Running Scared (Letters From Morgantown Book 1)

by Tracie Puckett

  I took a deep breath, turned my gaze down to my hands, and listened as Theo pushed himself back from the table.

  “Harold,” he said, standing. He shook Mr. Kingsley’s hand. “Glad you’re joining us for yet another Christmas season. Tell me you’re staying for dinner?”

  “Happy to,” Harold Kingsley said. “Dinner and a show, so it seems?”

  “Show’s over,” I mumbled.

  Theo excused himself to the kitchen to retrieve more dinnerware.

  “So, who do we have here?” Mr. Kingsley asked, taking the seat next to Theo’s, right across from me. “You in for the light show this weekend?”

  “Oh, right, introductions,” Chris said, circling the table to reclaim his seat. He slid in next to me, his eyes burning the side of my face. I felt his stare for a few long seconds before he turned back to his guest. “Mr. Kingsley, this is Sydney, she’s Theo’s niece. And Syd, this is one of Theo’s oldest friend’s, Harold Kingsley.”

  My head still low, I peeked up from the top of my eyes to study the newest addition to the B&B. His blue eyes were soft, and his face wrinkled with age. My best guess put him in his seventies, a decade or so older than Theo, and by the sound of things, he was someone Chris and Theo knew well. As unsettled as I was to meet another stranger, I felt comfortable enough not to rush out, knowing that the men I’d grown to trust would never put me in harm’s way.

  “Is she okay?” Mr. Kingsley asked. “She’s not saying anything.”

  “Well,” Chris said. “I’d like to tell you that Sydney’s a little shy at first, and that you’ll thoroughly enjoy her company once you get to know her, but she doesn’t like it when we talk about her as if she’s not here, so . . . ”

  The two men shared a smile.

  Theo returned with dinnerware for their guest, and he and Harold talked all through dinner. From what I gathered in my silence, Harold had been coming to the B&B every winter for well over a decade. He’d made a great friend in Theo and Kathy, and he’d even watched Chris grow up over the years.

  It was the first time since I’d arrived at the B&B that Theo’s description of Chris held remarkably true—he was quiet over dinner. He didn’t say another word, not that he could’ve if he’d wanted to. The two older men were so loudly engaged in conversation, it would’ve been impossible to get a word in edgewise.

  I wondered if Chris’s silence had less to do with the loud conversation and more to do with me—about what I’d said, what he’d overheard. I’d admitted too much when I hadn’t wanted to say anything at all, and the fact that Chris had heard what I’d said was probably the worst possible outcome to my admission.

  I kicked myself for being so weak. Now, because I hadn’t taken control of the situation, Chris knew how I felt about him.

  He leaned over, brushing the side of his arm against mine.

  “You’re going out with us tonight, aren’t you?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

  “Probably not.”

  “What if I asked nicely? Would you go then?”

  “It’s not a good idea.”

  “Why?” he asked, his gaze falling softer.

  Because I like you. Because spending time with you only makes me like you more. Because I’m humiliated, and the last thing I want to do is spend the rest of the night being uncomfortable. I don’t want you to bring it up. I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to feel this way . . .

  “Come with me,” he begged, his goofy smile ever present. “Please? I promise you’ll have fun.”

  “I think I’ll stay in tonight, but thank you.”

  “Oh, come on,” he whispered, trying to keep his voice low, so Theo and Harold wouldn’t hear him over their conversation. “Is this because you’re embarrassed?”

  “Would you blame me if it was?”

  He grinned. “No.”

  “Okay then.”

  “Let’s a make a deal. One date,” he said. “Come with me to the light show and I’ll pretend I never heard a thing. I won’t bring it up; it’s like it never happened.”

  “Wait, this is a date now?” I asked.

  “Only if you say yes. Are you saying yes?”

  I swallowed hard, knowing that it would be nearly impossible to turn him down. I didn’t want to turn him down, except for the fact that there were a thousand reasons I should.

