Page 16 of Fighting for You
I’ve only ever known him as my rock, my protector. He’s never been anything but dependable and stalwart in any situation. He’s always my first call when things aren’t going right. At least with most things.
The door to the shop opens, and a man beelines for the front desk to check in with Kori. Hayes stiffens and straightens at the sight. My time with him is up.
“I guess I’ll let you get back to it,” I say, winding my arms around his torso. Hayes’ arms engulf me in a bear hug.
“Love you, Booger,” he says loud enough for only me to hear.
“Love you,” I say as I pull back. Then I add more forcefully with a playful glare, “Go see Dad.” Hayes grumbles in response, and I make my way to the front of the shop. I pass by the man who walked in, lounging on the sofa.
“Caine,” Hayes calls from the back, and the man stands up. I smile at him and note the prominent red and black scorpion tattoo on the front of his neck.
I spend the ride to work wondering just how much a tattoo like that—or any—hurts and if I could find the courage to get one someday.
“What’s got that brow so furrowed, Margot?” Lydia’s voice pulls me out of my head and back into her room at Saint Stephen’s. I don’t know how long I’ve been lost in thought as I’ve folded and refolded her extra blankets. Shaking my head, I bring myself back to the present.
“Sorry,” I say with a sheepish smile. “I’m up in my head today. Just the meds and I’m done here. Do you need anything else before I head out?”
I log the medication, dosage, and time on the tablet before turning to her and holding it out.
“Yes,” she replies, taking the small plastic cup containing her pills from me. “Sit and talk to me. Clearly, you have something brewing up there.” She motions toward her head with a chuckle. I hesitate for a second, not sure what to tell her. I don’t even know where my head is. Remembering how warm and thoughtful she’s been when I’ve come to her with my issues in the past has me sitting down in the chair next to hers, both situated next to the window overlooking the gardens in the back of the building. I stare out into the crisp day for a moment, the trees swaying slightly in the breeze, sun bright.
“I’m thinking of doing something a little… reckless,” I breathe out finally, my eyes still peering outside.
“Reckless, hm?” she hums thoughtfully. After popping the pills into her mouth, she takes a sip of water from the glasssitting on the table next to her. “Well, I’ve done my fair share of reckless things in life, and let me tell you—they’re always the most fun.” I turn my head and find her smiling fondly at me. “Want to tell me about him?”
I huff out a laugh, and my cheeks heat. “Am I that obvious?”
“I’ve watched Thea fall in love before, I know what smitten looks like.”
“I’m not smitten,” I rush out. “Just… interested.”
“Okay,interestedthen,” she says, humoring me. “So, why are you hesitating?”
I look down at my hands as I play with the ends of the drawstrings on my scrub pants. I bite my lip, unsure how much to tell her.
“He might not be the best choice. And people won’t understand.” I look up at her and add, “They’ll definitely talk.”
Her eyes narrow on me as she cautiously says, “It’s not Cary, is it?”
I bark out a laugh. “Oh my God, no! It’s actually the other Grant brother who keeps running through my head.”
“Oh, whew, we were about to have a very different conversation,” she says, her eyebrows rising as realization hits. “So, Brooks, huh?”
“Yeah…” I draw out with a slow nod. “He feels dangerous in a way but not unsafe. Does that make sense? I think there’s a good heart underneath all of that… baggage. Am I crazy for wanting to pursue him?”
“I’ve seen that boy grow up, and he’s had a hard time of it, some of it because of his family, some of it his own doing. Unfortunately, he was the emotional punching bag for his father when he was still alive, I’m not sure why, but it wasn’t fair to him,” Lydia replies, her tone somber.
We’re quiet for a moment as I let her words sink in.
“But that motorcycle,” she says, her eyes sparking and her lips quirking. “If I were thirty years younger, I’d let him take me for a ride.”
“Lydia!” My eyes widen at her insinuation, and I tap her forearm with a laugh. “You’re just as bad as Georgie.”
“I may be sick and old, but I’m still a woman with eyes,” she says. “Youknowthat man knows what he’s doing.”
My cheeks heat again, and I’m back to fiddling with the drawstrings. “Yeah, that’s also a concern for me. I’m not exactly what you’d call experienced.” My chest tightens with my confession, and I look up to gauge her reaction, but all I find is warmth and understanding.
“You said he has a good heart and makes you feel safe, trust your instincts. Go at your pace and remember ‘no’ is a full sentence,” she says, then tacks on, “And if he does anything untoward, I know people who can rough him up.”
