by Susan Stoker
That left Erin standing with Conor. She looked up at him with what she knew were big eyes.
He chuckled and kissed her lightly on the lips. “You’re not running screaming out the door. I take it that’s a good sign?”
“I’m still considering it,” she said softly. “But I’m not sure that would make the best impression.”
“Thank you,” Conor said solemnly.
“For what?”
“For coming over today. I know I kinda coerced you into it, but I appreciate it. In case you didn’t notice, I like you.” He grinned to let her know he was teasing. “And I really wanted you to meet the most important people in my life…because I consider you one of those people.”
Erin knew she should’ve been freaked out. They’d only been dating for a month, but they’d known each other for a lot longer than that. And honestly, she wasn’t that nervous about meeting his parents or sisters. He was awesome, so it figured that they would be too. That wasn’t what was making her a nervous wreck.
“I…you’re important to me too,” Erin said.
“Good. Come on, let’s go sit.” He led her over to a love seat next to the couch and settled her before sitting next to her. Right next to her.
As they made small talk with his nieces and sister, Erin realized something she’d been too overwhelmed to make note of earlier.
Most of his family was overweight.
And not just a little bit. His mom had to be pushing three hundred pounds, his sisters probably two-fifty. His brother-in-law was also a big man, probably two-fifty himself, but as he was tall, the weight was distributed pretty evenly. The only person, other than the kids, who wasn’t carrying more weight than he should was his dad.
Before she could really think about it, Conor’s mom brought out a tray of snacks. She placed it on the coffee table, smiled at everyone, then went back into the kitchen.
Erin watched as Sarah and Honey each helped themselves to a Santa cookie. Karen leaned forward and grabbed a miniature pig-in-a-blanket and held it out to Conor.
“Con?”
Conor reached for it and popped the whole thing in his mouth at once. “Thanks,” he mumbled as he chewed.
Karen picked up the tray filled with cookies, the miniature hotdogs, assorted chocolates, and cupcake papers filled with Chex mix and held it out toward Erin. “Help yourself.” The smile on the other woman’s face was open and friendly.
Erin swallowed hard and shook her head, words failing her.
Karen merely shrugged and put the tray back on the tabletop. She grabbed some of the Chex mix and sat back, happily munching as she turned her attention back to the television.
Erin couldn’t take her eyes from the tray of food. She felt as though she’d entered the twilight zone.
George and Alfred wandered back into the room, Alfred sitting next to his kids and George taking a seat in a recliner on the other side of the couch. Everyone was smiling, laughing, and generally having a good time.
But she was in the middle of a nightmare. She’d been so careful to avoid situations where there would be food served, but here she was, staring at the plate on the table in front of her, knowing it was expected of her to snack, smile, and be social. Not only that, but looming in the not-so-distant future was the huge dinner Conor’s mother had probably been slaving over all day.
The food on the tray in front of her seemed to represent every pound of weight she’d worked so hard to lose. Her throat was tight, and Erin knew if she tried to eat even one bite, it’d come back up. Wouldn’t that be a good first impression to give Conor’s family?
Erin glanced at her watch. Twenty minutes. She’d been here for twenty minutes and it felt as if it’d been hours. She would never make it through the afternoon and evening. What a disaster.
Conor sat at the table later that afternoon and couldn’t help checking on Erin. She’d been nothing but polite throughout the day. She’d allowed Honey and Sarah to give her a tour of the house. She’d even gone into the kitchen and helped his mom and sisters in the final preparations for the dinner.
But she wasn’t all right.
He didn’t know how he knew, but Conor knew to the marrow of his bones that something was terribly wrong. He wanted to leave, but when he’d brought it up to Erin after he’d pulled her aside, she’d refused, saying she was having a good time.
But she’d lied.
And Conor wasn’t the only one who’d noticed. His mom had been giving him worried glances throughout dinner, and even his sisters had begun to look concerned.
Erin hadn’t said a word after the meal had started. She’d stared down at her plate as if the food on it was going to come alive and attack her. She’d nibbled on the lasagna, but had refused a brat when he’d offered it as the plate was passed around.
Conor didn’t give a shit what she ate, but he did care about the faraway look in her eyes. Right in front of them, she was going cold and remote and it scared the shit out of him.
It was when his mom came into the dining room with the two pies she’d made earlier that morning that whatever was eating at Erin finally became too much.
Conor felt her hand on his arm and looked at her. She was looking back at him, but her green eyes were dull, not the beautiful jade he’d gotten used to. She said quietly, “I’d like to go now.”
He wanted to protest. Wanted to say that they were going to open presents after dinner. That he wanted to see what her reaction would be to the small gift he knew his parents had wrapped up for her. But he didn’t. He’d promised.
He’d told her before they’d even entered the house that if she’d had enough, all she had to do was let him know and they’d leave. He wasn’t going to renege on that now. Not when whatever she was feeling was clearly overwhelming her.
Lifting his hand, he put it on her cheek and brushed his thumb over her lips in a brief caress. “Okay, bright eyes, we’ll go.”
He turned to his family. “Mom, Dad, I’m sorry, but we need to get going.”
