by Brea Viragh
“It might take me a bit to get him to a place where I can leave to drive you home,” Fenton sighed. His hand came to rest on his knee.
“Don’t bother. I’ll walk.”
“It’s almost a mile back to town. I don’t want you walking all the way back in the dark.”
“Then I’ll hitchhike. Don’t worry about me, stud. I know how to take care of myself.”
His hazel eyes studied me and, despite the exhaustion, picked up on my every move. Storing the memories away for later. His expression had shifted during these long hours. It went from closed off to curious. To concerned.
For the first time in a long time, it felt like he saw me. The real me. I was visible again. How did I tell him I felt our clock running out?
“I’ll see you at work tomorrow?”
“Bright and early. And before you can say it, I know. This can’t happen again.”
From the way his brows drew together, I can see I’d spoken the thoughts before he could voice them. Perfect. “Table the conversation for when I can think again.”
Oh? There was a stubbornness to his voice I hadn’t heard before. “You’re going to give me ideas if you talk like that.”
“Shari, please.” He made shooing gestures toward the door. “I don’t want you to see him like this. Go wait in the car and I’ll be out soon. Do not walk to town.”
To see you like this, I thought to myself. “Whatever you say. Try to have a good night.” Other words caught in my throat as I strode out the front door and let it click closed behind me. When would I ever learn not to play with toys that weren’t mine? I had never been good at sharing, and from the way Fenton reacted, I knew he cared for me. One of these days, maybe I’d get him to admit it. I clearly didn’t know the meaning of giving up. It wasn’t in my nature or vocabulary.
The sense of loneliness gave me pause.
Walking in silence, my mind racing, I could still feel him on me. Every press of his arms and fingers and chest. If only I could make myself go numb.
Understanding dawned slowly.
If one or both of us got hurt in the process, at least I would know I’d tried. And accept all the blame.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
My feet ached. I was pissed at myself for suggesting I would walk. What kind of idiot as I to offer to walk all those miles back to town, on the edge of night, in the middle of summer?
I slapped at a mosquito about to munch down on my ankle. Yeah, I was like candy to them.
“How could I not know that Liam was Fenton’s brother?” I spoke to myself, my heart beating in rhythm with my steps on the pavement. “I mean, how stupid am I? I’ve seen the man drunk in public dozens of times before. Way to not put two and two together, Shari.” Berating myself helped take my mind off of the walk.
His reaction to me made much more sense than it had earlier. My reaction to him was a different matter. I was acting like a crazed lunatic.
I hurried along until I was out of breath from walking too quickly. At long, long last, the town lights came into view and the tension released from my shoulders. I’d made it without any trouble.
A car honked and I waved at them.
My feet begged me to try and hitch a ride. Then I shook my head. It was late, and I was wearing my pajamas. A fission of fear worked cold fingers up and down my spine. God, I don’t know what I’d been thinking. It was stupid to attempt the walk with the sky darkening and strangers prowling the roads. People hit deer all the time, sometimes on purpose. There was nothing to stop someone from deciding to hit me, or pick me up and try to take advantage.
I pushed my legs to their utmost limit. Soon I was safe beneath the warm welcome glow of the streetlamps on the main strip. Within minutes I was back in the grocery store parking lot with my car keys in hand.
I pulled up short. “Book club!”
My eyes darted to the front doors of the store. Did I really feel like going back in for ice cream now? My stomach grumbled an affirmation. The rest of me felt tired. No, I’d have to send my apologies out, along with a list of why I was such a jerk for canceling without notice.
I had the front door open when a truck rumbled behind me, pulling into the next spot over.
“Hey, you ran off.”
I stiffened. “And you followed me. A little late, don’t you think?” I asked, sounding like a crabby teenager forced with a chore she didn’t want to do. “I’m sweaty and covered in mosquito bites.”
“I had to take care of Liam.” Fenton had parked next to me, leaning out the open window. “It took me a while to get him cleaned up. I told you to wait. Why didn’t you listen?”
“We were done with our conversation. Nothing else to say, anyway.” I pounded my fist against the steering wheel when the motor failed to turn over. It did this sometimes. The motor flooded and the darn thing refused to start. I tried not to call the car all manner of dirty names, counting to fifteen in my head.
“Car trouble?”
“No,” I growled. “It takes a few seconds sometimes. A few seconds of tender, loving care.” I smacked the steering wheel again.
“The offer to drive you home still stands. There’s no reason for you to get irritable and take it out on the car.”
“I’m not taking it out on the car!” I yelled.
“Is this about me kissing you?”
No, of course it wasn’t, the kiss had been amazing. As usual. Amazing and heart-wrenching, because part of me knew the likelihood of it happening again were slim to none.
“Look,” I began. “I’m tired, and I’m hot. I want to get home and take a bath and—” Forget. “Get a good night’s sleep.”
Fenton stepped out of the truck and came around to my window. “I’ve been telling you to get the car fixed. It seems like you’re always yelling at it.” He glanced around the emptying parking lot. “It’s not a good time for you to be here alone.”
“I made it in one piece. That’s how I’ll leave.”
