The Opposite of You

by Rachel Higginson

  I finally picked out iceberg. It wasn’t the most inventive of greens, but it would braise well. I paid him and promised to come pick it up before he closed for the day.

  Killian took over, grilling the guy like he had the first vendor. He asked no less than a thousand questions. I just watched him, mentally taking notes on everything he said.

  He didn’t end up buying anything. The vendor was just as surprised as I was. Killian thanked him but didn’t make any promises to come back.

  “Did I buy bad lettuce?” I asked when we’d turned away from the stand.

  “There’s not a whole lot to lettuce. You’ll be fine.”

  I stared at him. “What was wrong with everything else?”

  He shrugged that casual one shoulder shrug. I wanted to whack-a-mole it. “Nothing is wrong with it. It’s just not… Here, I’ll show you.”

  My poor battered heart lurched. His words felt heavier than our simple morning at a farmer’s market. I should have left.

  Run away.

  Instead, I did something simple and utterly irreversible, something that would be the beginning of the end for me. I didn’t walk away.

  I let him show me.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Killian reached down and grabbed my hand, pulling me after him. I stared at our interlocked fingers for a minute while he weaved through cluttered aisles and clumps of shoppers inspecting produce as thoroughly as Killian had.

  His hand wrapped around mine, hot with his body heat, strong with all those sinewy muscles. I shouldn’t have let him get his way so easily. I should have put up some kind of fight or stood up for myself or something, but I couldn’t do anything besides let him lead me.

  My past had damaged me. This was something I was well aware of. But for whatever reason, Killian Quinn felt like healing.

  My last year in Europe had been a buffet of available men; men that hadn’t been looking for something serious or committed. Men I could have used to help me move on after Derrek.

  And I’d been unable to open myself up to any of them. I couldn’t risk being vulnerable with someone again. I couldn’t gamble with my heart and lose, falling right back into an old pattern. I couldn’t trust myself not to choose another loser.

  So, I’d remained withdrawn, wholly focused on working on my craft. That’s what I should be doing now.

  Instead, I let Killian drag me around without a fight. I couldn’t muster up the same fears that had poisoned me since Derrek.

  I even, maybe just a little, felt safe with his hand holding mine.

  Felt healthier than I had in years.

  It was a stupid feeling to have. Dumb. Idiotic.

  And yet there it was. I wasn’t afraid of Killian.

  Not even a tiny bit.

  The vendor saw us approach when we were still a few stalls away. She stepped from behind her crates of lush produce and smiled at Killian like he was the sun in her sky. She was an elderly woman with richly tanned skin, leathery and lined from days spent outside. She wore a faded denim shirt, rolled up to the elbows and a similar pair of worn jeans with gardening gloves sticking out of her back pocket. Her salt and peppered hair sat in a tight bun at her nape, a neatly folded scarf hung around her neck.

  She was farm-life personified.

  Killian let go of my hand, but not before her shrewd eyes noticed that he’d been linked to me. Momentarily forgetting about me, he stepped up to her and wrapped her in a tight hug, crushing her against his chest.

  She wasn’t a short woman, but she looked tiny against him. Her gray-streaked hair vanished beneath his beard as he momentarily rested his cheek against the top of her head. He gave her a quick kiss before pulling out of the hug, keeping one arm around her shoulders.

  “Vera, I’d like you to meet Jo, my foster mom. Jo, this is Vera Delane.”

  Jo left Killian’s side and extended a calloused hand to me. I took it, intimidated by her strength and direct gaze. “It’s nice to meet you, Vera.”

  “Yes, you too,” I told her genuinely. I wanted so badly to ask Killian about his childhood. I hadn’t known he had a foster mom. I hadn’t known he didn’t have parents. Or maybe he’d been adopted at some point? Despite everything I’d learned or discovered via cyberstalking his rise to greatness, there was so much about Killian I didn’t know.

