“Bay— “
“No. Please, Jace, just give me a second. I have to take my life back. No one is going to hand it to me, I have to do this,” I say, with far more conviction than I feel.
“Okay,” he says, but his face says he’s not at all certain this is good idea. He’s waiting patiently, freezing his beautiful ass off, I’m sure. His eyes light up and he grabs my hand, “I know what to do! I’m going to hold your hand or keep my arm around you, whichever makes you feel safer, and if you feel like you just need to stand still for a second, you say ‘yellow’ and I’ll stop until you say ‘green’. If you feel like your chest is closing up and you just want out, say ‘red’ and I’ll turn us right around, I don’t care if we’re in the middle of paying.” I laugh, his enthusiasm is adorable. “And, this one’s really important, if you feel like you did at the house, or like it’s heading that way, say ‘black’ and I’ll carry you out as fast as I can, I don’t care if they think I’m kidnapping you” — He stops, lifting my chin so I have to look him in the eye— “Stop laughing, I’m serious. Why are you laughing?”
“Because I know you’re trying to keep me from having an anxiety attack, but it sounds like we’re getting ready to have an S&M marathon.”
His face turns bright red with embarrassment, but he recovers quickly. He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively and winks, “Whatever you need, Baby, I’m here for you.”
I laugh, forcing myself to ignore the warmth that spreads through me like a wild fire. “Okay, I can do this — ‘yellow’ to pause, ‘green’ to go, ‘red’ to bail, and ‘black’ if I feel like I’m dying, right?”
“You bet.”
I unbuckle my seatbelt, sliding out of the truck and into his arms, my feet nowhere near the ground. I wrap my arms around his neck, not knowing why he won’t put me down, but enjoying it anyway. He’s squeezing me tight, and I feel like the most precious thing in the world. Yet again I’m reminded why women throw themselves at his feet. When his attention is focused on you, it feels like you’re the only person who matters to him in the world. “I’ve got you. When I put you down, I want you to remember this. Remember that I’ve got you, and that I won’t let anything bad happen to you.” He pulls his head back off my shoulder and I do the same, our faces inches apart, his eyes the only thing I can see. “There is nothing in the world that will make me leave you to fend for yourself. You got that? I’m here for you.”
I can only nod, the lump in my throat impossible to talk around. I know he just means while we’re in the pharmacy, but I’ve never had anyone be so convincing that I was loved. I know I can’t dwell on the feeling, it doesn’t mean to him what it means to me, but I’m grateful just the same.
“You sure?” he asks, blue eyes searching mine.
I nod again, and he put me down slowly, more like letting me slide down him so I land so gently, it’s as though I was never even in the air.
He grabs my hand and we walk through the parking lot towards the front doors. He’s got me, he’s got me, he’s got me. It’s a silent chant in my head, and it makes me feel weak and stupid that I need it. I can’t deny that it’s helping as I keep putting one foot in front of the other. He has deliberately shortened his strides to match the pace I set. He does it so smoothly, I wouldn’t even notice except that his stride is so much longer than mine and I don’t feel like I’m slowing him down at all, yet I know for certain that I am.
As soon as we get through the doors, there are so many people standing in a line to the left it’s doubled on itself. He’s got me, he’s got me. I glance around, not sure where we have to go since I’ve never been in here before. My heart skips a beat when I see that we have to walk through the line to get to the pharmacy and pick up my prescription. I try to say ‘yellow’ but it comes out as little more than a whisper. I’m overcome with relief when he immediately stops, turning me smoothly away from the line, shielding me from it, so I’m staring at a wall of shampoo. He picks one up, bright pink and very unlike something anyone would expect him to use. I want to thank him, but I can’t breathe. I can’t move. Oh my God, why is this so hard? Stop being stupid, Bayleigh. Tears start to well up in my eyes, and I’m ashamed that I can’t even say ‘red’. He lets go of my hand and puts his arm around my shoulders, pulling me in, all but engulfing me. He leans over, appearing to anyone around to be discussing the bright pink shampoo bottle, and says quietly, “I’m right here, Sweetheart. You’re not alone. I know you’re freaking out right now, but I want you to know how proud of you I am. You’re doing so good.” I think he’s crazy. I’m failing miserably, but he always seems so sincere it’s hard to not believe. I breathe in deep and the tears do not fall. “If you need to leave, just squeeze my side, whatever you need to do, I’ll help you. It’s okay if you can’t say the word.”
