Page 15 of Made for You
Bruce had an odd expression on his face—not upset, but kind of… stunned into stillness. Maybe not shocked outright, rather just like he hadn’t expected my honesty. Not that I hadn’t wanted to reassure him, only that I didn’t have the ability to.
“I don’t mean that to sound bad. I just… I hate when people say something to make someone feel better, but you know very well they have no ability to pay the compliment or offer the promise.”
It’d been a pet peeve of mine since early on. Maybe it came from having parents who habitually lied and tried to pretend everything would be fine when they knew, or should’ve known, it wouldn’t be. It had certainly driven me further into my love of math—it didn’t lie. It didn’t try to pretend everything would be fine.
He was quick to respond. “I’m not upset, just… taking it in. But I appreciate it. You don’t know me or Kiley, so how could you speak to how well it’s going?”
Whatever odd demeanor had struck after my earlier comment had washed away, a wave of understanding sliding between us and clearing it.
I nodded, appreciating his understanding. “Exactly. What I can say is that she seems like a happy, secure kid who cares about you and other people. She’s smart and funny, and you’re certainly…” The awkwardness of any number of the things I might’ve said struck my tongue momentarily numb.
With a small chuckle, he prompted, “And me? What’s your observation of me so far, Nikki?”
A thrill slipped through me like a sunrise, head to toe receiving the scintillating awareness that hearing my name on his lips brought. He’d said it before, but not in a quiet moment between us like this. Not something almost intimate, special.
“Uh, well…” I shifted on my feet, fleetingly wishing I’d worn my heels and not my slippers. They would’ve given me a few more inches in his direction, and for some reason, it felt like I needed that about now. “You seem like you’ve got a lot going on. Like you’re the one keeping things going in a few different ways.”
His lips pressed into a line—not a smile or frown, more like a signal of acceptance, and paired with his single nod, I supposed he did accept my read. Little did he know, I had a lot of other things to say already—he was thoughtful, considerate, polite, kind, and jaw-droppingly, ridiculously, perilously handsome.
But those were things I’d be keeping to myself. Except… except for that slight downward pull and a flash of something in his eyes before he looked back up at the stars. It said something I didn’t catch, that I’d guess wasn’t for me to see at all, and yet, I barely resisted the impulse to grab his arm and tug at him until he gave me his dark gaze so I could inspect him and find it. Mine that expression for all its worth and understand it.
I’d always been curious by nature—something more than one foster parent had been troubled by. Teachers either found it delightful or infuriating. Gram had always embraced that part of me, just like she had everything else once we’d found each other.
What it meant, though, was I couldn’t stand here quietly after something like that.
“Why did it just look like I disappointed you?”
My voice came out soft in the night air, that sense of vastness in the sky conversely pairing with a feeling like everything had moved in close. Maybe Bruce and I were even standing closer, now that I thought about it. We stood only a foot apart. The evening chill had hit, and I folded my arms and pressed them close to conserve heat—no chance I’d abandon this conversation to go get a sweater.
With a heavy sigh, he looked down at me. I saw the moment he realized I was cold—his eyes skated over me, and instantly, he was shrugging out of his tux jacket.
“Here, take this.”
But instead of handing it to me, he held it by the collar and slipped it over my shoulders.
The warmth of it—ofhim—enveloped me instantly, right along with the scent of fresh soap and mint and maybe cologne? Or maybe that was just the other things combining into something the Fates and Universe called “Nikki’s Catnip.” Because it smelledsogood. I forbade myself from inhaling too obviously, from gulping down the scent, knowing I’d never forget it, and praying that somehow this wouldn’t be the only time I experienced it.
A dangerous thought, that one, but I couldn’t pretend I didn’t feel it down to my toes. And I’d probably been quiet a little too long, not-so-discreetly sniffing the heavenly scent of his jacket, so I pushed out, “Thank you.”
He nodded, not looking at me. We both stayed still for a moment, and I wondered if maybe he wouldn’t answer my question. Then after another beat, he finally spoke.
“I wouldn’t say I’m disappointed. I’ve just been in my head about a lot of things, and I guess it’s not a surprise that that’s what you see—I’m a doer. I take care of people, I fix things when they’re broken, I solve problems.” He stopped, eyes flicking to me and then away.
“But?” I pushed, oddly desperate for his answer.
His gaze hooked into mine, his serious expression so loaded with significance, everything in me paused.
“But I’m tired, Nikki. My default is smothering Kiley and I know that, I see it happening, but I don’t know how to stop it. I just—” His exhale cut off his words.
When I was sure he wouldn’t finish the thought, I spoke. “Can I ask you a question about her? Or, rather, your dynamic with her?”
“Sure.”
“I know you’ve hinted at things between you, but I’m wondering why you’re…” I loosed a breath, needing the right words and knowing I’d probably bungle this. “You seem very protective of her, but not necessarily in an older brother or even fatherly way. It’s… I can’t put my finger on it.”
He laughed, but it wasn’t a joyful sound. “We have the same mom. I left home when I was seventeen, joined the Army, and never looked back. I wrote and called on and off, but I didn’t go back, and my mom wanted it that way. She didn’t want me around, because my dad was violent, but miraculously, not with her. Only with me.”
We swallowed that down, the reality of his life opening up into a layered, complex thing, a Diophantine equation that might’ve seemed simple at first glance. “I’m sorry.”
