by Anna Sugden
“Come on.” She pulled off her shoes, then her socks and stuffed them into her shoes. Screw work and impulse control. She was going to splash in the damn stream.
CHAPTER NINE
WES...DID NOT know what was happening. Maybe the world had spun off its axis, and this was an alternate universe where he asked people how they were doing and felt compelled to take his shoes off and follow Cara into a creek.
Because this was not...him. In the least. He didn’t do impulsive things, and he didn’t...ask women about...things. Without even stuttering.
And he most certainly didn’t allow himself to think about what kind of rewards she might be looking for.
Figure of speech. Move along, idiot.
“Come on, Wes. Live a little.”
He’d lived plenty, and he meant to say that, too. Except somehow his fingers were at the laces of his boots. What was the harm of walking through the creek with her?
He couldn’t embarrass himself here. If he kept his mouth shut, his responses grumpy at best, they’d have a nice little walk, and that was it. There was something nice about these lunch breaks with her.
He didn’t have a lot of nice interaction. Surely he could handle this. Cara made it a lot simpler than most people, even when she complicated things.
Before he knew it, his shoes were off. Because Cara was splashing like a kid in the creek, and the dogs were yapping around her—Monster and Flash enjoying the water, the rest of the dogs barking restlessly from the banks.
Franco jumped in as if he couldn’t stand to be parted from his partner in crime, and Wes took a step toward the bank—feeling much the same. She was like those sea creatures that lured sailors to their deaths.
“Why are we doing this?”
She grinned, and though she wasn’t wearing any color, that smile somehow brightened everything around her and reflected in her eyes. “Why not, Wes? Why. Not?” She crossed to the bank he was standing on, grabbed his hands and tugged.
He could have stayed where he was. But...he found himself being pulled.
He made a not quite manly sound as his feet sank into the cold water, and she laughed. The cloud that she’d been shrouding herself in seemed to have lifted. She was smiling and bright again.
He wanted to say something about not thinking his problems were worse, necessarily. They were, truthfully, but it didn’t mean she couldn’t have the same feelings. He wanted to find some way to explain that.
But words were not his strong suit.
She hopped up on a fallen log, holding her arms out as if she were walking a balance beam. The sun filtered through the trees, teased out the red in her hair, and she glowed.
Whatever had been bothering her was washed away by fresh air or fresh water or both.
He’d felt that before. Not quite as joyously or effervescently as Cara, but it was amazing what a walk in the woods could do for a heavy soul.
He was drawn to it and her, and his mind didn’t even have the decency to kick on and be scared—none of the usual insecurity, none of those old voices. He just...moved toward her. Until he was close enough to her his knees brushed soggy bark off the log she stood on.
Putting him eye level with her chest when she turned to face him, and only a few inches away. The normal boss-to-employee space ratio was much...wider.
He shaded his eyes against the sun and looked up to find her gaze on him, something considering in the angle of her cocked head.
She slid off the log, so now they were legitimately too close. Her toes were on top of his. Their thighs touched, her chest was most definitely pressed to his, and her mouth was right there.
His heart thudded heavily in his chest, and his throat seemed to close. The brain that had been pleasantly unaffected before went into its normal hyperdrive. Idiot. Loser. Weirdo. He tried to find some center of calm. So they were close? She didn’t mean anything by it. He wasn’t going to panic. Something about being around Cara was...not as bad as it was with other people.
What is wrong with you?
No. This was fine. Because he was just...beyond it. Women weren’t ever going to be a thing for him. He didn’t need to freak out, because there was no possibility here.
It was all an accident, he decided. He managed to clear his throat and forced himself to speak. “I don’t know...what you want from me.” He wasn’t sure he’d ever admitted that aloud to anyone before, even though it was always in the back of his mind. What did the person he was talking to want him to be?
If he could only find out, then he wouldn’t have to be afraid of ridicule or sympathy or need. That’s why the army had worked. Why couldn’t Cara be like the army?
Was it his imagination her mouth was getting closer?
“You could kiss me.”
Any of the dazzle or sparkle, or whatever it was that emanated off her, dimmed, disappeared. The magnet that had kept him from moving away from her lost its strength. This was outside the safe zone, and as much as he’d like not to make everything inside him seize up, even Cara didn’t have that kind of magic.
For a second he thought she might. He cleared his throat again, taking a careful step away. “I cannot kiss you.” Look at him being all firm and decisive. Not a stumble of words.
This was progress. Growth. So why did it feel like the same old running away shit?
“Why not?”
“Because.” His steps away weren’t careful anymore, because the panic was building. It was becoming that bigger thing he couldn’t control, and since he hadn’t kissed her, he was damn well not going to let the panic win. He stalked to the rock and his socks and boots.
But she followed. “Married?” she asked, still so...light and easy and wonderful. Not for you. Light and easy and wonderful will never be for you.
“No.” His head pounded. His heart pounded. Everything in him was on a narrow path to panic. Talking to her, working with her, it might not make him have all those old feelings, but the thought of kissing her did.
He’d do it wrong.
She would laugh. Or, barring that, she would pity him, which was equally as bad. Laughing made him want to disappear, and pity made him want to rage.
