He didn't even look. "Yeah?"
"I've been thinking…" I hesitated. "I really don't think you should do this for me."
Still looking straight ahead, he said, "Do what?"
"The repairs and stuff. I just don't feel right about it."
It was true. I didn't. It was a funny thing, accepting favors. Sometimes it felt alright, like when there was some chance of doing a favor in return. But other times, it just felt wrong.
This was one of those times, and I couldn't quite figure out why. But I did know that I was feeling strange and awkward about the whole thing.
Plus, I didn't want to owe him. Cripes, I already owed him – too much, in fact. There was no need to add to the list, right?
In the driver's seat, Joel said nothing in response. He didn't look. He didn't twitch. He didn't even change his expression.
I waited a few more seconds before saying, "You heard me, right?"
"Yeah, I heard you."
"And?"
"And…" He spared me half a glance, before returning his eyes to the road. "Too bad."
Too bad?
This time, it wasn't funny. I turned in my seat to stare at him. "I'm serious."
"Yeah? Me, too."
"What does that mean?"
"It means you agreed to let me do it. Too late to back out now."
"I don't care what I agreed to." I lifted my chin. "It's not too late, and I've changed my mind."
He hit the brakes – not hard, but enough to slow us down considerably. A moment later, he was pulling off to the side of the road. He cut the engine and turned to face me. "Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why the change?"
"Because you've done enough already."
"Bullshit."
I rolled my eyes. "Well that's just great. Your favorite one-word response."
"It's not my favorite."
"Oh yeah?" I said. "Then what is?"
"Fuck."
I stared at him. I couldn't even tell if it was a serious answer. I muttered, "Oh, that's nice."
He said nothing, and our gazes remained locked. The visual standoff lasted practically a whole minute before he said, "Just tell me. What's wrong?"
"With me?" I said. "Nothing. What's wrong with you?"
"Nothing."
I gave him my snottiest smile. "Bullshit."
If he was amused, he didn't show it. "Is this about the painting?"
"No."
His eyebrows rose just a fraction. "You want me to say it again?"
"Say what again? Bullshit?" I gave a bitter laugh. "No thanks."
He said nothing, and the silence stretched out. In spite of my best intentions, I started squirming in my seat. "Alright," I finally said. "Maybe I just don't want to owe you."
"You won't."
"Except I already do."
"No. You don't."
I gave him a pleading look. "Look, we can go round and round about this forever. But we both know that's not true."
When he said nothing, I started rattling off just a few of the things that he'd done for me. "You gave me a ride. You mowed my lawn. You even stopped me from getting robbed." I made a scoffing sound. "Twice."
His expression remained stony. "That was nothing."
"It wasn't nothing." With an effort, I softened my tone. "And besides, I just realized, I shouldn’t be accepting so much."
"Yeah? Why not?"
Suddenly, I felt like crying. "Look, why does this have to be such a big deal?"
"Because this morning, you were good with it. Now, you're not. What changed?"
"I don't know." I blinked long and hard. "If anything's changed, it's you."
"Right." He closed his eyes for a long moment. When he opened them again, I saw the first sign of any real emotion. Regret? Uncertainty? I was still trying to decide when he said, "Just tell me. What'd I say?"
I blew out a long, shaky breath and reminded myself of all those wonderful things he'd done for me. And now, he was asking for something in return – the truth about what was bothering me.
All things considered, it wasn't too much to ask.
In a quieter voice, I said, "I just realized something. That's all."
His voice grew quieter, too. "Yeah? What?"
"I realized…" Damn it. How to put this? "Well, that we're probably not as close as I thought we were." I ran a nervous hand through my hair. "I mean, here, I've been boring you with all of my troubles, and I guess we're not really to that point yet."
"What point?"
Oh, God. He was seriously going to make me explain it? "You know, where we're sharing all these stupid, intimate details." I tried to smile. "So I guess I just figure it's time to dial it back a bit, you know?"
Watching me from the driver's seat, he grew utterly still, but said nothing.
Hoping to take the edge off, I gave a weak laugh. "I mean, I can't have you fixing my plumbing and stuff when we're just hanging out. It's not fair. To you, I mean. So now I feel all funny about it."
"Hanging out," he said. "That's what you think we're doing?"
I wanted to scream. Of all the things for him to zero in on, why that? In a moment of frustration, I blurted out, "Well, what are we doing?"
As an answer, he turned to face the road ahead. And then, to my infinite frustration, he fired up the engine and shifted the car into gear. A moment later, we were, once again, cruising down the lonely country road.
I sank down in the passenger's seat and tried to decide who I was more angry with – me, for not just letting it go, or him, for not understanding why I felt so funny about it.
The remainder of the short drive passed in stone-cold silence that grew more oppressive with every mile. I wanted to say something, but I didn't know what.
From the look on Joel's face, there was nothing he wanted to hear – not from me, anyway.
When we pulled up to my house, he got out of the car and walked around to the passenger's side door. He pulled it open and waited for me to get out.
If that wasn't a hint, I didn't know what was.
Silently, I got out of the car and then watched with growing despair as he climbed back into the driver's seat and shut the car door behind him.