  I wished I could call home and consult Carrie; she would know how to help . . . but that wasn’t any kind of option, so I was left to figure this one out on my own.

  “What do you say, Syd?”

  “We could put it to a house vote,” Theo said, inserting himself, making it known that he’d been paying attention to what was happening between Chris and me all along.

  “Oh, we’re doing that?” Harold Kingsley asked. “I vote yes.”

  “Likewise,” Theo said, and then the two of them turned to Chris, waiting for his input.

  Chris looked between the two men for the better part of a quiet minute, and then his eyes settled back on me.

  “I won’t ask you to do anything you don’t want to do,” he said, granting me a small smile. “And if I thought you really didn’t want to go, I wouldn’t have pushed so hard up to this point. But if I can be honest?”

  “Please,” I said.

  “I think you already know what you want, and you’re too afraid to let yourself have it.” I swallowed hard, feeling my chest rise and fall with each heavy breath. “I’m glad you trust me, Syd, but I’d much prefer you trust yourself. So forget about what I want, or what Theo’s pushing for. What does your heart say? What do you want? Because ultimately, that’s all that matters to me. My vote’s with you.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Something magical happened the moment the lights hummed to life. The tree at the center of the Morgantown square glowed bright, an object of celebration and applause for even the long minutes after it lit the sky.

  The sun was gone, the air was cold, and the sky was endlessly dark outside of town. But in Morgantown it was bright, and the entire street where we stood was lit beneath strings of lights. The lawns were decorated with bright glows of displays, from Santa’s sleigh to nativity scenes. The twinkle of the lights shone in the reflection of the snow. It was a breathtaking scene.

  “The McMahons,” Chris said, pointing to a house down the road as we headed back for the B&B. We walked the brick sidewalk together, both dressed beneath a layer of warm winter clothing. Each of us donning coats and hats from Chris’s collection, we were protected against the chilly air that started to blow through the streets. “Remember Paula?”

  “From the diner?” I asked. “Franny’s partner. The hairstylist?”

  “Yes,” he nodded. “She and her husband have lived there for years. It’s always the best-decorated house on the block.”

  We walked by Paula’s, and I turned to study the colorful glow.

  “Why don’t you decorate the B&B?” I asked.

  “We usually do,” he said. “The days got away from us this year, though. We’ve been preoccupied with the renovations and everything else that was going on.

  “Like my arrival,” I said, saying what he was too nice to say. I’d showed up right before their busiest time of year, no doubt putting a damper on all of their schedules and plans for the business. “I’m sorry it didn’t get done.”

  “It’s nothing,” he promised.

  “But I’m mostly surprised Danielle’s never mentioned it.”

  “She knew better. Theo and I both had our hands full, so it would’ve fallen to her, and even she has her limits. So that decided it.”

  We turned the corner of Main Street and walked along the edge of Hudson Drive as a small flurry of snow descended from the sky. Chris closed his eyes and turned his head upward, letting the cold flakes fall against his pinkish skin. A smile crossed his lips.

  “You enjoy winter, don’t you?” I asked.

  “Best time of year. What about you? What’s your favorite season?”
>
  “Autumn,” I said at once, reminiscing about the time of year when warm days turned cold, and green leaves made their yearly transition to shades of gold and red. Bonfires, the sound of wood cracking against the flame. Warm scarves, the smell of pumpkin-scented everything. Halloween. Thanksgiving . . .

  Come out, come out, wherever you are . . .

  I closed my eyes, halting in place.

  “You okay?” Chris asked, stopping next to me. “What’s wrong?”

  My favorite time of year, the season I’d always looked forward to the most, had been tainted by the most horrific event of my life. As much as I’d grown to love autumn, it would never feel the same again. I would never again associate those wonderful things with happiness.

  “Syd?” Chris dipped down, trying to catch my eye. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” I said, trying not to choke on my words. “Sorry.”

