Just Look Up
Page 25
She touched her face, aware of her fingers on her skin, thankful that the numbness had subsided. There was no trace of that debilitating headache either, only the growl of a ravenous stomach.
She vaguely remembered staggering to the bathroom in the darkness last night, but other than that, it had been the most restful sleep she’d had in months, possibly years. As if the frantic pace of her life had finally caught up with her, rendering her completely useless until she caught up on her sleep.
As she stood, the memory of her conversation with Marshall poked at her. She’d been rash and impulsive—maybe even emotional, which wasn’t like her. She rubbed her temples and stumbled toward the kitchen. She’d scrounge up something to eat and then she’d face the day.
Though what would she do without a job?
“Well, look who’s up.”
She gasped. She’d thought she was alone, but one look at her sofa told her otherwise. Ryan sat next to a pile of folded blankets and a pillow, Otis on his lap and the remote in his hand.
“You’re still here?” Why didn’t I look in the mirror before I walked in here?
“Yes, and I feel so welcome. You’ve been a great host.” He picked Otis up and set him on the floor, and the traitor stuck right by his feet.
“You’ve put a spell on my dog.” Lane couldn’t remember the last time she’d walked into a room and Otis didn’t come running.
“We’ve bonded the last couple days.”
She frowned. “Couple days?”
“You’ve been asleep since Monday afternoon.”
“What? What day is it today?” Where was her phone? How much had she missed?
“It’s about ten in the morning on Wednesday.” Ryan followed her into the kitchen. “And I hid your phone.”
She spun around and faced him. “Why would you do that?”
“The doctor said you have to make some changes. Figured that was a good one to start with.”
Her heart sped up. She needed her phone. She’d slept Tuesday away—she needed to know what had happened.
Yet, without a job, what could she possibly have missed?
Ryan opened the refrigerator, and to her surprise, there was food in it. Fruit and vegetables and almond milk and juice.
“What’s all that?”
“Those are called groceries.” He tossed a grin over his shoulder.
“Almond milk?”
“You said you were lactose intolerant.”
Did he listen to everything she said?
“Sit down. I’m going to make you something to eat.”
“You really don’t have to do this, Brooks.”
He pulled a carton of eggs from the fridge, along with a green pepper and an onion. “Someone has to take care of you, Lane. And if you’re not going to do it, then I am.”
She searched for an argument, but nothing came. Ryan moved around the kitchen like he knew it—finding and using utensils she didn’t realize she had.
“I’m making you an omelet.” He cracked an egg into a small glass bowl. “It’s been days since you actually ate.”
“Where did all this food come from?”
He cracked another egg. “They have these things called grocery stores. Even here in Chicago.” One more egg. “You do eat eggs, right? I figured those were probably in your rule book.”
She didn’t respond to his comment or his smirk. As he poured the eggs into a small pan, she took the briefest moment to admire the way his blue T-shirt showed his defined muscles. He had the physique of a man who cared about his body, though his comfortable, disheveled style might suggest otherwise.
“You like having me in your kitchen.” He leaned against the counter, facing her, that grin on his face. She’d been staring, her brief moment of admiration for his form turning into several long moments, which he’d clearly noticed.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” she said. “I’m just hungry.”
“Well, sit down.”
She did as she was told, watching as Otis hung close to Ryan, who tossed more than one treat at the lucky dog.
“I don’t give him that many treats.”
“That’s why he was so easy to win over.” Ryan tossed another dog treat to Otis.
“He’s going to get fat.”
Ryan picked up the pan and flipped the omelet without a spatula.
“Are you showing off?”
He set the pan back down on the burner. “Is it working?”
“We’ll see how it tastes.”
A few minutes later, he set a plate in front of her with an omelet, a side of fruit, and a glass of juice. He sat across from her, an expectant look on his face. She stared at the plate, then the man across from her, and an inexplicable wave of emotion rolled through her.
She didn’t want a man to take care of her. She could take care of herself. She always had. She couldn’t stop now.
And yet, being taken care of was . . . nice.
“Are you okay?”
Her eyes had clouded over, and she now sat there, wondering how to explain to him that she’d never eaten a meal at this table with another person. It hadn’t bothered her before, but his presence—his goodness—set something off inside her. Quietly she slid her plate closer, blinked away tears, and said, “Everything is perfect.”
She ate under his observant eye, certain he wasn’t going to let her move until she’d finished every last bite.
“You must be starving,” he said.
She was. So hungry. “This is really good, thank you. Nobody has ever cooked me breakfast before.”
Otis nestled himself at Ryan’s feet, and they sat a few moments in silence.
“Chloe came by a couple times.”
She tried to listen, but mostly she was thinking she liked the way he looked in her apartment, like he’d been carved to fit perfectly in her space. She pushed the food around on her plate, reminding herself that this was dangerous territory she found herself in. She had to keep her wits about her or she’d get lost in his green eyes.
