Page 65 of Almost Home
“Come get some coffee,” Wilder said, startling me.
“I just took a break.” I didn’t glance over my shoulder at him, afraid the sight of him would weaken my stance. And frankly, I didn’t need to feel any weaker at the moment.
“That was an hour ago. You can take a few minutes.”
“What?” My eyes found the clock on my screen. Ithadbeen an hour—slightly more than, actually. I’d been chasing the rabbit trail of thoughts about my parents while filling out a spreadsheet from one of Wilder’s in-person evaluations last week, and the time had flown. “Wow. Yeah, okay.”
Still a bit soon for another break, but considering he was the boss and owner, and also considering I really wanted some more coffee, I followed him into the break room. As soon as we stepped through the frame, he turned on me.
“Are you okay?”
My brows jumped, surprised by the sudden whirl to face me and the question. “Yes?”
“That’s a question?”
“No. I’m just not sure what you mean.”
“Your mother. I heard some of your end. Wasn’t trying to, but did.”
Embarrassment colored my cheeks and a droplet of shame burned in my chest. I shoved that feeling away, reasoning that I’d stood my ground. “Yeah. It’s fine.”
His dark eyes searched mine for a moment. “You know you can take any time off you need. Especially now while I don’t have quite as much work for you. I’ve been worried you’re bored. You can take time if you need it.”
I’d started shaking my head before he’d finished. “No. I—that was an excuse. I’m sure it makes me—” I stopped myself from saying pathetic, working anew to break the patterns of my past. “I’m sure I need to work on coming up with better reasons that aren’t lies, but it was the best option to make it clear to her I couldn’t come. Even though she’s not happy I’m not teaching, on some level, she gets that I have to work and I can’t control my big, bad boss.”
I flashed him a smile, but his eyes only narrowed. “She fought you pretty hard.”
“Yeah. Well… you remember her, right?”
He made a sound not unlike a scoff and a snort combined. “She’s unforgettable.”
I nodded, not sure what to say. He couldn’t know just how far things had gone, but I’d hinted at it a bit so far. “I’ve been working on how I respond to her. It’s always exhausting.”
A storm crowded his features, and something in me stood up in response. Not fear—not exactly—but awareness. Like some primal part of me understood a part of him, what it would do for me.
But instead of threatening my parents or telling me what I should’ve said or done, he spoke softly. “Do you need a hug?”
My heart clutched. “Sure.” Like it wasn’t the best offer I’d had in recent memory.
His arms came around me so gently, like the aftermath of the call had left me raw and tender. And maybe he was right to move so gingerly, because the moment he held me and I him, the tears hit again. I rested my head on his shoulder and let myself lean on him. I clung to his back and savored the warm slide of his big hands up and down my spine.
“You’re all right. You did good.”
His whispered words soothed, and though I knew I should be embarrassed by crying in the break room at work, I couldn’t summon that feeling. His touch and concern brought me comfort. The delicious tension that followed us wherever we were was absent in favor of care and concern.
Of love.
I wanted nothing more than to stay right here wrapped in him. But at some point, the real world would break in. He’d be swallowed up by the new life he was building after the Army and I would leave. It was always the goal to find peace and closure here, and this hug made a heartbreaking punctuation mark.
My reasons for staying were dwindling. My lease was up this summer, and I’d already stayed longer than I’d originally thought I would.
This safety and acceptance might be a kind of love. I believed we both loved each other in the way people who care deeply about one another do. But enough to build a future on? I’d let others sway my choices for so long—could I look myself in the eye ever gain if I let my feelings for Wilder keep me here?
CHAPTERTHIRTY-TWO
Wilder
The phone interrupted our hug, and though reluctantly, she ran to get it instead of letting it ring through. I’d wanted to tell her that she didn’t need to do that—there was just no reason she needed to run for the phone. Nothing anyone would say on that line was more important than that hug.