No, he couldn’t kiss her. Whatever Cara thought of him was some false impression. The mask of grumpy, bearded man. It worked on the surface, but it didn’t work when you added this to the mix. He laced his boots with extra force.
He couldn’t do it.
“You’re heartbroken and in love with someone else? Although, really, you could still kiss me. I hear I’m good for that kind of—”
“No, Cara. No. I can’t.”
She smiled. “You can’t kiss me. So, technically speaking, I could kiss you.”
Don’t look at her.
“You don’t want to do that. Trust me.” He grabbed the little bag of trash and whistled for the dogs. “Forget it. L-let it go.” Hey, only one stutter. An accomplishment.
See? He was getting better. He might never have sex with a woman, but at least he’d learned how to extricate himself from meltdown embarrassment before it happened.
Gold star for him. Goody.
* * *
CARA SLOWLY LACED her shoes, double-checked to make sure there hadn’t been any trash left behind. Mostly she was giving Wes some space, and herself some space, at that.
It certainly wasn’t the first time she’d been the one to initiate a flirtation with a guy and suggested a kiss, but it was the first time she’d been rejected.
She wasn’t oblivious enough to think this had something to do with her. I can’t. He hadn’t rejected the idea there was attraction buzzing between them. He hadn’t stepped away when she’d first dropped from the log to all but press against him.
No, some part of him had wanted that. Whatever thing kept him from taking it had little to nothing to do with her.
She blew out a breath and took her time walking back to the cabin. She’d had a brief flash of...peace. Her life not fitting her didn’t matter, because she was
splashing in a creek with dogs and Wes, and he had looked at her like...
Even with him long gone, the feeling swept over her again. Like she was the center of something good and useful. Like she wasn’t just easy Cara, but elemental. Important.
She stopped in the middle of the expansive yard around Wes’s little cabin. She had never felt that before. Not even when she was helping Mia. This wasn’t help, it was...
What does it matter? The man won’t—can’t kiss you.
And she wasn’t in a good space for that kind of thing, anyway. Moping around in her ugly clothes and laying all sorts of extra baggage on a guy who had way bigger baggage. Way, way bigger.
So.
So?
There was nothing to do but go inside, get her work done and stop this feelings nonsense. Sure, it might be irresistibly amazing in the present, but it was sure to only bring pain and hurt in the future. Bracing herself, she walked casually back into the cabin. Wes stood over his treats on the counter, focusing on getting them into the oven. She gave Phantom a pat as she passed, but she didn’t say anything to Wes. Best they pretended these moments that transpired between them didn’t exist.
Best she leave it alone. What else could she do? Push? Fail? Be same old Cara? No, and Mia or Wes pushing her into pushing was...done. Because she was left with this feeling that her life didn’t fit. She needed to go back to skating by.
She reentered the office section, which was looking decidedly less like a disaster, though not completely fixed. She still had work to do, and this was work she could do. Organizing and naming silly dog treats. This did not require any special...thing she couldn’t be.
She threw herself into it wholeheartedly. So much so, she didn’t even notice when the room glowed orange.
“Cara.”
She started, looking up to Wes looming in the doorway, scowling.
“It’s five-thirty,” he offered.
“Oh.” She glanced around, realized the room was glowing from the sun setting outside the window. “I...lost track of time.”
“I can see that. I think you’ve worked miracles.”
“Organizing isn’t a miracle.”
“It is for some of us.”
You aren’t doing this again. He can look at you like that for hours, but you aren’t going to throw yourself at him. Because you have some self-respect. Oh, if only her heart and her brain could get on the same damn page. Always the problem. Her brain did have sense, but her heart always hoped, always ended up hurt and she always struggled to patch it back together. She had no fortitude.
She had to get out of here. “I’ll be a half-hour late on Wednesday, then.”
He inclined his chin, some half approximation of a nod.
She began to collect her things, glanced at the calendar she’d made up for him. She tapped Tuesday with her finger, not wanting him to forget. “Good luck at your doctor’s appointment tomorrow.”
It was silly to think the room’s temperature dropped a degree, but she supposed if he could control that, he would. And freezing her out would be exactly what he’d do.
Still, she thought of him calling himself malfunctioning, and she couldn’t quite be blasé about it.
“If you need anything—”
“I won’t.”
She shook her head. What a lie. Of course he needed something, someone, but she had the presence of mind to know that the something, the someone was not her.
“I’ll see you Wednesday.” She clipped on Sweetness’s leash, grabbed her bag and made sure to make eye contact as she offered him a friendly smile. She would not let the moment at the creek make things weird.
“Thank you,” he said, his voice barely above a grumble. “For your work.”
She quirked an eyebrow, very much doubtful that’s what he was thanking her for. But, if that’s how things were going to be, well, that’s how things were going to be. She was not going to make any more mistakes with him.
She sure as hell hoped.
CHAPTER TEN
WES HAD TO focus to not grind his teeth as the doctor explained the procedure. Another damn surgery.
“It’s not terribly invasive, but it will decrease your mobility for a bit. It could alleviate the worst of the symptoms, though.”