When had Ryan Brooks become so wonderful?
She glanced up at him, watching her. Maybe he’d always been wonderful and she just never noticed it before.
“She said you quit your job.” He studied her, maybe waiting for some reaction, but she had none. She should probably feel panicked or worried, but she didn’t, as if for the first time in her entire adult life she’d done something truly remarkable.
“I guess I did.” She took another bite.
“How are you feeling about that now, after two days of sleep?”
She shrugged. “I feel fine.”
By the look on his face, he wasn’t buying it. And why should he? She’d lived for this job since she graduated college. She’d given everything to it, thinking that unlike Jasper or Lindsay, this career did not have the power to hurt her. She’d counted on it.
But it had hurt her, hadn’t it? All the times she’d been passed over. Hearing Marshall admit he dangled that promotion in front of her because she did better work when there was something on the line . . . it stung. And now it was gone. She didn’t even know who she was without her job.
“So what now?” He settled into his chair as if he wasn’t going anywhere until they had this conversation. She wasn’t accustomed to conversation with her meals.
“I guess I’ll have to find a new job.” Well, that was weird. She hadn’t really thought about it, but she needed to do something for an income.
“Right away?”
She met his eyes. “What are you getting at?”
“I have an idea.”
She set her fork down. “And you’ve had two straight days to think about it.”
He smiled. His face showed excitement as though he’d been waiting to tell her a secret and, at last, here she was. She had to look away. She didn’t like the way his smile stirred up her feelings, feelings she hadn’t experienced in years.
“Why are you still here, anyway? What about Cedar Grove? You have a deadl
ine.” She finally dared another glance in his direction.
“I have a great team,” he told her. “They’re very competent.”
She still felt bad. He should be there, working on this huge project—not sitting in her apartment babysitting her while she slept. “Okay, what’s your idea?”
“Come back to Harbor Pointe with me.”
“No.”
“That’s it? You’re not even going to think about it?”
“My last trip to Harbor Pointe was probably what caused all this in the first place. I’m not at my best when I’m there.” She didn’t like the reminders, the memories. She didn’t like watching everyone seamlessly float into each other’s lives while she was anchored on the edges of it all like she had bricks in her shoes. She had never fit in there, and that hadn’t changed. Last week proved it.
He leaned toward her, his hands dangerously close to hers. “I don’t think that’s true.”
Did he know the whole truth about Lindsay and Jasper? Did he know she’d gone to Harbor Pointe on their wedding day and, hidden in her car a safe distance away, watched them leave the church? Did he know that Jasper had turned out to be nothing like the man she thought he was and that Lindsay had betrayed her in the worst possible way? Did he realize the pain of their betrayal still influenced nearly every decision she made?
She didn’t want him to know. She didn’t want anyone to know that the man she’d loved so loyally didn’t choose her. If people found that out—if Ryan found that out—then he wouldn’t choose her either.
The thought surprised and upset her all at once. She didn’t want Ryan Brooks to choose her. What was she thinking?
Although . . . she met his eyes. “I’m sure someone told you what happened.”
“I don’t know the whole story.” His gaze was still intent on her. “But I think I’ve put most of the pieces together.”
There were those clouds in her eyes again, darn it. She did not want to cry over this. She had never cried over this—why was the pain of it just now resurfacing? Why was his kindness bringing out something in her she couldn’t wrap her head around? Was it so unfamiliar for someone to treat her this way that she’d grown to view kindness as a rare, priceless gift? Unlike Marshall, Ryan needed nothing from her.
He was solely focused on what she needed, and she didn’t know how to feel about that.
“I saw how you reacted when Jasper was at the hospital. And how hard it was to be at their house.”
She needed to be logical, not emotional. “I don’t want to talk about it.” She’d been through it all in therapy, with someone who wasn’t really a part of her life. That was enough.
“But maybe you should.”
“What do you want me to say? Do you want me to tell you that I gave him everything and he broke my heart? That I couldn’t have predicted what happened in a million years but feel like I should’ve seen it coming? That every person I meet isn’t a potential friend—they’re just someone else I refuse to get close to because I never want to feel that way again?”
“Lane, it was awful. I get it.”
“Do you, though? She’s my sister, Brooks. He didn’t just break my heart; he took my sister.” A knot caught in her throat as the words hung in the air. Words that surprised even her. All this time, she thought she’d been grieving the loss of her fiancé, but was it possible she’d really been grieving the loss of a sister she’d always hoped would become her best friend?
He was watching her; she could feel it. “I’m so sorry.”
A tear streamed down her cheek and she quickly wiped it away. She would not cry over this.
“I can’t imagine what you went through.”
Thoughts turned to those days leading up to their wedding—the wedding that should’ve been hers. She’d thrown herself into work, but every night she came home—alone—and forced herself not to cry. So long she’d been holding this in, and now, in the wake of Ryan’s kindness, her resolve had come undone.
