“He won’t.” I don’t know what makes me say it, and I’m almost sorry once the words are out.
We sit in silence and stare at one another for a few moments.
“How are you?” he asks.
“You want the deep answer, don’t you?” I’m not sure why I even bother asking.
“Yeah.” He nods, and scratches his head through short, brown hair.
“I was actually really good until I came here.” I tighten my crossed legs.
“Do you wish you’d stayed away?” He sits on the foot of the bed.
“No.” I let out a breath. “I mean, it’s been long enough that I know it’s getting better, and even though I’ve sort of slid back in how much it all hurts, I know it won’t get worse than this. I’m a ‘go face to face with your fears’ kind of girl, you know.”
He stares at his hands. “I feel so responsible.”
“Brady.” I half jump forward to touch his shoulder. “He wanted to do the trip. He begged you to go. Rafting was his thing.”
Brady nods. “But I was there, Norah. I watched his raft flip over. Helped them pull him out of the water, and he looked fine. I’m mean, he looked totally fine, but . . .”
He sucks in a deep breath, which is guy-speak for I want to cry, but refuse to. I scoot forward and rest the side of my head on his broad shoulder. “I’m sorry you were there, but I’m also glad. I’d rather know he died doing something he loved than in a stupid car accident, or of a heart attack, or any one of a million ways he could have gone.”
He pulls in a few more deep breaths. “I guess I figured you didn’t want to see me. You never called. I thought you hated me.”
“I didn’t want to push it. You. If you needed time, I wanted to give it to you.” And I wanted time, too. Because even though logically I knew it wasn’t Brady’s fault—he was there. The connection felt too close. And the way they look, move and smell . . . The brothers are so much the same.
“Sorry, Norah.” He pulls me into a hug, only there’s two ways to hug someone. One is where you keep your hands on the upper part of their back, like for friends and family. Brady’s doing the other kind of hug—the kind that puts his hands lower on my back than I want.
Our faces are close. Too close.
I push away from him and back to my place against the wall. “Thanks for coming in to talk,” I say.
He looks dazed, confused—his eyes dart around on the bedspread between us. Did he hug me like that on purpose? On accident?
“Night.”
“Good night.” I start to pull myself under the blankets, once again sort of resigned to not sleeping.
Brady stands.
Creak.
And my heart breaks a little more.
He opens the door, and Collin’s frame fills the doorway.
This is nothing but awkward. Collin’s eyes go between me and Brady a few times. Brady’s eyes take in Collin, and then he glances over his shoulder at me.
“Night you two.” I slide down further in my bed, wanting nothing more than to hide.
“I was just walking up the hall,” Collin starts. “You opened the door and scared me.”
No one’s buying that. He was facing my door.
Oh well. It’s done now.
His eyes catch mine briefly as Brady closes the door behind him.
My heart’s beating hard, this is just . . . not good. And why couldn’t Collin have made it in here first? But if he’d been in here when Brady knocked? Well, I guess that wouldn’t have been good either.
But now I want to know what they’re talking about, so I scoot off the bed and listen.
“What were you doing?” Brady asks.
“I was just going to check on her. She seemed a bit down this morning,” Collin says.
“Yeah. You two were gone for a long time.” Brady’s voice has what I’m pretty sure is a jealous edge.
“We wandered the bookstore. Separately,” he adds in a rush.
“Well, I checked on her, and she’s fine.” Yep. There’s definitely an edge to Brady’s voice, and now I feel like I’m being suffocated for a whole different reason.
Collin obviously feels uncomfortable for whatever did or didn’t pass between us earlier today. Brady’s not happy about the fact that we spent time together, and he sounds almost defensive, protective.
Half of me wants out of this room just to feel like I’m getting some sort of escape, but escaping out there probably isn’t the best idea.
I flick off the lamp and close my eyes, willing myself to go to sleep.
Hours later, I give up. My room’s been too hot, too cold, too like Jacob. I shove the blankets off me and start for the door. The house has been quiet for hours, but I still pause and listen, just to make sure I’ll be alone.
My feet are silent as I tip-toe down the stairs, keeping to the left because I know there are less creaks on that side. Maybe some tea will relax me into sleep. There’s soft light coming from the kitchen as I hit the bottom of the stairs, and it takes all my willpower not to let out an exasperated sigh. Who on earth is up, and should I even check to see or just go back upstairs?
I step closer to the kitchen, creeping like I did when I was girl and wanted to overhear my parents’ conversations. Maybe I’ll be able to see who it is without them seeing me. Just before I peek around the corner, I realize I’m hoping for Collin.
He’s the only neutral party here. That’s why I want it to be him. That’s it. That’s all. The nerves of anticipation tell me otherwise, but I’m still trying to convince myself that I want it to be him, just so I won’t have to deal with the family. I peer around the corner and it is Collin. His fingers are flying across the keyboard, and he’s completely lost in what he’s doing.
I lean against the doorframe suddenly relaxed and wishing I had my camera. I love studying people’s faces when they don’t know I’m watching. The problem with doing portrait photography is that I rarely get a chance.
His fingers come to a sudden halt, and his eyes catch mine over the top of his computer.