Everyone protested, but Conor ignored them, standing and helping Erin get to her feet as well. He put his arm around her waist and led her away from the table. She was stiff under his hand as they walked toward the front hallway.
Conor was getting their light jackets out of the front closet when his mom came up to them.
“I’m sorry you can’t stay.” To her credit, she didn’t try to cajole them into staying. She held out a plate covered in aluminum foil to Erin. “I made these special just for you.”
But Erin didn’t move. Her eyes were locked on the plate as if it was a snake that was going to reach out and bite her if she touched it.
Conor took the plate of what he knew were his mom’s special cookies. They were amazing, and she only made them during the holidays. Chocolate, caramel, peanut butter, and even Butterfinger pieces. They were delicious, and eating just one could put even the hardiest person into a sugar coma for hours.
“Thanks, Mom,” he said softly.
“Don’t forget this,” his dad said, entering the small foyer. He handed a small package wrapped in festive paper to his son.
“Appreciate it,” Conor told him. He leaned forward and hugged his dad, then did the same to his mom.
“Take care of her,” she whispered as they hugged.
Conor squeezed her harder. He wasn’t surprised that his mom knew something big was up with Erin. He appreciated that she wasn’t holding it against her though. But then again, he knew she wouldn’t. His parents were the best.
“I’ll call you later.”
“Love you,” his mom said, stepping back.
“Love you, son,” his dad said, clapping Conor on the back.
Conor shoved the gift into the pocket of his jacket and balanced the plate of cookies in his other hand. He wrapped his free arm around Erin and said, “Thanks for everything. Tell Karen and Mary I’ll talk to them soon. Oh, and make sure Honey and Sarah know Erin picked out their presents.” He leaned forward and whis
pered, “After I told her the girls liked to camp, she picked out flint and paracord shoelaces just like she has. I added the gift cards.”
He smiled at Erin, but she didn’t seem to be paying any attention to him. She was standing there, but her head was a million miles away.
“Take care,” his mom said, sounding extremely worried as Conor walked them out of the house toward his truck. He opened the passenger door and Erin dutifully climbed in. He shut it behind her and walked around to the other side. He waved at his parents, who were standing in the doorway, their arms around each other, and climbed in.
“Talk to me, bright eyes,” he implored Erin.
She turned to him, and with that blank look in her eyes, said, “I’m really tired, Conor.”
He sighed. He needed to get through to her, but sitting in the driveway at his parents’ house wasn’t the time or place. “Can you hold this while I get us back to your place?” He held out the plate of cookies.
She stared at it for a long moment before her hands came up and she gingerly took it from him. Then she sat with her back ramrod straight, holding the plate as if it were a bomb that could explode at any moment rather than a simple stack of cookies.
Wanting nothing else but to get her home and to the bottom of what was wrong, Conor started his truck and backed out of the driveway.
He tried to make small talk as he drove to Erin’s apartment, but she didn’t respond. Her eyes stayed glued to the aluminum foil in her lap.
As soon as he stopped, Conor threw the truck into park and turned to the woman who was scaring the shit out of him. “Erin, please. What happened? Was it something I said? Did someone else say something to you? Talk to me.”
“I’m fine, Conor,” Erin told him in a wooden voice. “I’m just really tired. I’m going to go inside. Thank you for inviting me.”
She was saying all the right things, but that hollow look was still in her eyes and she was breathing too fast. Conor had a lot of practice in being able to tell when people were lying, and Erin was definitely lying to him right now.
Whatever was going on, she obviously didn’t want to talk to him about it. And that hurt. A lot. As much as he liked her, if she wasn’t going to open up and be honest with him, he couldn’t force her to. He opened his door and walked around to help her out. She hopped down and started for her apartment without looking at him.
Conor grabbed the cookies she’d left on the seat of the truck and hurried after her. He walked with her until they got to her door. She unlocked it and turned to him. “Thanks again.”
“Don’t forget these,” he said softly, holding out the cookies. “My mom makes them special during the holidays. They’re full of sugar and totally not good for you, but they’re really, really good. It looks like she made you a special batch. Even I didn’t get any this year.”
Once again, she stared at the plate for a long moment before holding out her hands.
Conor put the plate in them and took the present out of his pocket. “They also got this for you for Christmas.” He shrugged, not at all sure now about what he’d encouraged his parents to do for her. By the way she was acting, she wouldn’t appreciate it. Hell, he wasn’t sure he’d ever see her again after tonight. Whatever had happened had made her act like a stranger toward him. He hated it.
He had his own present he was going to give her when they got home from his folks’ house. It wasn’t anything tangible, but he hoped she’d enjoy it all the same. Now definitely wasn’t the time to let her know about it.
“Thanks.”
That was it. Just thanks. Conor mentally winced. Refusing to give up, he leaned toward her and took her face between his hands. He tilted her head up to his. “I’m worried about you, bright eyes. It’s killing me to leave, but I know that’s what you want me to do.”
She nodded. The movement small and stilted.
“It’s too early…but I love you, Erin. You’ve made my life exciting and happy over the past month. You’re the first thing I think about when I wake up in the mornings and the last when I go to sleep at night. I want to spend all my days with you by my side. Please…whatever happened tonight, don’t give up on us. On me.”