  I sensed he didn’t believe me, but Chris didn’t push the issue. We started walking again, this time quiet as we passed groups of locals meandering down the streets and sidewalks. They were pointing out their favorite displays, arguing over which was better. They’d called their hellos in passing, and Chris nodded an acknowledgment. Between the lights, the quiet hum of chatter from passersby, and the freshly fallen snow, it was a picturesque winter night—now plagued by thoughts I couldn’t seem to escape.

  Come out, come out, wherever you are . . .

  “You know what?” Chris asked, taking my hand, jerking my thoughts straight to the way he’d pulled me closer. Even through a pair of gloves, I could feel the warmth of his skin as he threaded his fingers through mine. “I’m glad you decided to come out tonight.”

  “Yeah, me too,” I said, distracted by the way he squeezed my hand. A sudden wave of guilt crashed through me.

  I couldn’t let him do this.

  After all the things I’d said back at the B&B, after all the things he’d overheard, I hadn’t bothered with damage control. He’d overheard a confession I’d never meant to make, and now he was taking it upon himself to make a move. I couldn’t let him.

  Allowing him any closer to my heart was something I simply couldn’t do. And he was letting me in, giving me a part of himself, too. We were on the cusp of something beautiful and dangerous, and all I could see was disaster around every corner.

  I had to put a stop to it before either of us got hurt.

  “Chris, I should tell you something, and I’m not sure you’re going to like it.”

  “What’s going on?” he asked.

  I’d stopped walking again. He turned to me, lowering his eyes to mine, and my heart drowned in a muddy mix of admiration and guilt. Chris was one of the few good things I had in my life, but there were too many consequences if I pursued any kind of relationship with him. And since he wasn’t going to keep his distance, it fell on me to make sure that whatever was happening between us stopped. For good. Tonight. So I had to lie.

  I hated lies.

  “Chris, there’s someone else.”

  “Someone else?” he asked. “A boyfriend?”

  “Jesse.”

  “Jesse’s your boyfriend?”

  “He’s . . . I don’t know, he’s something.”

  “Okay,” he said, blinking slowly to take it all in. Pulling his hand from mine, he took a step back. “I didn’t ask; I didn’t know, I’m sorry.”

  “How could you know?” I asked, stammering over my words. I could hardly look him in the eye, but I was determined to do what I felt was right in the moment. I kept hearing Theo’s words: Lies are necessary when the truth is too dangerous. I didn’t want to hurt him, but the lie was necessary, because without the lie, we were both headed straight for heartbreak. “It’s not your place to apologize. I’m sorry. I should’ve told you sooner.”

  Chris rubbed the back of his neck, trying to mask his discomfort with a failed attempt at a laugh. It was a scoff.

  “Oh, man. I feel like a jerk.”

  “No, please don’t,” I begged. “Chris, it’s my fault. I should’ve said something a long time ago.“

  “Better late than never, I guess.” He avoided meeting my stare. “I should be thankful you told me now, rather than at the end of the night as I went in for a kiss,” he said, sounding more humiliated than I felt.

  “A kiss?” My heart jumped. “You were going to . . . Why would you—”

  “Ah, Syd, come on. I like you,” he said, shaking his head. He didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands, so he shoved them back into his coat pockets. “Of course, it feels awkward now to admit that, given the situation.”

  The longer we stood there, neither of us knowing what to say, the heavier the silence felt. I’d known that my lie was going to hurt, but it’d done more than that. I’d blindsided him completely, and now I was left drowning in a wave of guilt.

  I was trying to make it right—fix things before they were broken. I thought it was the best decision, pushing him away to spare him from the inevitable pain. But saving a few tears and both our hearts down the road wasn’t worth the hurt and shock in his eyes in the moment.

  It seemed cowardly to back out of the lie now without giving it a chance to marinate, but I would much rather be a coward than a liar. My lie had probably hurt him more than my leaving ever could.

  I had to undo it.

  I had to fix it.

  I had to tell him the truth.

