Page 57 of Whirlwind
“But you were uncomfortable with something. I could see that,” he says, his thumb rubbing circles on my skin. “Do you want to talk about it?”
The last thing I want is for Tyson to start seeing me as a patient instead of the woman he’s dating—whatever it is we’re doing. It’s not his job to psychoanalyze me. If I tell him the truth—that I didn’t enjoy watching how easily he and Isla communicate—will he think it’s endearing or utterly ridiculous? Will I stop being worth the investment?
My naivete threatens to derail us before we even start, and it’s so fucking frustrating.
“No,” I say bluntly. “Sharing the things I’m least proud of doesn’t hold much interest for me. But I also don’t want to start this relationship by hiding who I am or what I’m thinking.”
“I can appreciate that.”
“I’ll need you to do the same.”
“Yeah, of course,” he says, glancing at me briefly. “Do you think I’m hiding something?”
“No,” I say, exasperated. I blow out a breath and stare out the window at the blurred lights of passing houses. “That’s not what I think. I’m just feeling very unhinged right now.”
Resting my forehead against the window, the cool glass feels like a wet washcloth on fevered skin—a balm for an unseen symptom. Tyson doesn’t press me for the rest of the drive.
“Let’s go get Nightmare,” he says when he parks in his driveway.
I unlock my front door and free my fur-baby from his crate. Nightmare yips and circles us until we’re outside, so he can relieve himself. Tyson still doesn’t say anything—just laughs and plays with him, which hints that he’s not upset over my drama. That’s a relief; I avoid that kind of tension like the plague.
Still, my squirrel brain jumps from thought to thought—disappointed in myself, imagining how Tyson must hate dealing with me when he has such a high-pressure career.
“Kit,” he says, stepping in front of me. “Grab his crate. Come home with me so we can talk you off whatever ledge you’re on.”
“Thank you,” I say, relief washing over me like a hot bath. I run inside and grab a few things for both me and Nightmare, while Tyson entertains him outside, letting him burn off some puppy energy. When I return and lock up, he picks up Nightmare and reaches for my hand. I take it, falling into step a half-pace behind as he leads us safely across the quiet street.
“Do you want anything to drink?”
“No,” I answer, stopping just inside his house. I set the small kennel down and drop the tote I’d shoved a change of clothes into.
“You gonna come in?” he asks, setting Nightmare on a blanket on the couch. As usual, the dog spins a few times before curling up with his nose tucked under a paw. “Or do you want to have the conversation over there? I’m good either way.”
“Sorry,” I sigh, moving to the sofa to sit beside my dog. “I’m not thinking very clearly tonight.”
“Okay. Tell me what’s going through that brilliant mind—maybe I can help.” He sits cross-legged on the floor in front of me, tall enough that we’re practically eye level. The longer I look into his hazel eyes, the more comfortable I get with the idea of opening up to him. Tyson is the deep end; I just need to take the plunge.
“I was jealous of one of my best friends tonight. It was one of the most awful things I’ve ever experienced,” I blurt, quick and sharp. He blinks, processing.
“Do you mean Isla?” he asks, his brow furrowing. I nod.
“Of Isla and me?”
“You’re so easy with them—Isla and Sadie.”
“Am I not easy with you? Because if I’m not, it’s only because you make me nervous.” He plays with the laces of my boot. It’s the first time I’ve seen him do something that reminds me of a coping mechanism I would employ myself. A focal point for anxious energy is what my grandmother would say.
“How do I make you nervous?” I ask, the thought never having crossed my mind before.
“Baby, by being you,” he says, resting his chin on my knee. “You don’t understand how great you are, Kit. Or how stunning. You make me feel like a teenager again, tripping over my feet to impress you, all while knowing I never could.”
“How is that even possible? I’ve seen the types of women you’ve been with. Beautiful, confident. Sexual,” I add. “I can’t compare.”
“You’re right, there is no comparison,” he says. “You outshine them all.”
“I don’t know how to believe that,” I say as my cheeks feel warm.Am I blushing?“I’d never felt jealous before, Tyson. It scared me.”
“I can understand that. It’s going to take time, Kit. For you to trust me, for you to see that I’m a loyal guy,” he says. “We have time.”