She covered her face with her hands, unable to keep the unwanted tears locked away for one minute longer.
Nobody had comforted her during that time—not because they hadn’t tried, but because she wouldn’t let them. Even Nate, with his surefire methods of distracting her, eventually came up short. The pain was just too deep. She’d been hurt too many times and decided relationships weren’t worth the pain.
Looking at Ryan, she wondered for the first time if her logic had been faulty. But the thought of reliving that pain terrified her.
He sat unmoving. “He’s lucky I wasn’t here when that happened.”
She laughed through her tears, thankful for the release of emotions that had built up behind her wall. “I have three brothers, remember?”
“Didn’t they defend you?”
She shrugged. “Maybe. I didn’t stick around long enough to find out. By the time they got married, I think my family had decided not to choose sides—well, except for Nate. He boycotted the wedding with me.” She smiled, though the memory still hurt her—the lack of support from the rest of her family. “But I took their not choosing as a choice, I guess.”
“I think there was a lot more to it than you realized.”
She wiped her cheeks dry. “What do you mean?”
“Something changed. I knew it the second I got home from overseas. Nobody would talk about it for a long time, and once I had an idea of what had happened, I kind of hated Jasper because he didn’t seem to care.”
“Sounds like Jasper.”
“I think they’re all still grieving that there’s this broken piece of their family.”
Lane didn’t respond. She found it hard to believe that anyone was grieving over the loss of her.
“Look, all I’m saying is that you’ve got something really great—you just don’t realize it. I don’t want you to throw away everything good with the bad.”
She eyed him. “Tell me what’s good about Harbor Pointe, about me being in Harbor Pointe.”
“Well, for starters, you would be with me.”
She let out another quick laugh. “You’re something else, you know that?”
He leaned back. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”
“Brooks, I can’t build my career in Harbor Pointe.”
“Well, maybe you should hold off on that search for a few weeks.”
“I can’t; I—”
“Just hear me out,” he cut in. “You come with me and help me decorate my cottages. I’ll pay you for your time. While you’re there, you get more rest than you would if you were here, you can visit your brother, and I can make sure you’re eating every day.”
She pulled her legs underneath her on the chair. “It’s a nice thought, but living in my parents’ house could very well land me right back in the emergency room.”
“Is it the cows?”
She laughed again. “It’s everything. The constant stream of people. The noise. And yeah, maybe the cows.” She finished her last bite and took a drink. “In a way, I always felt like a guest there, even as a kid.”
He looked at her like he didn’t understand.
And it was stupid. If her family hadn’t had their open-door policy, she and Ryan never would’ve known each other in the first place. She was happy for what her parents were able to do for him and Hailey—she didn’t begrudge them one moment of happiness given what their home life must’ve been like. “You wouldn’t understand. You always fit in seamlessly, like you were born to be a part of my crazy family.”
“I’ve thought that before too.”
She stilled. She couldn’t wish that things had been different for her—because if they had, they would’ve been different for him.
“Your family loves you, Lane.”
The words hung there, right on the edge of the bubble around her, and she refused to let them penetrate her heart. She didn’t believe it, and she wasn’t going to pretend for a moment she belonged with people who had betrayed her the way they did.
She shook her head. “I’ve made peace with all of this. We don’t need to talk about it.” She stood and walked to the coffeemaker—mostly to get out from under his attentive eye—but he followed her over and reached for her mug.
When she turned toward him, she realized he was dangerously close, and they were both holding her mug.
“I can pour my own coffee,” she said into his chest, not daring to meet his eyes.
“You might have to get used to letting other people help you.” His nearness stirred something in her that she wasn’t willing to feel, and he showed no signs of backing away. “Come with me, Lane. You can stay in one of the cottages at Cedar Grove. You can rest. Maybe remember who you are.”
“I know who I am, thank you.” She gave him a soft smile. “I’m a really amazing interior designer, and I—”
“That’s not who you are, Lane. That’s what you do.”
She edged away but felt the counter against her back. She didn’t understand. What she did was who she was. “It’s a really bad idea.”
He inched the mug away from her, and she glanced up. His eyes were full of her—had anyone ever looked at her the way he was looking at her now? Like she was something special, something to be treasured? She could see how much he wanted to take care of her, to protect her.
But letting him in was only going to end in heartache.
Why, then, did she hear herself say, “Fine. I’ll come back with you”?
His eyes lit and his face spread into a victorious smile. “You will?”
“On one condition.”
“Name it.”
“You have to let me get my own coffee.”
His gaze fell from her eyes to her lips, then back. Slowly he handed her the mug and took a step away, leaving her dizzy and wondering why her heart seemed intent on betraying her.
CHAPTER
27
“OH, I HAVE ONE MORE STIPULATION,” Lane said as she wheeled her suitcase out from her bedroom, a second bag hanging over her shoulder.