Damaged (Crystal Brook Billionaires)

by Blake, Jessica

  “You’re hard to figure out,” she said, interrupting my daydream.

  I scoffed and her eyes narrowed even more.

  “What?” she asked.

  “That’s kind of the pot calling the kettle black.”

  Her shoulders tensed, betraying that I’d offended her. “You don’t know me.”

  “I’ve tried to. Pretty much all I’ve been able to gather is you’re not exactly an open book. You’ve kept me at arm’s length since I’ve been here. Most of what I know about you I’ve heard from other people.”

  So then why am I falling for you? If you won’t even reveal yourself to me, how is it that something deep in me is so compelled by you?

  I pushed the questions away. They didn’t matter. Nothing would be happening between me and her.

  Her hands went down to her sides, curling into fists. “I just kissed you in my parents’ kitchen,” she hissed. “Is that keeping you at arm’s length?”

  “About that,” I said. “What was with the sudden change of heart?”

  “What’s with your sudden change of heart?”

  I pressed my lips together. Damn it. I’d backed myself right into the corner with that one.

  “Look,” I said. “Can we just agree to be friends?”

  Her body posture softened. “I don’t know…”

  “Why not?”

  She shrugged and looked away, gazing at a row of books. “You’re about to leave. We live in different cities. There’s really no point.”

  “I don’t know. Your parents seem to really like me. They might invite me back for next Thanksgiving.”

  I was half joking, but clearly she didn’t find the situation humorous. The sour face was back, and this time hotter than even before.

  “I don’t need any more friends,” she said. “And especially not one who’s so hard to figure out.”

  I let that sink in. Really, what was I doing? We would both be better off just ignoring each other until I left on Monday. So much damage had already been done thanks to a few short and hot interactions. Surely no real good could come from us trying to get to know each other.

  Though it was painful, I nodded. “You’re right.”

  She looked surprised. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” I ran a palm over my head and sighed. “I would probably be a shitty friend anyway. Ask Claire. Just working with me can be hell.”

  Gwen’s face softened. “She doesn’t talk about you like that.”

  “Really?”

  She shook her head. “No… granted, she did tell me some people have trouble with you. But Claire’s different. She’s really forgiving.”

  I laughed. “More forgiving than she should be.”

  Gwen giggled. “That’s what I always tell her.”

  I gazed down at her, noting the way the little tendrils of hair curled around her ears. It was time I left. The conversation was over, after all. A mutual decision to avoid each other had been reached.

  And yet my feet just wouldn’t move.

  Gwen reached up to the shelf nearest her and ran her finger along the edge of it. “Claire told me you’ve been having some stuff happen lately,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “So I understand if that makes dealing with people difficult. I know what it’s like.” Her voice caught on the last word. It sounded like she might cry, but her eyes were dry.

  I swallowed hard, hating just how well this woman was reading me. “You understand?”

  Looking at me, she softly nodded.

  “Thank you,” I rasped and she gave a stiff smile. I looked around, my hands clenching into fists inside my pockets. “I guess I should let you get back to work.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t even need to be here. There’s nothing for me to do other than get in the way.”

  “You’re sure the espresso machine isn’t going to break simply because that would be too ironic?”

  She laughed. “I hope not.”

  “So are you going back to your parents?”

  She hesitated. “I don’t know.”

  “Because of me.”

  Her eyes ran across my face, but she didn’t answer.

  I sighed heavily. “Damn it, Gwen. I’m sorry. I didn’t come here with the intent of hurting anyone or screwing up Christmas.”

  She nodded. “I know.” Removing her hand from the shelf, she rubbed her palms together. “You know, since I’m here, I think I probably will stay. Just to get things done.”

  “I thought you said there was nothing to do.”

  “I can find something There’s always something. I don’t want to waste time now that I’ve bothered coming here.”

  “What about your family?”

  “What about them?”

  I searched for the words, not wanting to be a jerk and bluntly call her out, but also not wanting to let the issue slide. “It’s almost Christmas. Your grandparents are here.”

  “I’m busy,” she said, her tone defensive again.

  I chortled. “You just said yourself that you don’t have to be here.”

  Her chest heaved as she took in a sharp breath. “You don’t know anything about my life,” she snapped. “And don’t tell me how to run my business.”

  Just like that, Pissed Off Gwen was back, and this time with real vengeance. I could feel the heat rising in me as well, mirroring hers.

  “I’m not trying to tell you how to run things,” I said through gritted teeth. “But I know a workaholic when I see one.”

  She reeled back like I’d slapped her. I felt bad, but I was also on a roll and couldn’t find the brakes.

  “I’ve spent countless hours at my office, working myself to death when I didn’t need to,” I said. “All so I wouldn’t have to think about what was going on in my life.”

  She watched me as I talked, her eyes wide and fiery. What I was telling her I’d never admitted to anyone, much less myself, so just talking about it was a revelation. Just like hookups were an escape, work was an escape. It was an awful way to live. Being that way could drive everyone in your life away. I would hate to see that happen to Gwen, especially when she was so young, with so many good years ahead of her.