“Good night, Conor,” Erin whispered.
With nothing left to say—he’d spilled his guts and she’d continued to stare at him in that blank way—Conor dropped his hands and took a step back.
“I’m not giving up on us,” he informed her. “I work tomorrow, but I’ll stop by before my shift starts at ten.”
She didn’t say another word, just closed the door. Conor heard the lock engage and the safety chain pull across its track.
He sighed and stared at the closed door for a long moment then turned and walked back to his truck. Before he left, he pulled out his phone and sent the woman he loved a text.
Conor: I love you.
10
Conor couldn’t sleep. He’d dropped Erin off two hours ago, and he hadn’t stopped worrying about her since. His mom had called and he’d talked to her about what had happened. Neither of them could figure out what had made Erin disappear into herself.
Pacing his small living room, he racked his brain trying to remember everything that was said and done that day. She’d seemed to be okay—uncomfortable, but all right—before dinner. It wasn’t until they’d sat down that she’d gotten stiff.
He nodded to himself. Dinner. That was it. He remembered that she’d told him the first time he’d asked her out that she didn’t do meal dates. It had to be it.
Conor had no idea what had happened to Erin in the past, but whatever it was had to be connected to meals. Just as he made up his mind to head back over to her house because he couldn’t stay away, his phone vibrated.
Praying harder than he ever had in his life that it wasn’t work—the worst thing that could happen would be for him to get called in now for an investigation or to back up one of his fellow wardens—Conor looked down at his phone.
He didn’t even have to unlock it to see the text. The fact that there were no emojis attached to it said almost as much as the words did.
Erin: I need you. Can you come over?
His legs were moving before his brain caught up. He typed out a quick text even as he was climbing into his truck. Conor didn’t remember locking his house, but at the moment, all he could think about was Erin.
Conor: On my way.
She needed him. The three words echoed in his brain. Was she all right? Had she hurt herself? Ignoring the fact that it was dangerous, Conor typed out another text as he raced down his street.
Conor: Are you hurt? Do I need to call an ambulance?
He didn’t have to wait long for her response. It only made him feel marginally better.
Erin: No
Short and to the point. He didn’t know which question she was answering, but it didn’t matter if the answer was the same to both. Putting his phone on the seat next to him, Conor concentrated on the road and getting to the woman he loved.
He pulled into her parking lot in record time and raced up to her door. He knocked and said, “Erin? It’s me, Conor. Let me in.”
He heard the lock click and the next thing he knew, he had Erin in his arms. She was shaking and had obviously been crying, but she didn’t seem to be hurt. Conor took a step into her apartment, taking her with him. He shut the door behind him then pulled back so he could look her up and down.
Running his eyes over her, he didn’t see any blood and she physically looked fine. But she was obviously not okay. Her eyes were red and bloodshot and she had dark bags under them. Even as he looked her over, she sniffed once more. He saw her eyes fill with tears, making the green even more vivid. Then she buried her head into his chest and shook.
He leaned down and put an arm under her knees and hauled her up into his arms. She curled tighter into him and wrapped both her arms around his neck. He walked into her living room and dropped onto the cushions of her couch with Erin on his lap.
As she cr
ied, Conor looked around, searching for what, he wasn’t sure. There weren’t any pill bottles indicating she might’ve tried to harm herself. Nor was there anything remotely out of place. Her apartment was neat and tidy, as usual.
But the plate his mom had made sat on her coffee table, the edge of the aluminum foil peeled back just enough so the cookies could be seen…and smelled. The present they’d given her was also on the coffee table, opened. The wrapping paper sat off to the side of the picture frame.
Rocking slightly, Conor stayed quiet and let Erin cry in his arms. He hated that she was upset, but was ecstatic that she’d reached out to him. He honestly hadn’t been sure she wanted to see him again when he’d dropped her off.
Finally, her tears tapered off and she lay exhausted in his arms. She cleared her throat and said in a croak, “Not much of a merry Christmas, huh?”
“I don’t know. I’m with the woman I love and we’re both uninjured. I’ll take it.”
She was silent, and Conor fought the urge to fidget under her.
“I owe you an explanation. No, several explanations, actually.”
“Erin, you don’t owe me anything. All I want to know is if you’re okay. Everything else can wait.”
Her voice wobbled, but she opened up to him. “I’ve told you a little bit about my childhood. As you can guess, it wasn’t great. No…that’s a lie. It was awful, at least after my dad left. My mom yelled at me all the time. I couldn’t handle it, I missed my dad and didn’t understand why he’d left. So…I started eating. It comforted me. The more my mom yelled, the more I ate. Then as I gained weight, she just yelled at me more. It was a vicious cycle.
“I hated myself, but I couldn’t stop eating. I’d hide food in my room and eat it at night under the covers where my mom couldn’t see me. I’m ashamed to admit it, but I stole food from kids at school when I could too. When my belly was full, I felt happy…or at least content. But it was fleeting. So damn fleeting. I needed more and more food to feel full. I got called names in school. The worst was Eat-more Erin. The more depressed I got, of course, the more I ate.”