I take one more deep breath, then say “Green”.
I feel the surprise go through him, we’re so close. I wonder if he can feel everything from me as easily. He must. He doesn’t question my decision, putting the shampoo back on the shelf and turning me back to the line in one smooth movement.
I force myself to focus on one person as we walk closer, slow and steady. She’s an elderly lady, with rheumy blue eyes. Her coat is quilted and black, having seen much better days in the past. Her light gray hair is pulled up in a perfect bun, her purse an old leather one. Handmade, and hand tooled. She appreciates art, and I can see she’s worked with her hands, her knuckles swollen with arthritis. I wonder if she made the leather purse.
We get closer and closer to her, and she looks right at me. I feel him tense, but he needn’t have worried about her. She smiles, a genuine smile of joy, and reaches out to me, her gnarled hand resting on my arm. “Oh, hold on to him, my dear. A good-looking young man he is, and so protective of you. My Henry was that way. There wasn’t a better man who ever lived. You hold onto him, get as many years as you can.” She says, her voice raspy with age, but no less insistent.
I smile back, and nod, obviously not going to tell her how wrong she is about us. Jace reaches his hand out covering her hand where it rests on my arm, “Your Henry had excellent taste, Ma’am. I can see why he was so protective. I don’t plan on letting her go, but if she gets tired of me, I’ll come find you,” he says, winking at her with all the charm he has.
He lets go of her hand, and she takes it from my arm, swatting at him, “Oh you! You’re just like him. Go on with you,” she says, laughing. “Don’t you let him go, girl,” she hollers after us, “A man like that is like winning the lottery!”
We both laugh, Jace winking at her again, making her cackle. I laugh again, but I know this lottery isn’t mine to win. He’s a kind and sweet man, but to him I’m too much of an obligation to be anything else. A friend, yes, but more of a pet project than anything.
We make it to the prescription counter, and they don’t even ask for my name. They hand my medications over to him without asking a single question. He’s done it so often, they recognize him. It hammers home just how much he’s done for me. When they tell him the total, it feels like my heart stops. He feels me freak out, and squeezes me into him again. He leans over, whispering in my ear, “It’s just money. I’d give them every dime I have to make you better. Breathe, Bay. We can talk about it later.” When I manage to take another breath, he finishes the transaction and walks me out of the store.
CHAPTER 10
My mind is whirling, it’s so much money. When we get to the truck, he picks me up, spinning me around, and I think he’s lost his mind. When he starts laughing uncontrollably, while still spinning me around, I am certain of it.
“What are you doing?” I squeal.
“You did it! You. Are. Awesome. Why aren’t you happy? You did it, Bayleigh!”
I feel like a little kid who just used a fork properly for the first time. I almost feel insulted. He takes one arm away and flips open my door, setting my feet on the step bar, and I’m almost exactly the same height as him. He’s all joyful eyes, re
d cheeks, and a crooked smile. I’m not insulted. I want to kiss him.
The second I think it, he puts his hands on either side of my face and pulls me in. His lips are soft and warm, and I can’t stop myself from leaning into it. I kiss him back with everything I have, wrapping my arms around his neck. He slides his hands down to my neck, deepening the kiss. I can’t stop. I know I should, I know he’s just caught up in the moment, but I want to believe it’s real. If only for a moment. He wraps his arms around me, crushing me to him, and I tangle my fingers in his hair, holding on for dear life.
He changes the kiss from insistent and needy, to soft and tender. He’s so gentle, slowly exploring. I’ve never felt anything so sweet. I could do this forever.