My heart was begging him not to go, but my mouth refused to form the words, even as he fired up the engine and drove away.
Staring after him, I had to give him credit for one thing – he hadn't peeled out of the driveway like an angry teenager. But that was a cold comfort later that night, as I climbed into bed and tried to figure out exactly what I'd done wrong.
Chapter 57
Standing on my front doorstep, Derek gave me a knowing smirk. "Where's your boyfriend?" He turned and made a show of looking at the driveway, where Joel's car had been parked the last time Derek had stopped by.
That was how long ago? Three days? Or was it four?
Still half-asleep, I rubbed at my eyes. The morning sun felt too bright and too harsh. I squinted at my unwelcome visitor. "What?"
Derek turned to face me, and his gaze dipped to my thin rumpled shorts and matching tank-top. "You just getting up?"
I gave him an annoyed look. His clothes weren't rumpled. He was wearing a gray business suit and striped yellow tie. He looked fresh and wide awake, like he'd had plenty of sleep and the perfect double cappuccino.
Well, goodie for him.
I ignored his question and tossed back one of my own. "Is your phone working?"
"You mean my cell phone?"
"Yeah." I felt my jaw clench. "Your cell phone."
He reached into his pocket and pulled it out. Frowning now, he studied the display. "Yeah. Why?"
"Because next time, you can use that thing to call first, okay?"
He stiffened. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying, I don’t want you popping in here anymore."
At this, he had the nerve to look insulted. "Why not?"
"Because I want some privacy."
He was frowning again
. "So he is your boyfriend?"
"And," I continued, "I'm tired of you giving me grief all the time."
"Boy, you're in a mood."
Yes. I was.
It had been two full days since my argument with Joel, and I still hadn't heard from him. Yesterday, I'd even gone to his campsite. It was utterly empty. No tent. No nothing.
Had he left town?
It sure looked that way. And I couldn’t even call him, because right there, on my own kitchen counter was Joel's cell phone. He'd left it there when we'd driven out to the storage unit. Would he ever come back for it? I swallowed. Would he ever come back for me?
The odds weren't looking great.
The situation was so depressing that I wanted to crawl back into bed with an oversized stuffed animal and a pint of ice cream.
But I didn't have either of those things. I had Derek, who was literally the last person on Earth I wanted to see. And this included my pilfering relatives.
I mean, at my least my uncle might make me laugh.
As for Derek, he just made me want to hit something – like his face.
Oblivious to his danger, Derek gave a low chuckle. "What? Did he run out for donuts and forget to come back?"
At the mere thought, something squeezed at my heart. Oh sure, Joel had run out, alright. Unfortunately, no donuts had been involved. Was it over? It sure looked that way.
"Cheer up," Derek said. "Maybe the guy got lost." He lowered his voice as if sharing a secret. "Just between you and me, he didn't seem too bright."
I stared at him. What a condescending prick.
At something in my face, Derek took a small step backward. "Oh, c'mon, chill. I was just kidding."
"No, you weren't." I crossed my arms. "That's what everyone says when they're caught being an asshole."
Now, he was staring. "What'd you say?"
"You heard me."
"Yeah. I did." He frowned. "And that's a new word for you."
It was true. I hardly ever used language like that. And even when I did, I was usually alone. But what had all of that politeness gotten me? Nothing.
I gave a weary sigh. "Is there a reason you stopped by?"
"Yes. As a matter of fact, there is. I wanted to remind you of next month's meeting."
He didn't need to remind me. He meant, of course, the final meeting to select recipients of this year's art endowment.
This meant that in three weeks or so, I'd be spending the whole day meeting with the finalists in the boardroom while a parade of strangers traipsed through the house and ogled my parents' things.
In my current mood, I wanted no part of it.
Unfortunately, skipping wasn't really an option – since the meeting was taking place literally where I lived.
"I don't need a reminder," I told him. "And even if I did, why would you remind me now? That's weeks away."
"I'll get to that later," he said. "But you are planning to be there, right?"
"Of course."
He gave my clothes a quick glance. "And you're gonna be presentable?"
Oh, for God's sake. "No," I snapped. "I'm wearing this." I made a show of looking confused. "Don't tell me that's a problem?"
"Very funny."
Was it? I didn't think so, but then again, my funny bone had taken a serious beating since Joel's abrupt departure.
I told Derek, "Next time, just call, okay? Or text. I don't need a personal visit for these little reminders."
"It's not little," he said. "It's important that you be there, because I can't."
"What? You're skipping it?"
If only that were an option for me.
"Yeah," he said. "My dad's got me doing some research on the other side of the state, so you'll be pulling double duty."
I wasn't the least bit concerned. When it came to the actual decision-making process, I had nearly nothing to do with it. Mostly, my role consisted of being introduced as my dad's daughter and saying something nice to whoever came in.
Even in my current state-of-mind, I could pull that off with my eyes closed. In fact, I was kind of wishing my eyes were closed now.
I gave Derek an annoyed look. "Alright, fine. You told me. Is there anything else?"
His gaze narrowed. "Hey, if you want me to go, I'll go."
I waited.
He didn't go.