  “I don’t want to be with him,” I said. “I don’t know why I said it. Jesse was nothing. He is nothing to me. At one point, sure. I liked him, but then—”

  “Oh, no, please stop,” he said, holding his hand up. “Don’t do that.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You liked him, but after you met me, something changed,” he said. “Is that what you were going to say?” He shook his head. “Sydney, that isn’t fair to him. It’s not his fault you left. Those circumstances were completely out of his and your control, and now distance has changed something for you. But I don’t want to be the reason things have changed. I don’t want to be that guy.”

  My heart hitched when he turned away from me, taking the sidewalk in long strides to put distance between us. I rushed to keep up with him.

  “Please stop,” I begged. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I shouldn’t have said anything. It was stupid, and I made a mistake. Please, Chris, don’t be mad at me.”

  His quick steps slowed before he stopped again outside the B&B. He turned to me.

  “You think I’m walking away because I’m mad at you?” he asked, his tone far gentler now than it’d been in the previous minutes. “No, Sydney. I’m angry with myself. You’re in the most vulnerable place in your life right now, and I pushed too hard. I was thinking of myself and what I wanted, and I never considered what it was doing to you. I was selfish.”

  I took a deep breath, the cold burning my throat and lungs. Chris shifted between his feet, looking past my shoulder as he tried to find the right words.

  “It wasn’t my intention to have feelings here,” he said, pointing between the two of us. He brought his eyes back to me, seeming less humiliated and far more confident now. “It didn’t start that way. I had only the best of intentions. You asked me earlier this week why I feel compelled to look out for you.”

  I nodded. “I did.”

  “It’s because I know the shock and pain that comes with a sudden loss,” he said. “It’s nothing you can prepare yourself for. Closure doesn’t exist. There are a million pains you feel and infinite questions you ask yourself. Life becomes one giant what if. And while I know it was necessary for you to feel the pain that came with your loss, I wanted to be someone you could count on; every part of me screamed to save you—to make you smile, laugh.

  “When Theo told me what happened to your dad,” Chris continued, staggering to catch his breath against the cold, “I hadn’t even met you yet, and I felt this overwhelming urge to help you. I understood where you were coming from, and I had somehow ho
ped that you would trust me enough to confide your feelings in me. When I lost my sister, and then grandmother—the two people I loved most in this world—I shut down for so long. By the time I finally let people in again, I was a long way from who I used to be. I didn’t want to see that happen to you. You’re too young to lose yourself.”

  His words hung there in the cold air, both of us quiet and shivering against the wind. The groups of people walking the streets had grown quieter as they returned to their homes, and only a few were left strolling around to watch the lights. I waited for a young couple to pass before speaking again.

  “Chris, how could you want all those things? You didn’t even know me.”

  “It didn’t matter,” he said. “I wanted to help.”

  “You have helped,” I said. “You’ve helped more than you could know.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” he admitted, his voice at a near whisper. “But I got distracted by my feelings. Falling for you was never part of the plan.”

  “Falling for me?”

  In spite of the heavy moment, something sparked inside of me, glowing brighter than the street we were standing on. He’d fallen for me? A tickling sensation rippled through me, warming my heart and signaling a response I hadn’t felt in weeks. I laughed—a full, crippling belly-laugh that left a smile plastered against my face. He’d fallen for me?

  “God, I don’t know whether to love that or take offense to it,” he said, reaching up to run his thumb along my smiling lips. “That’s all I had to say to make you smile? Or are you laughing at me?”

  I laughed again, harder this time.

  “You’re laughing at me, aren’t you?” he asked, fighting a smile. “Stop that.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I . . . I don’t know what else to do.”

  Falling for him had been easy, in spite of myself. But how could he look at me and see anything but a train wreck? I hadn’t once laughed or smiled with him. I was a heavy weight, dragging everything down. How could he have any kind of attraction to me? I was so broken, so incomplete. It didn’t make sense . . .