“Sorry,” I whisper. “Couldn’t sleep.”
He looks both ways, which is sort of funny because who else isn’t sleeping tonight?
“You okay?” I step into the kitchen.
“Yeah, I just. I mean, I don’t want to create any tension here.” He glances at his lap before meeting my eyes again.
Right. Maybe this is even more awkward for him than it is for me. Although, mostly what that means to me is that he might be feeling some of the same things. And that brings a warm excitement that I definitely wasn’t expecting.
“Brady’s carrying around a lot, and he’s always been a bit stubborn and thinks he knows everything.” Wait. I press my fingers to my forehead, like it’ll magically help me think of the right thing to say. “Okay, that sounded mean. I don’t want it to sound mean, it’s one of the things I love about him, but . . .”
“So, you and Brady.” He pauses for a moment. “You two are—”
I nearly jump at his conclusion. “No. No way. Definitely not. He’s like the annoying younger brother, you know?” I have never felt anything like that kind of connection with Brady. Ever.
“I’m not sure he sees you that way.”
Yeah. I’m not sure either. “Well, that’s how I see him.”
“And is that all that matters?” His question is simple, but hits deep.
I slump. “No. I guess not.” Because as much as I’ll never feel that for Brady, there’s no doubt after the way he hugged me tonight that he’s confused. I’m sure that’s all it is though, confusion.
Collin’s eyes go back to his computer.
This should be simple. I find Collin interesting. I want to know more about him, but maybe he doesn’t feel that same way. He just split with someone. Maybe he’s completely unavailable. Maybe we need to be friends.
I can be friends.
But when I open my mouth to speak, there’s nothing there. I really want to know wh
at he’s working on.
“You okay? You’re sort of making me self-conscious here.” He smiles that crazy awesome crooked smile again.
“Sorry. You’re so involved. I love it when I’m that immersed in something, and so I guess part of me enjoys being in the company of people who aren’t afraid to throw themselves into a project.” Will he understand that?
“You can sit.” He pulls out the stool next to him.
It’s like my feet are suddenly frozen to the spot. Half of me wants to run back to my room, and the other half wants to see what it’s like to be near him.
That half wins.
Collin smells good.
He’s warm.
He has nice hands, and I really like his profile, even though his nose is slightly too large for his face. It suits him.
“What are you working on?” It feels too personal to look at the computer screen, but it also feels too personal to look at him. Still, his face seems safer.
“Got an idea for a new project. I love to start new things. When you first start writing, you don’t have to worry about planning or where the story’s going. You can just write.” He has that look in his eyes that I know I get when I think of something new to try with my camera, or come back from an amazing shoot.
“I don’t know. When my professors used to mention anything longer than ten pages, my heart would start hammering,” I joke.
“And for me, ten pages is barely a start.” A corner of his mouth pulls up, and we stare at one another like we’ve just been let in on a secret.
“I’d love to know how you think.” As soon as the words are out, I realize it’s way personal. “Crap. I’m sorry. Normally I’m more careful around people I don’t know.”
“It’s fine. I’m amazed at what you do. Jean showed me some of your photos. They’re amazing.” He chuckles. “You’d think being an English professor, that I could come up with new adjectives. But they were, you know, amazing.”
“Thanks.” And I want to touch him somehow, but there’s no way to do that without being way more forward than I want to be. Or should be. I mean, it’s not like our trip to the bookstore was a date or anything.
There’s definitely something here though, it just feels impossible to explore it right now.
He clears his throat and his eyes glance down, breaking whatever hummed between us. Once the moment is broken, I realize how stupid this is. Us. Here.
“I’m going to bed.” I stand up, almost tipping the chair over behind me.
“Hope you get some rest.” And again he gets me with those kind eyes, making my knees all weak again.
I glance at the clock. “I have a few hours before the family’s up.”
“Well, maybe you’ll be able to sleep in.”
I don’t hold out a lot of hope for that. I’m never able to sleep when everyone else is awake, but maybe tomorrow will be different. Maybe.
I PAUSE OUTSIDE HER DOOR ON MY WAY TO BED, but keep moving. She’s hopefully settled into sleep. Hopefully. Why am I so worried about this girl? I’m sure I shouldn’t be asking myself questions when the answers are staring me in the face.
I like her.
A lot. Or as much as I can at this point. Maybe the real point is that I’d like to get to know her. Because, really. I barely know her. Also, I should still be recovering from Madeline. But the thought of being with Madeline when she isn’t sure if she wants me . . . I know I don’t want that. And I don’t know if I’d ever get to a point where I felt okay being with someone who, at one point in time, dumped me.
I’d rather spend time with Norah. Having a friend who gets me, or wants to, is way better than a fiancé who wants me to be something I’m not. But not while I’m here. Not while this family’s sorting out whatever it is they need to sort out.
I amble down the stairs late again. I’m sure they all think I’m some sort of crazy, eccentric, sleep-in slob. I’m hanging outside in the backyard, while it’s winter. I’ve been up all hours of the night. Unable to bake or not knowing more than the first verse of any Christmas song.
Oh well.