“I want to talk to you more. I feel like we left things unbalanced.” His gaze lowered to the hood of the car and the lines around his eyes softened. “I feel it too, Shari. This spark between us. I have since the first day I met you.”
“Well,” I finally replied with more than a little pride, “if you ever decide you want to act on it again, you better make it quick. I’m not going to wait around for you much longer.”
“I don’t blame you.”
I shoved my fingers in my pockets and counted to fifteen again.
“Are you sure you’ll be okay getting home?” At least he looked as miserable as I suddenly felt. There was a win.
“I’m fine,” I insisted.
“That sounds like a fuck off if I’ve ever heard it.”
“No, Fenton, it’s not. And that’s the problem.” I can’t stop. It would be easier if I could. “What was her name? The one who broke your heart when she found out about Liam? You never told me.”
He started. “You want to hear about her now?”
My answer was petulant. “Yes.”
“Her name was Anna.”
“I don’t know much, but I’ve been a woman all my life, and I can tell you. A normal person wouldn’t break off a good thing due to someone having a brother they love who happens to have an addiction.” I turned to look at him. “My honest opinion? Don’t let some stupid bitch stop you from moving forward and taking a chance on love. Love is a gift. Handing it back? Anna wins. I’m not sure you want her to win.”
Emotion flashed behind his eyes, there and gone so fast I didn’t understand what I’d seen. He pushed his fingers through his hair and pulled at the strands. “I thought she was the one, you know? She basically became my life, my path forward, until everything I did was for her. Every thought in my head was about her. I didn’t tell her about Liam. He had been sober for months, off at a clinic drying out, and I thought for sure he was better. He was fixed. She came home alone and found him in the apartment. He’d broken a window to get in. She never fo
rgave me for it.” He took several pacing steps to gather his thoughts. “I tried to get her back, tried to explain that he had a disease, but I was mad. I was mad he’d fucked this up for me, mad at her for leaving and destroying my future. For months and months, all I did was sit around feeling angry, and resentful, and selfish. I didn’t want to go through it again.”
His hands fell to his sides.
“And yet you still help him,” I said softly. “It’s more than a lot of people would do for their family. Especially since he seems to be beyond help.”
I respected him more for his decision to be there for Liam.
“I thought I was done with the anger. At Liam, at Anna, at myself. I didn’t want to be like that anymore. It was exhausting.”
How was I going to tell him he’d moved from anger to fear? Which was equally exhausting, to live in a constant state of fear and what-ifs.
Once he’d opened the floodgates, it was difficult for Fenton to close them again. His hands moved in wild circles around his head as he spoke.
“And it wasn’t only Anna. It’s everyone. Everyone treats me differently, and how he is, and how they see him when he’s messed up. I’ve had people refuse to accept drinks I’ve made. I know, it seems ridiculous. I’ve had people not want to work with me on the job site. All because they know Liam. They know he has a problem and he automatically associates that I must have one too. Do you understand? I need to focus on getting ahead before I can think about love. It isn’t about you, Shari, and it has never been.”
“If you’re so stuck in this idea then why did you sleep with me?”
“…I couldn’t stop myself. I wanted you too badly. I went back on my word for the first time in my life.”
“Oh, and I can see the guilt is eating you up on the inside.” I cranked the key again, listening to the engine turn over and over and over. Come on, baby. At last, something worked, whether it be the mechanics of men or the power of positive thinking. The car started.
“Don’t you notice, though? How people treat you in a different way?” Fenton stared at the hood of the car for a moment, surprised, then back to me. “You said your sister went through the same thing.”
“Yeah, she did, and yeah, they did, but you want to know the difference between us? I never let it bother me.”
He seemed to stop for a moment, his entire body halted mid-motion, mid-stride, mid-rant. I wasn’t sure if it was something I said or another point he wanted to make clicking into place inside of his head, giving him pause.
“I guess I don’t know what to do anymore, Shari.” He let his hands drop to his side.
“Well, I can’t wait around forever.” My nerves were on high alert. For something to do, I lifted a loose strand of hair and tucked it behind my ear. “When you figure it out, let me know.”
“Are you sure this isn’t you feeling pity for me?” he asked as I made to drive away, raising his voice.
“You don’t need my pity, Fenton. What you need is a good swift kick in the ass and a reality check. People are going to act whatever way they want to, and it’s up to you to decide how you react.” My chest expanded to bring in a much-needed breath of air. I held it for a moment, watching the emotions play across his face before I let it loose. “But it’s too late for psychobabble like this. I’ll see you tomorrow for work.”
He reached out and placed his hand through my open window. My foot pressed down on the brake to make sure the car didn’t roll forward. “We’re almost finished,” he said softly. “Another week at the most and I’ll let the guys go.”
“I know. You still need to come up with a name. I have the website ready and waiting for when you do. I need to hit publish.”
“I’m getting to it. What are you going to do? When we’re done?”
I rubbed my palms on my pajama shorts and stared at his fingers, curled over the side of the door. Smiling, I lifted my eyes to his. “Once I stop feeling sorry for myself? Whatever the hell I want.”
With that, and a little push on the gas to get the engine rolling, I drove out of the parking lot and left Fenton standing there.
