Page 72 of The Back Forty
I nod slowly. “I see.”
“And seeing Catalina this morning reminded me of all that. Of how far I’ve come. Of how good I’ve been doing. I just... I can’t go back.” Her voice wobbles and suddenly, I see it. I understand now why she’s been pulling away. Why she’s been cautious. Why that conversation in the doorway shook her.
“And you think I’m like Elijah,” I state.
It’s not a question. It’s a realization. That she’s comparing me to this asshole who never let her have a second to herself. Never gave her a moment to decompress and only wanted to talk about work and metrics.
Am I driven? Sure, but I know how to take a break and talk about something other than business.
She flinches. “No. No, I don’t. But Lawson, our whole relationship begins and ends with work. Our lives revolve around the Marshall businesses and it's true, I do want to please you. I work hard and overthink because I don't want to let you down. That's just in my nature to do.” She says it gently, like she’s trying not to break me. But it still lands like a punch.
“I mean, you got me to stay tonight so we could talk about work. When we’re alone, we usually talk about work. We travel for work, eat together for work, sit next to each other on planes and in meetings and car rides and—”
“Not always,” I interrupt, my voice tight with irritation.
She gives me a look. “No, not always. But enough. And that’s what it was like with Elijah at first too. I thought we could separate things once we started sleeping together. I thought I could handle it. But all we ever did was have sex and talk about work. That was my whole life. I didn’t exist outside of it. I lost myself in my career and forgot who I was. I’m terrified of doing that again but this time with you. I’m scared because this is my health on the line. It's not just my heart; it's my life.”
I wince. Not because she’s right or wrong, but because she’s lumping me and her ex in the same category and I hate it. I hate knowing I remind her of a man who used her up until there was nothing left and then ditched her in a hospital bed to claw her way out.
And I hate that she can’t see I would never do that to her. But most of all, I hate that she’s scared.
I drag a hand down my face and tug at the back of my neck, already retreating into myself like I always do when it feels like I’m being misunderstood and not given a chance to explain. I wish I was better about that. But old habits dig in deep and Dani's right about one thing, the wounds of your childhood perpetuate in adulthood if you let them. And right now, I can feel my own childhood wounds rearing their ugly head.
“Okay.”
She blinks. “Okay? That’s it?”
I nod and shove back from the table, grabbing both our plates and stalking over to the sink.
“Dani, despite what you might think, I’m capable of talking about something besides work. I know that’s what we talk about the most, but I thought we were friends too. I thought our connection went beyond the boardroom.”
I scrub at the dishes like I can clean away the ache that’s formed in my chest.
“But if that’s all you want, just a boss, just a colleague, I can be that. I’ll back off. I get it, so, yeah, okay.”
Even if it kills me to not be able to touch you again.
“And for the record,” I say, turning to face her, hands dripping with suds, “I’m not going to compete with a ghost. I don’t know Elijah, I don’t care to. But I’m not interested in fighting for space in your life and mind with a man who doesn’t belong in it anymore.”
She doesn’t say anything, and the silence thickens. I feel my own frustration building under my ribs like steam in a pressure cooker. I rinse one of the plates and set it on the drying rack, trying to distract myself.
“You’re mad at me,” she says quietly.
“I’m not.”
“Lawson—”
“I’m not.” I’m not yelling; I’m not even raising my voice. But my response is firm, clipped and controlled.
“We have to be able to communicate if we’re going to keep working together,” she says.
“I think we’re communicating just fine.”
She pushes out a breath. “Do you honestly think this—trying to have something more with each other—would be a good idea?”
I let the second dish clatter back into the sink and spin around to face her. Her eyes meet mine and for once I don’t hide anything.
“Yeah. I do.Because I fucking like you, Dani. Not in some casual, passing way. In a real way that's built on a year's worth of friendship and inside jokes while trying not to stare too close at your pretty face. I’ve tried not to, I told myself you were my employee, but it’s there, that desire and need to be close to you, and frankly, I'm convinced it was unstoppable once I got to know you on a personal level. And yeah, maybe I’m a little in over my head here because I went from holding back to wanting to taste your pussy, wanting to feel you come apart on my face every fucking second of the day and night, but I like being in too deep with you.”