  “Your grandparents and sister are down the street,” I said. “They’re here to see you, and you run away like their presence doesn’t even matter.”

  “I’m not running away from them,” she seethed. “I’m running away from you! You’re the one who came in and crashed my family’s Christmas! You’re the one who’s ruining everything, Jason!”

  Her words pierced like hot coals… because they were true.

  Dropping my head, I turned away from her. “You’re right.”

  She didn’t say anything.

  “I’ll leave in the morning. You don’t have to worry about me getting in the middle of your life anymore.”

  I turned and headed for the front of the shop, the rows of books blurring around me. Half of me wanted Gwen to stop me; to call my name and ask me to stay in Crystal Brook. The other half of me knew how selfish a desire that was. Just because I didn’t have a family didn’t mean I had any right to wiggle my way into someone else’s.

  I pushed the door open and let it slam behind me. The cold of the street pummeled my face and I walked faster, pushing my way into the wind.

  How could I have been so inconsiderate? I really had just swooped down on the Lawrences and taken what I wanted, even despite my efforts to not do that very thing.

  Now, there were two reasons for me to avoid Gwen. Not only did I have nothing to give, but I risked taking what little she had.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Gwen

  “And a medium sugar-free vanilla, half caf, two percent latte with raw sugar in it. Oh, and just half the syrup.”

  I clenched my teeth together and wrote the ridiculously lengthy order down on the paper cup so Kieran would know what to make.

  “Anything else today?” I asked the woman, forcing myself to smile as wide as I could.

&nbs
p; She shook her head and I gave her the price, still working to keep my lips turned up while swiping her card and handing her the receipt.

  It had been an awful night of nearly no sleep, and an even worse morning. I couldn’t concentrate worth shit. The only thing on my mind was Jason.

  Which was super ironic, since he was now gone.

  I tried not to beat myself up about it. After all, I hadn’t really done anything wrong, right?

  If that was the case, neither had he. In fact, maybe the problem was that the two of us were just too similar. According to him, he simply couldn’t get involved with women.

  So basically he was the male version of me. It was like we were floating around the ocean in the same tiny raft, suffering through lack of human interaction but being unwilling to shimmy our way to the middle of the raft so we could interact and finally end all the pain.

  At least that was the romanticized version I had painted. The truth was that anything — anything at all — happening between me and Jason Adler would invariably take me to the same place those kinds of things always did: a swirling black hole of pain.

  The woman left the counter and a familiar older man ambled up. I smiled at Henry, one of Freddy’s regulars since the day the shop first opened its doors.

  “How are you, Gwen?” he asked. “Are you taking some time off for Christmas?”

  “We’re closing early on Christmas Eve,” I told him. “And then we’ll open back up the day after Christmas.”

  “Good, good. Not too early, I hope. You need to take a break sometimes, you know.” He patted my hand and my heart warmed up. Getting to see my regulars each day was the best part of my job. Nothing could take that kind of happiness away from me — not even the pain over losing Jason before even getting to truly have him.

  “Your usual?” I asked Henry.

  “Yes, dear. Thank you.”

  I got Henry’s regular mug of black coffee, smiling at Kieran as I did so. Really, I had things good. I needed to remember that and focus on the present. Here is where I was, cheesy as it sounded. Jason was already in the past, on his way back to New York. The pain of the whole debacle was more than half done with. Now all I would have to deal with would be little shocks left over from his brief appearance in my life. Those I could deal with.

  Realizing that, much of the weight lifted off my soul, and I continued on with my morning, invigorated and hopeful.

  When the afternoon crew arrived, I headed out, thinking I might get a nap in before Danny’s play that night. I’d driven to work so I could spend each extra minute the night before getting some rest, with no luck. I’d only given myself time to roll out of bed, pull on some clothes, and go.

  I yawned when I pulled into my driveway, my head already feeling heavy. Not only did I need some rest, I was in desperate need of a shower as well.

  The place I rented was a cute little cottage just a few blocks past downtown. Someone had given it a lot of tender loving care before I moved in, painting the exterior a cheerful yellow and putting up a white picket fence around the front yard. When I’d moved in the year before, there were roses blooming along the front walk way and hummingbirds flitting around the feeder. The place was picture perfect, a great example of southern comfort and charm.

  And yet, for some reason, I couldn’t stand to be there.

  The cottage was the first place I’d lived alone in, and I’d thought multiple times about ditching it and just moving back in with my parents. Every time that idea came up, though, the other half of me that was fiercely attached to independence shot it down. I was twenty-seven years old. Just how long could I go living under my parents’ wing?

  Also, being with my parents each day wasn’t exactly all rainbows and baby unicorns. I’d been blessed with one of the most overbearing mothers on Earth, and hardly a week went by without me being reminded of that fact in some way or another.

  Thank God I’d never given her a key to my place. If she’d been able to let herself in and out of my house at a whim, I would have been done for.

  Parking my car, I went and checked the mailbox. It was half full, which made me feel foolish. On the short trips I did make home, I forgot to perform even the simplest of tasks.

  I should save money and just let this place go, I thought, trudging up to the front porch with the handful of junk mail.