It had taken me too long to remove the blindfolds I’d lived with most of my life, I knew. There was a time I focused entirely on what other people had to say about me, and Jackie, and our parents. When I finally realized I didn’t have to let their opinions control me, I was free, and I took off at a run without looking back. Fenton, on the other hand, was still standing at the beginning of the race, with his laces untied.
A week ago, I might have offered to stand with him and give them a tug myself. I sighed and let my hand slam down on the steering wheel.
“This sucks,” I said out loud. “This majorly sucks.”
I couldn’t pull him along dragging and screaming. Whatever hang-ups Fenton had about the future, it wasn’t something I could solve by being present. He either figured it out on his own or…
It was the or that scared me. The or meant I had to leave him behind while I moved ahead. Without him. Without any hope for the future I’d put so much thought into. The future I’d begun to accept as my own.
It stung.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The house was beautiful.
Dammit!
I’d known the end was in sight, those last few items checked off the punch list and the finishing touches coming together. Most of the men had been sent away with only a few of them left to finish up odd jobs.
This was it.
It was more difficult than I thought to fight off the impending depression. Knowing my days would no longer be filled with the hustle and bustle of an active construction zone. Knowing I was starting over yet again and damned if I wasn’t going to miss how it all made me feel. The work was fulfilling, the men charming in their own ways, and for some reason it had started to feel more like a family working together than a bunch of strangers.
I tapped my pen against the clipboard. It was my final walkthrough of the place and I couldn’t dismiss my disappointment. Something inside of me grieved that the job was over. The bed and breakfast would be up and functional within the week. I’d gone the extra mile toward setting up a profile for the place and starting to advertise across varying marketplaces. Reservations were trickling in.
Which meant Fenton wouldn’t need me anymore. I knew he had a few new prospects for different properties on the line. He hadn’t spoken to me about it. He hadn’t spoken to me about coming with him, either.
It could only mean one thing, and I didn’t want to think about the meaning. Not when my heart was heavy.
Those last weeks on the job, I’d thrown myself back into work. The papers, the men and their laughter. Finding the perfect pieces and balancing the budget and books. This was it, I kept thinking. This moment.
Being happy with life, that was what mattered. I was alive and healthy, with the warm morning air coming through the windows and the pure, light fragrance of flowers outside the window and newly planted gardens rioting around the front porch.
I’d watched Fenton plant butterfly weed. Jasmine. Roses. And lilies, of course. With any country home there had to be lilies. With summer coming into full swing, they would fill the first floor with their scent and beautiful color. For the honeymoon suite, there would be red and white roses outside the tiny courtyard patio I’d managed to squeeze into the plans. A pergola to keep the worst of the sun at bay and give the roses something to climb.
I choked up when I remembered how Fenton fought me the entire way. He didn’t have the time or the money for a pergola. It was an extra he hadn’t budgeted and where the hell did I keep getting this money from?
I didn’t have the heart to tell him I’d chipped in a little from my savings to make it perfect. Honestly, what good would it do now? I was back to square one financially and struggling with emotions I didn’t know could exist inside of me.
I could picture the two of us standing out there. A bluesy jazz tune crooning from a radio and his hands on my waist. Another dance, o
ne of many. His arms around me and his fingers loose on mine, spinning me in a circle until we both laughed from the sheer joy of the moment.
I tried to push those images away but they kept coming. Those images where my man took his woman in his arms and made promises. Those thoughts, those dreams, were for fools who didn’t know when to give up. Hell if I’d be counted among them! I know I’d said I would wait…but it hurt to wait. My shoulders dropped. It hurt to wait knowing the other person wasn’t ready to make a move. Wondering if he ever would be ready.
I didn’t want to live in the past. It was dead. It was gone.
I would look to the future, capricious as it was.
Why did the thought make me feel sick?
I realized I’d been standing in front of the parlor window and blinked, drawing myself into the present. Rubbing my stomach against a sudden ache.
When Bud came up behind me and tapped my shoulder, I fought to give him a smile. A brilliant one where I didn’t have to pretend.
“You did a good job here,” he told me. His thumbs hooked into the waistband of his jeans and he set me with a serious face. It was as good a compliment as any I’d received. Especially coming from him.
“Thank you. It looks perfect.” Even feeling sick at heart, I wasn’t one for modesty. Bud was right. It was a good job. One I was proud to put my stamp on.
I wanted to continue those online design classes, when it pushed my credit cards to the limits. At least I would have the bed and breakfast to use in my portfolio.
I followed Bud through the living room, circling the new furniture and sleek, stylish pieces I’d picked myself. They were optional to keep. If Fenton didn’t enjoy the look then he could return them. I made sure he was aware of the sixty-day return policy.
“I should have gone with the navy blue on this piece, despite the extra cost,” I told him. “It would have been better for the flow of the room.”
Bud laughed. “Can’t squeeze blood out of an orange. We all do the best we can within the budget. You didn’t break the bank and the place turned out.”
“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” I flashed the back of my hand to his forehead. “I’ve heard you complain nonstop about my design and here you are giving me a compliment. I’m not sure I can take it.”