  Killian stepped in before the silence between us grew awkward. “Vera opened a food truck across the street from Lilou. She needs a good place to shop.”

  Jo’s grin stretched across her face. “Well, you’ve come to the right place.”

  “I’ve been looking all over the city for a market like this. I didn’t know it existed until Killian told me about it.”

  “He must like you then,” she chuckled. “He doesn’t usually share.”

  I nodded. “I’ve noticed.”

  “Alright,” he interrupted. His hand fell to my lower back, and he nudged me forward, toward perfect looking produce. “Don’t you have shopping to do, Delane?”

  I could have grilled Jo for hours on Killian. What was he like as a kid? Has he always been a genius in the kitchen? Has he always been this cocky? Focused? Intense? Can I see pictures???

  “Take a look around,” Jo encouraged. “Killian’s helped me plant over the years, so I should have whatever you need.”

  I raised an eyebrow at Killian. “That was nice of you.”

  “Yeah, well I didn’t mean for it to be. I wanted Jo to be my personal gardener, but she’s bound and determined to make money from other people. It’s annoying.”

  She looked at the sky, slapping Killian with the back of her hand simultaneously. “Heaven forbid I pay the bills.”

  Killian’s voice dropped low and frustrated. “I told you I’d help out with those.”

  She shook her head and moved back to her vegetables, lovingly reorganizing the ones that had been picked through. “How’s Ezra by the way? I haven’t heard from the greedy little bastard in a while.”

  Suddenly the cucumbers were super interesting. I picked one up and shamelessly eavesdropped on their entire conversation.

  “The same,” Killian replied evenly. “He wants to fire the chef at Bianca. He’s dating again. He won’t leave me alone.”

  Jo glared at a pretty pile of heirloom tomatoes. “He should fire that idiot at Bianca.”

  “He can’t get anyone to replace him,” Killian added as if reminding her.

  I moved over to some plump, red strawberries. Jo softened, turning an affectionate smile on Killian. “What about the dating? I suppose that’s going the same way.”

  Killian chuckled darkly. “Would you risk being turned into a restaurant?”

  “He did that to himself. No respectable girl is going to go out with him only to be dumped for the sake of his empire.”

  The nosy busybody inside me perked up at this new information. Now if only they would turn the conversation to Killian.

  “No respectable girl should date him anyway. He’s not interested in settling down. He’s married to the business.”

  Jo snorted. “I’m sure he loves hearing that from you. You’re no better.” I pretended not to notice when she turned her attention to me, staring directly without saying anything.

  Killian didn’t seem to notice her averted attention. “I stay out of his business. And he stays out of mine.”

  “Unless you’re both in the kitchen.”

  Killian growled something I couldn’t make out.

  Jo’s voice softened, gentled. “Don’t leave him, Killian. You know he needs you.”

  “Jo…” Killian warned.

  She raised her hands in surrender. “Alright, I’ll stay out of your business. I’m just saying, you need each other. There’s no reason to fight every day of your lives.” I felt her gaze the second it snapped back to me. “And what about you, Vera? Are you having success setting up across the street from Lilou?”

  I tried to pretend like I hadn’t been listening to every single word of their conversation. I l
ifted my gaze from the strawberries and looked as innocent as possible. “Hmm?”

  “Your food truck?” Jo pushed, unafraid of asking personal details. “How do you do over there across from Lilou? I can’t imagine you have the same clientele?”

  Jo seemed to know a lot about the food industry for looking like a simple farmer. I decided to grill Killian later.

  “We don’t,” I agreed. “I cater more to the bar crowd. Our peak hours are different. When Lilou starts to close is when business takes off for me.”

  “Did you plan that?”

  I met her stare with courage I didn’t know I possessed. Her question was simple, but her meaning was deeper. She wanted to know if I had intentionally set up across from Lilou to use its success to my advantage.

  “My brother owns the bike shop, Cycle Life. He lets me park in his lot rent free.”