I grab a muffin from on top of the stove and realize that I appear to be alone. That hasn’t happened since I arrived. Very nice.
My phone rings just as I sit in the large chair next to the fireplace.
Madeline.
Now what? I know she sucks me in. I know it, and I answer anyway.
“Hello?”
“Don’t pretend you don’t know it’s me, Collin.” She sounds sad, not irritated. Sad isn’t good. I don’t know how to tell her no when she’s sad.
“What’s up?” I ask.
“I’m lonely,” she says. “But that’s not why I called.”
Silence.
“Okay then.” I guess I’m supposed to do the fill-in here. “Why did you call?”
“I’d just like to see you. That’s all.”
“Why?” I’m immediately on the defensive. She’s pulled me apart too many times to trust her.
“Just to talk. I miss you, you know?” I picture her frowning into the phone, her lower lips maybe half-pulled into her mouth in uncertainty.
“Me, too.” Crap. Did I just say that? “It’s just.” I sigh. “I don’t have any idea what will be accomplished by getting together.”
“I just want to talk. I mean, I’ve been thinking a lot, and I just . . . I want to talk.”
Talk. Talk. That could mean a million different things. Part of me wants to yell no, just because the possibility of Norah is there. But if Norah wasn’t here, I’d probably jump at the chance to talk to Madeline. Wouldn’t I? I’m a mess. A few hours ago I was thinking about how I couldn’t handle being with someone who I wasn’t sure wanted to be with me, and now I’m maybe going to agree to talk? Whatever that means.
It has to be unhealthy to not converse with one girl because I have my hopes on another. Probably.
“I’ll text you the address. Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve, right?” I ask.
She chuckles. “Yes, Collin. Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve.”
“Okay then.”
“Why don’t you come down and spend the night with my family?” she asks.
Ah. Madeline’s family. I have absolutely no doubt that her mother is a huge reason why we split. I’m not about to go there.
“I don’t mean to sound like a jerk here, but you’re the one who wants to get together. I begged you for a month to give me a half hour, and you couldn’t do it.”
“Don’t be like that, Collin.”
I open my mouth to say something in return, but keep it shut. “Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“I’ll be there. I’ve just been thinking and wanted to see you.” She’s pouring the sweetness on thick, which isn’t like her.
This is making me crazy. One time we’ll talk, and she’ll sound like her old, snippy self, and the next time is like this. The problem is that I’m fooling myself if I think I’m completely over her.
“Are you seeing anyone?” she asks.
Norah’s face pops into my mind, but we’re not really seeing each other. “No. No one. Okay. Tomorrow.” What am I doing? Am I setting myself up for more torture here?
“Bye, Collin.”
“Bye.” I flip my phone closed to see Norah staring at me from across the room. The moment our eyes lock, she looks away, turns, and heads for the kitchen.
I shouldn’t feel guilty, but I do. Not only that, but I don’t want her to get the wrong idea about Madeline and I. Though, I guess I don’t know what’s going on with Madeline and I, so there’s definitely no way she’d know.
At the same time, I don’t want her to think that I’m otherwise occupied. But then that’s not really fair to Madeline.
I’m a mess.
And need a shower.
“So, what’s going on with you and Madeline?” Brady asks as I step into our shared room after my shower—the one I’m now wishing I’d stretched a bit further.
“I don’t know. Nothing, wh
y?” I run a hand over my wet hair.
“Norah asked me, and that leads me to my next question.”
Oh no.
“Is something up between you and Norah?” I’m guessing by the look on his face that he really, really wants me to say no, when the truth is that I don’t know, but I’m thinking I want there to be.
I open my mouth to answer, but don’t get the chance.
“Because she’s barely recovering, you know. She loved my brother a lot. Like the way people should love each other before getting married.” Brady crosses his arms.
“Okay, but—”
“And if you’re not sure where you and Madeline stand, you really need to keep your space, man.” Brady stands and walks out before I can say a word.
And then it hits me. Norah asked about me, and if Norah has any feelings toward me at all, there’s no way I want a face to face with Madeline. I guess this means that I really need to make sure that Madeline and I are both clear on the idea that we’ll never be together.
Madeline and I will never be together.
If I’d said that to myself even a week ago, there would have been some serious twinges of frustration and sadness. Not anymore. Now it feels freeing. And I’m smart enough to know that switching one girl out for another girl isn’t the best thing to do, but if the possibility of liking Norah is there, I don’t want Madeline. This to me means that I’m definitely moving past Madeline.
Definitely.
I’m pretty sure.
“OKAY, TABBY?” I’M CLASPING MY HAND over the phone so no one can hear me. I swear the walls in this house are paper-thin.
“Well, you sound all kinds of weird and freaked-out.” She laughs on the other end. “I told you it would be crazy to be up there.”
I sigh. “It’s not that. I mean, it is that. The thing is . . .”
“Oh no.” Tabby laughs harder, and I can picture her dark skin and white teeth, mouth open and laughing. “You totally fell for someone, didn’t you? You don’t even have to say it, I can just tell.” Her voice drops. “Tabby just knows . . .”
All I Want (Three Holiday Romances) Page 3