His mouth pressed into a hard frown. Apparently, that wasn’t enough to erase his fears. “The food truck was never what you wanted, kiddo. What happened to working in a restaurant? You spent all your money in Europe and came back with funny ideas.”
My gladiator sandals were suddenly the most interesting thing in the room. I’d come back from Europe to be with him. If Dad hadn’t gotten sick, I didn’t know that I would have ever returned. I would have cooked my life away with cash under the table in ancient, greasy kitchens where nobody recognized my ex-boyfriend’s name.
“I came back from Europe to settle down.”
“You were settled down,” he reminded me. “Isn’t that what you were doing with that stuck-up boyfriend?”
I shivered at the memory of Derrek, a sickly feeling rolling over my spine and curdling in my stomach. “Derrek was a mistake.”
“And what was Europe?”
My salvation. But I didn’t say that out loud.
Dad had never given me a hard time about Europe before. He’d barely said anything about Derrek, even though I knew he didn’t like him. So, what was this all about?
I held onto my patience, but barely. “Europe was an effort to expand my craft.”
“So you could open a food truck? I love you, Vera, but I’m not going to be around forever. I just...” His expression changed, twisting with grief and regret and something that hurt to look at. When my heart squeezed, and it became hard to swallow, I realized it was fear. My dad was afraid for me. “I just want to know that you’re going to be okay.”
“I’m fine.” And I tried to sound fine. I thought I might have even pulled it off.
But dad’s pained expression only darkened and the pang in my chest only sharpened. “No, you’re not, baby girl. I don’t know what you’re keeping to yourself, but those demons must be pretty evil for you to have run all the way across an ocean to get away from them. I’m sorry I made you come back.”
“You didn’t make me,” I whispered, but neither of us was convinced. “I wouldn’t give up this time with you for anything.”
That didn’t appease him. Before we could continue our conversation, though, Leanne stopped by to check on him. When she asked how he was doing, he asked for a blanket. “And one for my daughter too. She’s bound and determined to see this through with me, but she shouldn’t have to turn into a popsicle.”
Leanne smiled at me, kindness shining through for my commitment to my dad. “I’ll be right back.”
When she’d walked away again, I surprised myself by admitting, “I’m happier than I’ve been in a long time.” Dad focused on me, searching my face for the truth. “And when Derrek and I ended… or even before we ended, I wasn’t sure that I would ever be happy again. Europe helped. I won’t ever regret going. I can’t regret it, not when it did so much to help me move on. But I’m glad that I’m back. I’m glad I get to spend so much time with you and Vann. I’m glad that Molly and I are in the same city again. And I love my food truck. Honestly, Dad. I’m not as much of a tragedy as you think I am.”
My confession helped him relax. His shoulders lost their rigid lines, and his barrel of a chest breathed easier. “I love you, Vera. More than anything in this world. I’m fighting this damn disease the best I can, but if I can’t win, I just need you to know that you deserve all the great things in this life. You don’t ever need to settle, baby girl. Not ever.”
Hot tears pricked at my eyes, quickly spilling over my lashes to my cheeks. I tried discretely to brush them away, but they just kept falling. “I love you too, Daddy,” I sniffled. “You’ve already given me great things. You should never worry about that. I have them. And because of you, I have my truck too. If you’re worried about me being prepared to be on my own, I am. You made sure of that.”
And as I said the words, I realized they were true. I had been stupid with Derrek, but not because my dad hadn’t taught me better. He had. He’d made sure I knew how to be a successful adult.
I just hadn’t listened.
Dad finally dozed off, filling the quiet space with light snuffling. Leanne stopped back over when dad had reached REM and I was getting bored with my phone. Derrek’s message still lit up my message box, but I refused to open it… refused to acknowledge its existence. There were more messages now. I’d lost count how many time a new notification popped up on my phone. Apparently, he’d decided that I was the Vera he was looking for. But I wouldn’t read them.
I couldn’t read them.