The worst of the symptoms. Could alleviate. Not words he wanted to hear. He wanted to hear fixed and good as new and normal.
“Here’s your paperwork. You’ll want to call to schedule soon. Since it’s not a pressing issue, the wait time can be months out.”
“Fantastic.” He clutched the paperwork and stood, the pain of a headache digging deeper, sharper. “I’m running late for an appointment. I need to go.” He gestured at the door.
The pretty doctor looked at him sympathetically, nodding. “Of course.”
He turned away, so tired of pitying nods and looks today he could... Well, that was the problem. He didn’t know what to do.
Except go home. Go home far away from pity and concern and bad news. Even when he was screwing things up with Cara, there wasn’t pity.
But Cara wasn’t there. The only thing that waited were animals and... Mom’s call. His gut clenched. No. He couldn’t deal with that tonight.
He left the doctor’s office, making sure to avoid the hospital section. The migraine sliced behind his right eye, but he forced himself to focus on his phone and type a text to Mom.
Not going to be home till late. Will talk next week.
He walked to his truck, and as he reached for the handle, a sharp pain shot down his arm. He cocked his good arm as if to punch the truck. Maybe kick it. Maybe beat it till he was bloody, but a little old lady with a walker was shuffling past him.
So, he took a deep breath and opened the door and hefted himself into the driver’s seat. He grabbed the bottle of aspirin off the console and the lukewarm bottle of water from the cup holder. It wouldn’t kill the migraine or end the arm pain, but it would dull everything enough to get home.
He glanced at his phone and saw the little icon that showed Mom was typing a response. The weight of the lie was nothing new. He couldn’t remember a time where he hadn’t had to tell lies. No, I’m not hungry. No, school is fine.
I don’t need help.
He rested his forehead on the steering wheel and tried to fight off the memories, but they were all there. As a kid, he’d tried to find a way not to get bullied, so at least that wouldn’t be a lie. He’d tried to find somewhere to belong. But as the poorest kid in school, riddled with anxiety, he’d been such an easy target.
The lie to Cara was so similar. Trying to spare her feelings, because he’d only ever hurt his mother’s. Even when he’d tried so hard to avoid it.
Wes sat up straight and maneuvered out of the hospital parking lot. His head hurt, and he was nauseous. He needed something to eat. He didn’t handle all those old memories as well on an empty stomach. He’d been anxious all day about the appointment and had barely forced down a bowl of cereal this morning. That was practically eight hours ago.
He didn’t feel like cooking or going to a drive-through, but real restaurants meant sitting down surrounded by normal people with normal functioning parts. Maybe he could pick up some carryout from Moonrise. Might take him enough time so he wouldn’t feel 100 percent guilty about missing Mom’s call. And it would help with the headache, too.
His phone chimed, but he ignored it as he drove from the sprawling suburban city of Millertown back toward New Benton’s tiny epicenter. Moonrise was an old diner frequented by locals. Usually he avoided it, but they had the best hamburgers around, so once every few months he’d stop in for some carryout.
Waiting with his head down and phone out usually kept anyone from talking to him. Besides, if he didn’t deserve a decent meal today, what day did he? And if he didn’t get a hold of his swirling emotions before he got home, he’d lose it altogether. He pulled the truck into a spot at Moonrise. It was early enough the dinner crowd wasn’t overwhelming. Wes pushed into Park an
d finally looked at his phone and the message from Mom.
Sure, honey. Plans with friends?
Wes walked into the diner. Well, he was going to take the food home and eat on the porch with the dogs, so, yes?
That would be lying to your mother. Dick move. He stepped up to the counter and ordered the same meal he’d always gotten at Moonrise. A double cheeseburger and fries. It still felt like a luxury, all these years later. Going out to eat. Having the money to pay for whatever he wanted, not just something off the McDonald’s dollar menu on a special occasion.
He tried to focus on that, that they’d both come a long way from a birthday meal of French fries. There was accomplishment in that, there should be pride in that.
He glanced at his phone again, trying to determine how to answer Mom. But then someone called his name. He glanced up at Cara grinning and waving at him from a seat at the far end of the counter.
Cara. Was she...everywhere? He should turn around and walk away. Pretend he hadn’t seen her, but the thing he should do around her never seemed to happen until he was forced into it.
Still, he’d use her to make his lie the truth. Stiffly moving toward her, he typed the message into his phone. Yup. Dinner with friends.
“Hey,” Cara greeted him as if yesterday’s...moment had never happened. “I didn’t know you ever left your hermitage.”
“I don’t. Usually.”
She glanced down at his arm, presumably because she remembered it was doctor’s appointment day. That she’d offered her help and he’d shut her down.
“Sit down.” She patted the chair next to her. “Eat with me. I was keeping Mallory company before the dinner rush.” She gestured to the waitress behind the counter.
“I ordered some to take home. The dogs have been shut up for too long.”
“Oh, right.” She looked down at his arm again. A brief glance before she seemed to catch herself. “Anyway—”
“Wes? Wes Stone?”
He didn’t recognize the voice, but as soon as he looked at the woman approaching, the pain in his head that had dulled to a tolerable ache went full-throttle throb.