath the Chevy Suburban I was working on.
A foot stretched out and kicked me in the arm. “The answer is yes.”
“If that were the case, you wouldn’t have needed to ask.”
“Your big brother comes to buy you a nice meal and you can’t even tell him no to his face? I’m wounded.”
Thank goodness I was hidden so he couldn’t see me almost smile despite my annoyance. He knew how to push my buttons and get what he wanted all at once.
I rolled until my head was out from under the car. “No.”
He scowled, his lips twisting into his masculine version of a pout. “No? Damn. I came all this way.”
“All ten blocks?”
“The
se shoes aren’t the most comfortable pair I’ve got.” He wiggled his foot, the tassel on his oxfords swaying.
“Think you could make it to a restaurant?”
He grinned. “Of course. We’ll take a cab.”
I rolled completely out from under the Suburban. “I’m not exactly dressed for a nice meal.”
I gestured down at my coveralls when I stood.
“Sure you are.”
“I don’t want to go to your woman’s food truck.” I folded my arms over my chest.
His expression darkened. “Why not?” He was insulted on her behalf.
“It’s not the food. Or Trish.”
Light dawned in his eyes. “Baker.”
I’d tried and failed miserably not to think about her.
I’d needed to get away, yet it was already too far. Last night, I’d pushed her to avoid talking about myself. That was the coward’s way, but I wasn’t ready to face her yet.
And I’d reacted the exact same way with the Marlow situation. I didn’t know how to break the pattern and I hated that. When would I stop it?
“Something happen between you two?” Andrew’s brow furrowed as he slid his hands into his pockets.
“Isn’t that why you’re here? I’m sure Dad told you I’m crashing with him for a few days.”
“Actually, he didn’t.”
“Well, now you know,” I said bitterly. “Let’s do this. I need to be back in less than an hour.”
* * *
“Holt.” Trish’s smile brightened when she saw me in her window. “What a pleasant surprise.”
“What about me?”
Her smile turned soft. “You’re a great surprise too.”
I was happy and jealous of my brother in one chaotic swirl. I tried to force the envy away, but it clung tightly with its talons.
“What’s good at this place?” I scratched my temple, and she laughed.
“If you came by more often, you’d know.”
“I’ve been sampling your dishes. The chicken roll things are my favorite. Oh, and those potatoes with the cheese and I don’t know what else. But they’re good.”
Her grin widened. “I wondered what Baker was doing with all that food she ordered.”
“Spoiling me.” The words were out before I could take them back. I’d had no lunch packed today. No smile or kiss before work. Hell, no messy hair and sleepy eyes to wake up to.
Andrew cleared his throat. “I’ll have my usual.”
Trish passed two large glasses of lemonade to us.
“And I’ll have the same.” I pasted on a pleasant expression, though my day was getting worse by the moment.
What was I thinking when I told her we needed space? That was the last thing I wanted. Sleeping in separate rooms last night was too much, but I’d thought we needed the distance before we pushed each other past the point where we hurt each other too badly to salvage any kind of relationship, even friendship.
“Go grab that bench. I’ll wait for the food.” Andrew pointed with his chin toward the empty seat.
I parked it and slouched on the bench, my legs spread wide. I should have stood my ground, told my brother today wasn’t a good day for this. If I’d kept working, my mind couldn’t totally focus on Easy. Now, I couldn’t get her out of it.
“Here you go.” My brother held out a container with my lunch. “What happened?” His ass had barely hit the seat before he started in.
“Nothing.” I stabbed my fork into a piece of chicken.
He snorted. “Have it your way.” He sucked down a swallow of lemonade. “I tried to call Marlow. Several times. She won’t answer.”
“Don’t want to talk about that either.” I was quickly losing my appetite.
“The only one she’ll see is Dad, but he said yes or no answers is about all he can get out of her.”
“Maybe she should think about the consequences before she opens her mouth.”
“It’s not true,” he said quietly. “None of us blame you for her leaving.”
“Obviously your sister does.” I snorted, resentful and still hurt.
“You know how she is. Barely make a scratch on her and she goes for the jugular.”
I held out my hands. “Well, I’m bleeding out over here.” Maybe I shouldn’t have admitted that, but why hide?
“She was in the wrong.”
“But I am too, right?” I asked, unable to keep the bitterness out of my voice.
He let out a long sigh. “It wasn’t the time to bring up Jack. Honestly, there’s never a good time. And you’re right. None of us are doing her any favors by pretending he didn’t exist.”