“Is he still doing okay?” she asked, checking him out.
I inclined my head toward him. “He’s basically Rip Van Winkle.”
She smiled fondly at him. “I’m always impressed with how quickly he can fall asleep. It always takes me forever to wind down.”
“He’s always been like this. My brother is the same way. They just pass out.”
“Men,” she murmured with a tilt of her head. “They don’t worry about things like we do.” I laughed politely, but she wasn’t exactly right. My dad worried better than anyone I knew. And maybe sometimes he was justified in it. She turned to me. “Can I get you a paper or magazine?”
“Sure. I’d love a paper. Thank you.”
She returned with the Herald-Sun a few minutes later. Most industry gossip was found online, with food bloggers and online magazines. But newspapers could always be counted on to print reviews. I flipped straight to the Living section, anxious to see if there was anything new in the Durham area and maybe, possibly, see if something had been written about Foodie. It was a long shot, and nobody had contacted me about it or anything, but a girl could hope.
Instead of local news, a familiar face stared at me from the flat pages. It was a write up for a newish restaurant in Charlotte making a splash in the southeast.
I tried to swallow around the gritty lump in my throat, but I couldn’t seem to manage.
Derrek leaned against an industrial cooktop, surrounded by smooth steel and shiny accessories. His crisp white chef’s coat had no wrinkles, his name and restaurant name perfectly embroidered over the right breast. His eyes looked kind in the picture, creasing in the corners and glittering with pride. And his face. His face that was so good looking it almost hurt.
Unlike Killian, who screamed danger and mayhem and broken rules, Derrek was all-American- blonde, blue-eyed with clean-cut, chiseled features. After I’d moved in with him and things had turned for the worse, I used to wonder if his success had more to do with his appearance than his skill in the kitchen. He was a good chef, but he wasn’t phenomenal.
But it wasn’t just his looks and mediocre talent that propelled his career skyward. Even I could admit that the man had charisma. He was charming, alluring, he made everyone feel comfortable and cared about. Nobody could resist him.
Especially not me.
Not until I’d learned my lesson the hard way.
Now he’d managed national acclaim. I wasn’t surprised. Disappointed in the American people as a whole, but not surprised.
My stomach churned, and chills crawled over my body, making me paranoid. My fear was silly and unfounded. It was just a picture. He couldn’t see me. He didn’t know I’d found this article or bothered to read it.
He didn’t know anything about me anymore.
I sucked in a deep breath and clenched my hands into tight fists to keep them from shaking. I didn’t like to think about him anymore, or the time I spent with him. But once in a while, when I was afraid of the future or disappointed with how little I had done with my life so far, I allowed myself to imagine what my life would have been like if I’d have stayed with him.
Would he have proposed by now?
Would he have made me quit my job by now?
Would he have hospitalized me by now?
Would he have killed me by now?
A sour feeling of dread snaked through my stomach, threatening to make me toss up my breakfast, followed by a flash of heat and sweat. God, I was a mess when it came to Derrek.
One part relief that I wasn’t still with him. One part embarrassment that I’d become a victim, that I’d let myself get sucked into an abusive relationship to begin with. One part hate—pure, raw, violent hate. And one part fear. Fear that he would find me again. Fear that he would suck me back in, remind me that I was nothing without him, that I would never be anything without him. Fear that he wouldn’t give me the choice. That he would demand my obedience.
And I would give it to him.
Again.
I felt like an addict in the worst way. And it was the sick addiction that scared me the most. Because I knew what I wanted and he wasn’t it. I knew how to be happy again, and he wasn’t the way. I knew how to stay healthy and go after my dreams and be my own, independent woman. And yet the threat of what he could do to me, how he could destroy every single thing, was very real.
And knowing that still didn’t take away the fear. Because I didn’t trust that there wasn’t some way he could convince me to go back to him.
He had stripped me of self-worth and confidence and everything I needed to be me. He’d turned me into a submissive, weak, shell of a woman. He’d broken me.
