Page 80 of The Bright Side of Brooding
Chapter Thirty-Four
Summer
Sunday night, I’d sent him off with barely a peck to his cheek. I’d wanted to throw myself at him and lock him in my bedroom for hours, especially after the wet shirt incident. But I’d felt it so clearly as he helped clear the table, then wiped down the stove. I wanted him there. I liked his help—no, Ilovedit. I’d been looking forward to him showing up, and I hadn’t balked at him helping.
And then it hit me. I didn’t justlikehis help… I was starting to need it. That thought had sent my heart racing, and I’d needed him gone. I couldn’t explain it, other than knowing I couldn’t keep looking at him, enjoying his warm, large presence, appreciating his help and kindness. I’d needed him gone.
I’d kept away from him for four days before missing him, and knowing I wouldn’t see him next week during his break had driven me to invite him over.
Next stop, you’re barefoot and pregnant in his kitchen, just like you should be.
I could hear my father and brothers snarling their BS, and that was how I knew I’d gotten way too rattled.
“Idiot. You’re such an idiot.”
The words rang false in the quiet of my car, now parked outside the clinic. I didn’t actually think I was an idiot. Having feelings for Nick, enjoying him… I’d wanted a relationship like the one we were building. I always had. When he’d said he missed me and then clarified that he meant just that, that he missed me… honestly, it’d broken my brain for a minute. Could he possibly mean that? Nick wasn’t someone who said anything he didn’t mean. I’d meant it when I said it days ago, so why couldn’t I believe he did? But I’d never had someonenotguilt me for being busy.
I had been in relationships before, just not in a while. Two years since the last one, before I moved here. And honestly, it hadn’t been hard to leave because I got that all the time—the guilt-tripping. That feeling that my own ambitions should take second place. I’d dated a soldier then, too, and he’d been busy. But when he said “I missed you,” what he really meant was, “Why are you so busy? Why can’t you do what I want to do all the time?”
Believing that Nick didn’t think that… it was hard. I wanted to take him at his word, and he’d been nothing but honest. But the last guy was one of several who seemed so irritated I had my own life, even after I started dating them. I didn’t get that—wasn’t I a more interesting person? Didn’t men want women who were independent, not clingy?
Actually, I knew better than that. I often tried to trick myself into believing that’s what they wanted, but so far, my lack ofneedfor a man had been the crux of every break up I’d had. Either I got tired of them being disappointed in me for not needing them or they did.
The fact that I felt I might end up needing Nick… I didn’t know what that meant. I’d genuinely never felt that way, and I’d been trained to think that when I did, it’d be a bad thing. So far, things with Nick felt good.Sogood. I didn’t want those old mindsets to sneak in and steal all that away.
Or worse, to find out he didn’t mean what he said, and he was like everyone else.
I took a deep, cleansing breath and cleared my mind. I couldn’t make changes or figure things out about any of that right now, but I could use this lunch hour well.
I had restless energy out my eyes, so instead of taking a normal lunch, I gobbled my salad in the car and drove around to the sites. I wouldn’t have to off-load them all because people didn’t tend to steal canned goods, plus that was what I had planned for tomorrow. But I wanted to see.
The community mail room’s drop site was bursting. The table had additional cardboard boxes set up on top and underneath, all of which were brimming with cans. Excitement bolted through me. This would be such a good donation to the community.
Two younger soldiers wandered up, each holding commissary bags bulging with cans.
“Oh, thank you for these. That’s great,” I said, smiling wide at both of them.
“Anything to get out of Masters’ PT for a few days, right?” The taller soldier elbowed his friend.
“What’s that?” I asked, a little twinge of dread nipping at me.
“Colonel Wolfe and Sergeant Major said if we bring a full bag of cans, we can skip PT Monday through Wednesday of the week after spring break. No question, that’s why everyone I know dropped stuff.”
If they said anything else, I couldn’t hear them. A sick feeling welled up in my esophagus, and I bolted back to my car.“Anything to get out of Masters’ PT…”
He’d done this. It had to be him. I’d dodged his requests to help, insisting there was nothing he could really do. Short of hauling the stuff to its destination next week, I didn’t have anything he could help with. So he’d done this.
I drove back to work, a muddled mess of thoughts clogging my brain. He must’ve assumed I’d appreciate the help. Some small, quiet part of me could recognize Ishould. But all I could think about, all I could feel, was that sick, oily feeling I got when someone helped me. I’d owe him now. I’d worked so hard not to have to owe him, and he just kept piling it on.
Soon, it’d all go the same way. He’d be disappointed when I refused his help, then it’d grow into frustration and potentially anger. And then we’d be done, and I’d be left with far less than I’d started with.
I groaned in frustration. My thoughts were a mess. I pushed them all down, away, and shoved out of the car. I’d pour myself into work this afternoon and deal with this tangle of feelings and my hang-ups later.
* * *
Major Hall gave me a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“I’m glad the donations are going well—I noticed the one outside the PX is nice and full too. I’m a bit concerned that this project has taken your time and you haven’t found something that demonstrates your managerial capabilities.”