  Her shoulders relaxed just a bit, and her claws retracted. Apparently, she believed me enough to move on. “Do you have a lot of family in the area?”

  “Not really. Just my older brother and Dad.”

  “Oh, so you’re from here?”

  I subtly brushed my hand over my forehead, wiping the nervous beads of sweat out of sight. I felt like I should be under an interrogation lamp. Her questions were simple enough, but it was her direct gaze, her shrewd insight that made me jumpy. She saw way more than I wanted her to. “I am. I left for a few years to get my degree and check out life outside of Durham. But I moved back a few months ago when my dad was diagnosed with bladder cancer.”

  “Oh, my.” She wrapped an arm around her waist and settled her other hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry, Vera. That is just awful. What stage?”

  I cleared my throat and tried not to let the always bubbling tears surface. “Four. He’s almost done with his first round of treatment.”

  Jo’s hand slid to cradle her jaw. “Did they give him much hope?”

  “I’m not sure,” I answered honestly. “They didn’t at first. His doctor and oncologist made it seem like he might as well plan his funeral. But since he started treatment, they’ve stopped treating him like a walking corpse. We’re just kind of waiting to see. I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

  “My husband, Mac, died of colon cancer.”

  “Oh, no. I’m so sorry.”

  She waved me off. “That was years ago. Before Killian ever came to live with me. I’m just saying, cancer is a vindictive bitch. I hate that you have to watch someone you love go through it.”

  I was humbled by her succinct but authentic consolation. I found that most people didn’t know what to say or how to reply when we dropped the C-bomb. Jo just got straight to it. Cancer sucked. There wasn’t really any other way to respond besides acknowledging that.

  “Thanks,” I told her. “I hate it too.”

  She offered me a tight smile, then pointed at the strawberries. “Now let’s get to it. I’m sure you’re here to rip me off. I hate delaying the pleasure for you.”

  I laughed, thinking she was joking, but she remained stone-faced, so I didn’t know what to think. She moved behind the counter and started to dig around for something. I looked at Killian for help and found his gaze already on me.

  He was statue still, rigid and tight, coiled like a snake about to strike. I took a step back, not knowing what his problem was. Or why he was looking at me like that, like he couldn’t decide what to do with me.

  “You should have told me.” His voice was nothing but steel and gravel, restrained aggression and cool control.

  My voice, on the other hand, was a croaky whisper, two parts confused and one part embarrassingly flattered. “About my dad?” He nodded. “It’s never come up. I don’t know when I would have told you.”

  “I wouldn’t have—”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yes, you would have. Don’t even pretend like you would have treated me any differently.”

  His lips quirked, ticking his beard on one side. “Maybe. But I might have been kinder about how I went about it.”

  “Well, now you know. I’ll expect flowers and chocolate now instead of nasty notes scratched on the back of order tickets.”

  His smirk stretched into a full-blown smile. “I doubt the critiques will stop. But we can work in some chocolate. That sounds fair.”

  Before I could think of a clever reply, Jo interrupted with a calculator in her hand. “Were you wanting strawberries? Or was it something else that caught your eye?”

  My gaze swept over her produce once again. “I get why you didn’t want to buy from the other guy,” I told Killian first. “I see the difference.”

  Killian tapped the wooden table with his pointer finger. “Jo knows her shit. She’ll set you up with whatever you need.”

  I entered into conversation with Jo, haggling just like she’d accused. I realized that Killian hadn’t stopped me from buying peppers because Jo didn’t keep a stock that extensive. Although her lettuce was better than what I’d already bought. I ended up picking everything else I needed for the weekend from her except for protein and cheese.

  By the time Killian said goodbye to Jo and helped carry all my packages to my car, I had dropped a significant amount of money. And I was okay with that. I felt better about spending it today than I had in a long time.

  It wasn’t as though I was completely destitute anymore. Foodie had been making enough money for me to continually put the profit back into the food and utilities and social media advertising.

