Page 50 of True North

Warmth wraps around me.

His scent folds in as strong arms press me into a wall of chest. Lips dip by my ear.

“Breathe, Lou.”

Harry.

Oh god.

“Harr—”

“I got you. Keep movin’ to the music, okay?”

His hat dips, covering us both. My safety net from prying eyes and wagging tongues.

Lord above, what will people think. One guy walks out and I’m in another’s arms a moment later.

Shit.

This is not what I wanted.

I wanted normal.

Quiet.

Peace.

To be hidden away...

I clutch Harry’s crisp, clean shirt and slam my eyes shut. His hands hold me to him. I choke through a sob, letting the last ten years thunder through my heart. The aches and the sadness. The loneliness I felt when I left. The humiliation I felt when everything fell apart in California. The shock of seeing Harry again after so long.

After my body lets go and the shock wears off, I push out of his hold a little way. The music has stopped. A fine hand rests on my forearm. I turn to find Rosie.

Her worried face tilts. “Sweetheart, are you alright?”

I nod. “I—I’m okay.”

“Take her home, Harry. I’ll be fine here.”

“No, I can walk,” I insist.

“You’re not walkin’.” Rough hands grip my arms. “I’ll take you home. Or anywhere else you need to go.”

Rosie pats my cheek and walks back to her friends.

Harry takes my hand and leads me toward the doors. I follow, not game to look back. I can’t even face the girls from the diner. That can wait ’til Monday.

Outside, in the truck, I sit in silence as Harry turns her over and pulls out of the parking lot. It’s only six blocks from the hall to the restaurant. I really could have walked.

“Thanks for the lift,” I say, my words almost monotone. I’m starting to think that’s the only phrase I can manage around this man. The stress of the anxiety attack has me exhausted. That, and the fact I feel like a compete idiot. Losing it in front of the entire town.

“Sure.” He stares through the windshield as we come to a stop sign. His hands grip the wheel tight. His jaw is set. He’s probably just as embarrassed about my episode as I am. I continually disappoint him.

“You know what? I’m going to walk. I need the fresh air.” I push the door open before he can drive on.

“Louisa,” he pleads.

I shut the door and walk down the centerline of Main Street, clutching my bag to my body. The pickup idles behind me. I stalk my way toward the restaurant. Three blocks, and I can hide away from the world.

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