Instead, he said, "Next time I stop by, maybe you'll be in a better mood."
I thought of all the grief he'd given me over the last few weeks. "Or maybe," I said, "I'll slam the door in your face and remind you that you're supposed to call first."
And with that, I stepped back and did the unthinkable. I did slam the door in his face, and afterward, ignored the knocking and doorbell-ringing that followed.
Immature? Maybe. But somehow, I couldn't bring myself to care. When he finally went away, I stomped up the stairs and took a long, hot shower in hopes of washing away my irritation.
It did no good. I spent the whole shower thinking about Joel and our stupid argument. It wasn't only that I missed him like crazy. It was the grim realization that I'd revealed more than I should've.
It had been a risk, and not only to my heart. People would pay big money for the sad story that I'd so recklessly shared. I could practically see the headlines now.
Heiress Facing Financial Ruin.
Trouble with Blaire Estate
Stud Lover Tells All
I gave a small shake of my head. My imagination was running too wild for my own good. Even in my darkest thoughts, I didn't truly believe that Joel would be that cruel.
Or maybe I was just being naïve. After all, I'd trusted Derek, and look what a jackass he'd become.
I was just drying off when the doorbell rang again. Standing naked in my bathroom, I tensed.
Could it be Joel? The odds weren't totally terrible. After all, Derek had already stopped by, so that ruled him out. Plus, Joel had left his phone. If nothing else, he'd come back for that, right?
I dove for the clean clothes that I'd already laid out and scrambled to put them on. I flew down the stairs with no shoes and wet hair, only to find myself disappointed.
It was Derek again, delivering what? A freaking box of donuts. He told me it was a peace offering. I told him it was a stupid joke that I didn't appreciate.
I appreciated it even less when Derek made fun of me for my wet hair and disheveled clothing.
Some peace offering.
I refused the donuts and once again, slammed the door in his face.
It was getting to be a bad habit, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. Just like earlier, I ignored his knocking, along with the doorbell, and tried to go about my business. After fifteen minutes or so, he went away at last.
Or so I thought. A few minutes later, just as I was finishing making my bed, the doorbell rang again.
Disgusted with the whole thing, I stomped down the stairs, determined to give Derek another piece of my mind.
But this time, when I yanked the door open, it wasn't Derek.
It was Joel.
Chapter 58
Standing on my porch, he looked too good to be real. I couldn't read his facial expression, but the rest of him looked incredible, even in basic jeans and a loose T-shirt.
I felt myself swallow. My hair was still wet, and I ran a nervous hand through the damp tendrils. "Uh, hi."
After what seemed like forever, he finally smiled. "Hi."
Something about that smile made me feel gooey all over, and I had to resist a sudden urge to throw myself into his arms.
After all, this might not be a social visit. Tentatively, I said, "Are you here for your phone?"
He shook his head. "Screw the phone. I'm here for you." His gaze met mine. "Unless you're gonna tell me to take a hike."
I smiled with relief. "I hate hiking." I paused. "No. Wait. That's not true. I like hiking. I just mean…" I gave a nervous laugh. "I wouldn’t want you to hike alone."
What was I saying? I had no idea.
I looked down at our hands, now joined. I liked how they looked. Even better, I liked how they felt. I wanted to join more than our hands.
But then, his words sunk in. I looked up. "You brought me something? What?"
"A birthday present."
"But it's not my birthday."
"Yeah. But it was. And I never got you anything."
I shook my head. "You're wrong." My eyes were feeling almost misty again. "You gave me more than you realized."
"And you gave me something better."
"What?" I asked.
His voice grew quiet. "You."
I felt a big, stupid smile spread across my face. "And you gave me you."
His smile faded, and he shook his head. "No. I didn't. And I want to make it up to you."
"What do you mean?"
"Wait here," he said. "I'll be right back."
He released my hand and turned away. From the open doorway, I watched as he strode to his car, popped the trunk, and pulled something out.
It was big and flat, and wrapped in festive paper. He carried it from his car to the porch and held it out between us. He gave me a sheepish smile. "Happy birthday."
I stared at the thing. The size and shape looked eerily familiar. "What is it?" I asked.
"You know what it is."
I'd suspected. I'd even hoped. And a few minutes later, sitting beside Joel in my front room, I finally knew for sure.
I'd just removed the wrapping paper, and was now staring at the masterpiece underneath. I could hardly breathe. "I'm not sure I can accept this."
"Why not?
"Because it's too beautiful." I turned to study his face. "And I know that it must mean something to you."
"Forget that. You mean something to me."
Carefully, I laid down the painting, face-up on the ornate rug. And then, I threw myself into his arms and murmured against his chest, "I love it. Thank you."
His arms closed tight around me, and he whispered into my hair, "I'm sorry I was such an ass."
"You weren't," I said.
"Nice of you to say so."
I pulled back to study his face. "If you don't mind me asking, why were you so bothered?"
He glanced away. "It's complicated."
That wasn't the answer I wanted, but it seemed heartless to push it, especially after he'd given me so much already. But then, he surprised me with an odd question of his own. "You ever hurt people?"
Something Tattered (Joel Bishop Book 1) Page 22