  If I had been living on my own and had those expenses to pay or had to rent a spot for my truck, I might have been in some unsustainable territory. With my family’s help, I could invest a little more each weekend. It was a good feeling.

  I hadn’t crashed and burned.

  Not yet.

  “Do you want some help with your purchases?” I asked Killian when he’d put the last bag of organic goodies in my trunk and slammed it shut.

  “Jo delivers straight to Lilou,” he explained. “I have a standing order with her. She knows what I like.”

  I propped my hip against the passenger side door. “Must be nice to be the great Killian Quinn.”

  “Hey, we all have delivery services,” he pointed out, referring to commercial kitchens. “I just have the best one.”

  “So, foster mom, huh?” It wasn’t exactly a subtle question, but I was too curious to be polite.

  He squinted, watching the market close for the day instead of me. “Yeah, the one that finally stuck.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He dropped his gaze to mine, and I had to take a deep breath to steady my erratic nerves. How could I be attracted to someone as serious and intense as Killian? How could I even consider a man so similar to my ex? At least on the surface. It made no sense.

  There had to be something wrong with me.

  “That’s a story for a different time,” he answered. “It’s kind of dramatic and I don’t want to scare you off just yet.”

  I swallowed the disappointment and covered my reaction with sarcasm. “Too late.”

  His crooked smile made my insides melty. “We should make some time to talk about it, though. I’ll share all the gory details of my childhood, and you can tell me about your dad. We don’t even have to talk about food.”

  The bottom fell out from beneath me, and I was surprised I didn’t have to flail as I regained my balance. “Are you asking me on a date?”

  He lifted one shoulder. “Yeah, a date. It could be fun.”

  I licked dry lips and wished I could take a step back. “As fun as talking about my sick dad and your traumatic childhood sounds, I, uh, I can’t.”

  His low voice softened, but not in a gentle way. Careful. Controlled. Curious. “You can’t?”

  His frown, his smooth voice, his intimidating tattoos that made him so much cooler than me, flustered me. I didn’t know how to explain to him that it wasn’t him. It was me. It was all me. But there were too many secrets that accompanied that truth. If I told him one, I
’d have to tell them all. And I wasn’t ready for that.

  He wanted to keep his past a secret.

  So did I.

  “I just got out of a relationship,” I braved. “It ended badly. I’m not ready to get into something new.”

  “I’m not asking you to marry me,” he countered. “Just a drink. Share a meal with me. Have a conversation. Nothing crazy.”

  God, I wanted to say yes. Yes, to all of it. A drink, a meal, a conversation… him. I wanted him. “I know,” I mumbled. I felt my chest start to crack, a thin fissure that snaked from breastbone to navel, starting the fracture that would split me open. But I’d stopped trusting myself to do the right thing a long time ago.

  I couldn’t give in now.

  I couldn’t undo everything I’d worked so hard to get back.

  “I need more time,” I told him, my voice thin with desperation. I needed him to understand. To back off before I crumbled under the light pressure of his interest. “I’m sorry, it was just a really bad relationship. How did you phrase it? Gory.” Only I meant that quite literally.

  A muscle in his neck jumped. “You broke up recently?”

  “Before I left for Europe,” I confessed. “Over a year ago.”

  His shoulders drooped, and I could have sworn his expression twisted with disappointment. “You’re not over him?”

  My heart tripped over its erratic beating, and I nearly fell over. He assumed I was still hung up on Derrek? And of course he would, because he didn’t know any of the details, but he had no idea. The idea that I was still interested… that I could still want… My stomach twisted at the very thought.

  Never again.

  I would never give into Derrek again.

  Even if that meant a lifetime of celibacy and no professional recognition.

  “It’s not what you think. I’m over what happened. I’m just… I just can’t get a drink with you or a meal. I’m sorry, Killian.”

  “Don’t apologize,” he ordered, his voice unrelenting with the demand. “You said no. That’s all I needed. I’m sorry to make you keep explaining.”