He breaks the kiss, and my heart with it, tucking his face into my neck. He’s still holding me tight, and we’re both breathing hard. I look over his shoulder and see the little old lady walking to her car. She laughs and shakes her head, “Just like my Henry!” she yells, getting into her car. I wish.
He pulls away, steadying me with his hands on my waist. “We should do that again sometime,” he says, with that heart-stopping crooked smile. I smile back, speechless, but wishing with all my heart he meant it.
“Get in the truck before you freeze to death, Sweetheart,” he says. I sit down and he closes my door. My breath makes fog in front of me; I hadn’t even felt the cold. He gets in next to me and fires up the truck as I try to buckle my seat belt. My fingers are numb and I can’t get it to work. He reaches over and takes it out of my hand, “I’ve got it, Tiny.” He buckles it for me, then rubs his hands together, fast, and reaches for mine. He presses them between his and they feel hot, like a heating pad, instantly warming mine until I have feeling again. “Better?” he asks.
“Yes, thank you,” I answer, pulling them back to my lap.
“Any time,” he says.
He puts the truck in gear, driving out of the parking lot. “I have to go repair that fence that was hit by a plow. Do you mind hanging out in the truck, or do you want me to take you home? It won’t take long.”
“I can stay in the truck,” I really would like to go home, but I can’t ask him to go out of his way.
“You sure?” he asks.
“Absolutely.”
I watch the view out the window. He’s right that I usually only leave the house for the hospital or doctor appointments. I watch the snowy landscape, the people, my thoughts going back and forth between the kiss and the astronomical amount of money I must owe him.
“Bayleigh?”
I look over at him, “Yeah?”
“You’re zoning on me again. Why don’t you just talk about whatever is on your mind instead of closing it up in your head?”
“Do you talk about every thought that pops into your head?” I ask. He shakes his head. “Then, why would I? They’re called thoughts for a reason.” It comes out bitchy, and his lips settle into a thin line, his eyes on the road.
“Fair point,” he says, and turns the radio up.
I want to apologize, but I don’t know what to say. I owe him so much, and I never even knew. I keep thinking about all the times I was mean to him. Snarky, and rude. Annoyed by his very presence. Resenting him being in my hospital room, because I couldn’t even cry if I wanted to. He was always around.
I owe him everything, and I don’t know how to deal with it. I don’t know what to say.
We turn off the main road onto a winding back road, nothing but trees and snow. The road is narrow and the trees hang over the road, creating a tunnel effect. It looks like a painting. The sun breaks through the canopy here and there, and I try to memorize it. I’ve never seen anything like it.
He slows the truck and pulls into a driveway I didn’t even see. I think it’s a driveway. Too narrow to be a road, but with the same tunnel effect the other road had. It seems to go on forever.
When we come out of the trees, there’s a mansion in front of us. It’s a log cabin, but the word ‘cabin’ doesn’t suit it at all. The porch looks like it goes around the entire house, and the railings are actual branches, all weaved together. The posts are actual trees, with the bark removed, growing out of stacked stone platforms. In the center, there’s a wall of windows that must be three stories tall. With the branches, exposed wood, and green metal roof, it looks as though it grew right out of the landscape. There’s a huge matching gazebo off to the right, just inside the trees. There are booths around the left side, a massive table in front of them, and what might be a hot tub on the right. A huge grill, built into more stacked stone, looks over all of it from the back of the structure. Off to the left of the house is a four-car garage, with a carport on the side. It matches the house, all wood, stone, and green metal roof. The doors of the garage look hand carved and have woven branches for arches around the windows. He pulls up in front of the house, then backs the truck up to the carport. I watch through the side-view mirror.
“Where’s the fence?” I ask.
“Not here, I just have to grab some tools I left here,” he says, opening the door and getting out. “I’ll be right back,” he says, closing the door.
I wonder what pieces of this he’s responsible for. The gazebo? Must be. If it is, he did an incredible job making it match everything else. I have a renewed respect for his work if he can create anything that goes with this house. He’s putting things in the bed of the truck and looks up, his eyes meeting mine in the mirror. Caught staring, I look forward through the windshield, and all the air leaves my lungs.