  But where would I live? Sleeping on the couch at Freddy’s wasn’t exactly part of the lush life. And you couldn’t beat having somewhere to go with a shower. Maybe a roommate was a better idea.

  Or a cat.

  Certainly not a dog. They needed way more attention than I could give. Cats you could just feed and leave alone for ten hours, and they didn’t give a shit. Dogs were the polar opposite.

  Which was a shame, because I loved dogs. I hadn’t owned one since I was a kid, but I still harbored a dream of one day getting enough time in my life to take care of another one.

  I unlocked the door and went in, dropping my purse on the floor. The silence rang in the little living room, sad in a way I’d never noticed a quiet space could be.

  I pulled my boots off and undressed as I walked to the bathroom. Tossing the pile of coffee splattered garbs in the corner hamper, I turned the shower on as hot as I could stand it, then stepped under the spray.

  Closing my eyes, I let the thrumming of the drops on my body carry me away. It was just past noon, which meant I had over six hours till Danny’s play.

  For me, six free hours felt like a lifetime.

  At least I was able to go back to my parents’ house without being surrounded by temptation. What was Claire doing? Maybe she’d want to hang out and watch a movie before dinner.

  I thought briefly about what I would do if Claire wasn’t there. I didn’t have many friends in Crystal Brook besides the regulars at Freddy’s who, honestly, were a pretty poor substitute for girlfriends.

  Half of the people I’d gone to high school with had moved away and the other half had lives that just didn’t jive with my own. They had husbands and kids. I had a business. They were free for an hour here or there, in between nap times and Mom and Baby yoga. The occasions I had gotten lunch or coffee with those friends, I’d been disappointed to find everything was different. Not only had our lives taken us in various directions, but we’d changed as people as well.

  My stomach tightened. I grabbed the shampoo bottle, trying to shut down the next thought creeping up.

  Nope. Too late.

  I don’t have any friends. Not really.

  My regulars didn’t count. My employees half counted, but it wasn’t like I went out drinking with Kieran on the weekends. That would have been way too inappropriate.

  So who were my friends?

  “Ugh,” I said out loud, turning the water off. I yanked the shower curtain open a little too hard and the hook on the end came loose.

  How had it come to this?

  I thought back over the last year. The answer wasn’t too hard to find. I’d been so busy with the shop I hadn’t thought of giving my social life any attention. Not only that, but I hadn’t wanted to. I was afraid to.

  Originally, that fear had been all about men. After Mike, I felt broken, only half of the person I used to be. Seeing other men was impossible. That stifling of any romance leaked into every other aspect of my life. I’d become a hermit, unable to interact with any other person unless they came to me looking for a book or a latte. I hadn’t even known it was happening. Until now.

  Quickly drying myself off, I threw the towel in the hamper to join the dirty clothes. I padded down to my bedroom, conflicting desires rising in me. Five minutes of free time and already lots of shit I didn’t even want to think about was coming up.

  It had been almost two weeks since I’d done laundry, but I found a clean pair of skinny jeans and a black California t-shirt I’d gotten on our family trip there a few years back. Pulling them on, I grabbed socks and headed back for the hallway.

  My hair was still damp, but no matte
r. I was starving and pretty sure there was nothing in my fridge but a carton of eggs and some possibly spoiled yogurt. I would crank the heat in the car to get my hair dry while I drove to get a sandwich from my favorite cafe. After that, I would head straight for Freddy’s and check in on the situation there.

  Suddenly, being bone tired didn’t matter. There were things that were more painful than physical aches. Sleep would come in good time. Until then, I would suck it up, take a Tylenol, keep my head up high, and stay busy.

  *

  I stayed at the shop all afternoon, helping with customers and reorganizing the furniture in the sitting room. Several times, Jason’s words from the night before floated into the forefront of my mind.

  You run away like their presence doesn’t matter.

  He’d been talking about how I ignored my family.

  Was he right? Or had he just been saying such a hurtful thing to get to me? I knew I threw myself into my work; I knew I didn’t have a social life. But one of the reasons I was at Freddy’s so much was because I worried about the shop. I thought about it constantly, and not just when I was away from it during the day, doing a Costco run or buying fresh flowers to put in the window. Sometimes I woke up in my cottage with it on my mind, worried about someone breaking into it and making away with the safe.

  A few times, I’d actually woken up in my own bed then gone over to the shop to finish sleeping till morning. I knew that wasn’t normal behavior.

  On one of the occasions I was thinking about them, my grandparents came in, my father leading the way. I smiled and went over to them, hugging both Grandma and Grandpa.

  “Oh, Gwen,” Grandma said. “It’s lovely in here. Did you paint those yourself?”

  I laughed at the abstracts on the wall she was gazing at. “No. They’re just here for a few weeks. Every month we have a new artist up.”

  “Ooh,” she cooed.

  I gave them the short tour of both the coffee and books section, then made them each my favorite drink, an adjusted macchiato. I put a packet of sugar into the espresso cups, then pulled a double shot over each, letting the sugar get soft. Then I topped the espresso off with a dollop of frothed milk and a sprinkling of cocoa powder.