What if he did it again?
What if he didn’t turn me weak? What if I’d always been weak?
And he had simply been stronger?
When Leanne came back at the end of my dad’s treatment, I still clutched the Living section in my sweaty hands. She woke Dad and unhooked him. His sleepy gaze swept over the paper. I didn’t know if he recognized Derrek or not, but he didn’t comment on him.
He wrapped his heavy arm around my shoulder, and we walked to the car. It wasn’t until we were buckled and headed back home that he reached over from the passenger’s seat and settled his warm hand on my still-chilled shoulder. “I’m proud of you, Vera. No matter what I said earlier, you should know that I’m proud of the woman you’ve become and all that you’ve accomplished. I only worry because it’s my job.”
I gave him a watery smile, unable to speak past the lump in my throat.
“And you don’t need him,” he went on, surprising the hell out of me. “I know you’ve kept what happened a secret because you think you’re protecting me, but I see it, Vera. I see that he hurt you badly. Hell, I had to deal with him after you left, calling the house twenty times a day. I know that he damaged you somehow and I hate him for it. I’d like to kill him for it. But I know I don’t need to. You’re stronger than that boy. And you deserve better. You deserve the best. I’ve never known anyone more deserving than you, baby girl.”
“Thanks, Dad,” I hiccupped on a mushy sob.
He squeezed my shoulder, his large hand engulfing me, making me feel small, protected. “You’ll get your picture in the paper soon enough. You just watch. He’ll be reading about you soon enough.”
I nodded, accepting his comfort without explaining that recognition was the last thing I wanted. Well, at least now, after I read Derrek’s feature.
He’d inadvertently put things into perspective for me. I wasn’t trying to make national or even statewide news. I needed to stay under the radar, do my thing quietly, inconspicuously and without drawing attention to myself.
Derrek could make the paper all he wanted; I just hoped he wasn’t dating anyone new.
Not for my sake.
But for hers.
* * *
That afternoon, after I had dropped Dad off and made sure Vann would be by later to check on him, I headed to the truck. I had about ten thousand things to do for the weekend, especially after the chicken and waffle flop. I needed to up my game. I couldn’t have any more train wrecks like that.
I’d learned so much in the few months that I’d been opened, but business could be better. My business management skills could be better. My food could be better. Basically, every single thing could be better.
I hadn’t heard back from any of the bakeries I’d stopped by, and I still hadn’t found a produce vendor I was happy with. So far I’d managed with the closest organic grocery store, but it was gouging my budget. I needed a place with fresh fruits and vegetables without breaking the bank.
All in all, though, I’d learned a ton since I’d opened. Nothing had been smooth or easy or natural, but I was getting the hang of it. Mostly.
I opened the windows and propped the door open. The truck hummed with electricity while the fans whirred to life. I stepped in front of one and tried to cool down.
Vann’s bike shop buzzed with activity around me. Cyclists from all over the city had shown up for a weekly group ride. There was a little Mexican restaurant outside the city where they went to celebrate Taco Tuesday. I’d told Vann I would serve tacos to them, so they didn’t have to go all the way to Mama Bonita, but Vann said that defeated the purpose. Clearly, cyclists were crazy.
Enough of them stopped by to see if I sold power drinks or energy bars though that I seriously contemplated stocking them for the future. I offered them cans of soda, but they looked at me like I had lost my damn mind.
When someone knocked on the door, I assumed it was another one of them. “I don’t have anything made by Gatorade. I’m not even open.”
“No, I, uh, I wasn’t looking for anything. I just saw you were here.”
I spun around. Killian stood in the doorframe. His arms were braced on either side, but he had yet to step inside.
“I thought you were one of them.” I pointed to the human-size bumble bees behind him— because of all the yellow and black spandex. “They want me to whip them up some go bars and energy squeezies.”
He wrinkled his nose, as unimpressed as I had been. “That’s disgusting.”