We’re on top of the world. I hadn’t realized we were climbing on the long driveway, but we’re so high up I can see for miles. The huge front yard disappears into the trees and above them, I can see forever. I realize, with a pang of jealousy, that from those giant windows, even higher than we are, they really can see forever. I try to imagine what it would be like to sit on the porch in the summer, reading a book, the only sounds chirping birds, and the rustling of leaves in the breeze.
I daydream about what kind of life the people who live here must have. I’m not fool enough to believe they have a perfect life, with no problems. Everyone has problems, I know that, but I can’t imagine having problems seem as big while the world is at your feet and peace is only a glance out the window away.
The tail-gate closes, and a second later his door opens and he climbs in, rubbing his hands together against the cold. He looks at me as he puts his seatbelt on, his eyes impossibly blue against the red of his cold skin. “It’s a nice place, isn’t it?”
“Nice? It’s amazing. I’ve only ever seen something this beautiful in magazines and movies. I didn’t think they really existed,” I laugh nervously, knowing I sound like an idiot. “That gazebo is gorgeous,” I add, hopefully complimenting the right part of this massive place.
“Thanks,” he says, smiling wide. “I’m glad you think so.”
I’m relieved I picked out the right thing, and in awe of his talent.
“Can you see the lake from here? Is it blocked because of the clouds?” I ask, wanting just one more moment to take it in. He leans toward me, pointing through the windshield.
“You see the mountains over there?” he asks. I nod. “Now, do you see the field on top of the hill behind it?”
“Yes.”
“The lake is in between them. I’ve only seen it a couple of times from here. The mountain almost always has fog and it obstructs the view, but it’s there.”
I try to imagine it, but I can’t. It must be breathtaking.
“I’d let you look longer, but I have to go fix this guy’s fence so his poor dogs can go out without a leash again,” he says.
“Okay, I’m sorry.”
He takes my hand, and pulls it over to the console, holding it there in his. “No need for that.” He puts the truck in gear and we head back into the tunnel of trees.
Back on the main road, he pulls into a gas station. He gets out, pumping gas. When he’s finished, he opens the truck door and leans in. �
�The card reader isn’t working, I have to go in. Do you want to come with me?”
I shake my head. “I think I’ve reached my limit for public interaction today,” I say, smiling so I don’t look as sad as I feel.
He smiles back. “Okay, are you hungry? Thirsty? I can grab something for you.”
I would give my right arm for a cup of coffee, but I can’t bring myself to ask him for anything. “No, thank you. I’m good.”
“Okay. I’ll be right back,” he says, turning the key in the ignition. “Now you’ll be warm and you can listen to the radio. Block out the ‘public’,” he says, grinning and raising his eyebrows.
I laugh, “Thank you”.
I watch him walk across the lot, his loose-legged stride covering ground rapidly. He radiates confidence, totally comfortable in his own skin, and smiling at nearly everyone he passes. He stops, bending over to pick up a small toy off the ground, running over to a flustered woman carrying a baby and holding a toddler’s hand. He hands it to her, then opens the back door of her car for her, seeing that her hands are full. She smiles and says something. He laughs and answers, then goes back to the front of the store. He opens the door, then stops and retreats, holding the door open for a pretty woman and a teenage girl, smiling wide. They both say thank you, staring at him and nervously smiling as they walk through. He goes inside, the door closing behind him. The woman and the girl look at each other, laugh, and turn around looking towards the store. They walk over to the car at the pump next to us, and I can hear them talking.
“I wonder if he’s married,” the girl says, over the top of the car.
“I don’t need to marry him. Just an hour or two would set me for life,” the woman says, getting in and closing the door. I laugh aloud, understanding the sentiment, but more than a little shocked that she just said it to a girl I can only assume is her daughter.
Matchbox Twenty plays quietly on the radio and I sing along, blocking the public just like he said. He comes out, a paper cup in each hand and a plastic grocery bag looped over his wrist. I unbuckle and climb over the console, pushing his door open for him as he gets to it.
Faith (Stregth Series Book 2) Page 11