My shoulders sagged. “I can’t stand to see Marlow hurting. I know—” I hesitated, shoving the words I was about to say back in. “I don’t expect her to get over his death. Ever. I just don’t want her . . .”
“To feel like you do,” he finished for me. “What happened wasn’t your fault.”
I bristled. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“How long are you gonna punish yourself? Cameron made a decision that cost him his life.”
“And I made the one that didn’t save it.”
I set my food carton on the bench between us and stood. “I appreciate where you’re coming from. I know you came to help me find some sort of reconciliation, but I’m not there yet. This isn't me avoiding a conversation, but rather asking you to be patient. Please.”
He looked up, and I could tell he wanted to say something, but he wisely dipped his head. “Okay.”
“Tell Trish I appreciate lunch.” I didn’t believe I could stop punishing myself. It wasn't that easy. But at least I could reach out to someone I did want in my life.
* * *
I plowed both my hands through my hair as I paced in front of the skyscraper. What was I doing here? I had to get back to work, but I couldn’t stay away.
Screw it.
I pushed through the revolving doors and prayed it wasn’t a mistake.
Chapter Eighteen
Baker
“The contracts came in this morning. Schedule the shoot for a month from now.”
I scribbled the reminder on the bottom of my notes from the meeting we’d just finished.
“Got it. Anything else?”
“Let’s meet again Thursday afternoon to plan locations for the April and May editions. Hayden wants you in from start to finish.” Macy, our creative director, pulled the conference room door closed as we exited.
“Perfect. I’ll see you Thursday.”
She jetted down the corridor toward her department. I trudged to the lobby. It was nearly two and I hadn’t had lunch yet. We’d been going nonstop today, which was a blessing. My mind had only minimally drifted—
“Holt?”
His hands were braced against the reception desk. Those dark locks were a wreck. His coveralls were coated in stains. And the sight of him was such a relief I almost ran to him.
He turned, his eyes blinking a few times in disbelief before he closed the distance between us.
“Easy.”
He stopped a fraction of an inch before he reached me, careful not to touch.
“I thought you needed—”
“I should have called first.” He glanced at his dirty clothes. “Shit. I don’t want to embarrass you.”
I touched his cheek. “I’m glad you’re here. And for the record, I don’t want your damn space.”
“I don’t want it, either.” He placed his hand on top of mine. “Do you have a minute? Is there somewhere we could go?”
I grabbed his hand and led him out of the elevator lobby to the stairwell. “Nobody uses these,” I said with a tease.
The second the door clicked behind us, I launched myself at him. He caught me, folding me in his arms. Holt buried his nose in my hair and held me like he’d never have the chance to again.
This was the first peace I’d had since I stomped away from him last night. He smelled like motor oil
and Holt. The lethal combination I couldn’t resist.
“Damn it.” He tried to disentangle from me, but I held fast. “I’m getting you all dirty.”
“I don’t care.”
“You look so pretty today. I like this dress.”
“I wore it for you,” I confessed. When I’d slipped on the Kelly green A-line, I’d hoped he’d see it and forget how I shut down on him. “But you weren’t there this morning.”
“I’m sorry.” He rested his forehead against mine. “There are things I’m not ready to talk about. And I shouldn’t have pushed you, either.”
“I don’t like you hurting over your sister. I only want to help.”
“I know.” He nuzzled my nose. “My mother was waiting for me when I got to the shop yesterday. She wants me to have dinner with her. To talk.”
I gripped his face in my hands and pulled so I could look at him. I searched his eyes, and he nodded. “Why didn’t you tell me? What did you say?”
I had no idea what had transpired with his mom all those years ago, only that she’d left shortly after Holt was born. Somewhere along the way, I’d gathered she didn’t have anything to do with any of the Dixons.
“She gave me her number. Told me to think about it.” His fingers dug into my back. “I threw it away when she left.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.” He glanced away from me. “And I really don’t want to talk about it.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
It was his turn to look surprised. “Okay?”
“Yeah. And I’m sorry about last night. What I said. The way I reacted.”
He placed a finger over my lips. “No need. I’m the one who’s sorry.”
I gave him a wobbly smile. “Are you coming home?”
He smoothed my cheek with his thumb. “Yeah, Easy. I’m coming home.” He flashed me a cocky grin. “And we’re having a roommate night tonight.”
Trust Me: A Roommates To Lovers Romance Novel (Free Book 2) Page 10