“My brother is one of them, and I can safely say they don’t know the difference between cardboard and what they keep in their refrigerators. If it’s not tasteless and full of protein, they don’t want it.”
He nodded, but didn’t say anything else on the subject. Instead, he seemed to watch me for a minute, thinking something over. When he finally spoke again, he said the very last thing I ever expected him to say. “I’ve never asked, and it’s kind of silly to do so now, but I gotta know, Delane. Do you have a boyfriend?”
My heart stuttered, tripping over uneven beats and panic. Derrek’s article flashed in my head, and I worried that Killian knew. How did he find out I’d dated Derrek? Had he seen the article? Did Killian know Derrek? Did he know what Derrek was really like? Or did Killian respect him like the rest of the industry?
I inhaled slowly and answered as evenly as I could. “I don’t have a boyfriend.” I looked down at the knife in my hand and swallowed thickly. I sounded nervous, unsteady. And apparently, Killian thought so too because he just stood there staring at me. His eyebrows squished together over his nose and I could feel the concern bubbling up inside him. I rushed to rescue the conversation and cover my jittery behavior. “Unless you count the truck. Then things are new, but we took out a loan together so I guess I’m stuck with him.” I tried for sarcastic, but my voice sounded brittle and unconvinced. I hiccupped an awkward laugh and then just started spitting out words in an anti-effort to salvage my dignity. “And thank God for that, because I honestly don’t want a boyfriend. The only thing I’m capable of committing to right now is food.” Oh, God. The words just wouldn’t stop. “I mean, clearly I’m a walking disaster. A guy would have to be insane to date me. Or be one of those guys that likes crazy girls. And what does that say about them? Besides how hypocritical is our culture that a girl that’s high drama gets labeled as crazy, but a guy that enjoys high drama is what? Nothing? Applauded for putting up with her? It’s such a double standard.”
Killian stared at me for a minute, not saying anything and not doing anything. I turned back to the counter and put the knife away. Talking about boyfriends made me stabby. I didn’t want to be responsible for what happened to Killian if he pried any further.
Not that he pried.
He just asked a question, and I verbally vomited all over him.
After
a long, uncomfortable silence, he said, “Uh, I came over to ask if you wanted to go out with some of us from the restaurant tonight? It’s Wyatt’s birthday.”
Surprised by his offer, I turned around and leaned against the counter. If I was honest, I was surprised that he was still here. He hadn’t fled. He’d witnessed some of my crazy and hadn’t abandoned me. He stood there as calm and patient as always.
Something warm and bubbly burst through me. I crossed my arms, trying to ward off the sensation, but I couldn’t manage to banish it. I tried to convince myself that it was just nice to be included with the staff at Lilou, but even my stubborn heart saw through the lie. It had nothing to do with Wyatt or his birthday and everything to do with the cocky, self-absorbed chef standing in my doorway. “Where are you going?”
Killian inclined his head toward the other side of the plaza. “Probably Verve or Greenlight. It could be cool.”
“Yeah, it could be.”
Half his mouth lifted in a coaxing smile, partly hidden behind his beard. “You don’t sound convinced.”
“No, it’s not that. I mean, Wyatt’s cool. And I should probably get him a gift for all he’s put up with from me anyway. I just don’t know anybody except you and the birthday boy.”
He shrugged, playing cool, but his shoulders were rigid, and he’d crossed his arms over his chest. “Yeah, but you do know me. We could hang out. Away from food and our places of employment.”
I licked my suddenly dry lips and avoided his gaze. God, I wanted to say yes. My first instinct was to say yes. To jump at the chance to see what he was like away from a kitchen. To get to know him without the pressure of performing. But Derrek was too fresh in my mind, a dark shadow that lingered in every corner of my new happiness.
Killian sensed my hesitation and threw me a life preserver. “You don’t have to decide now. Just see how you feel later.”
“How will I find you?” Not that I was thinking about going. Because I wasn’t.
Opposites Attract: The complete box set Page 17