Page 28 of To Believe In You
The nighthe’d stolen the dump truck, Matt hadn’t heard the ice break, but the front right of the vehicle had dropped, and he’d scrambled out. Given the state he’d been in, he couldn’t explain how he’d processed the information and escaped. When he turned back, the truck had been gone, hunks of ice bobbing in the jagged black hole where the vehicle had been.
God could’ve let him go down then and there.
Keeping him around, rescuing him from that situation and the life he’d made for himself, had been a lot more trouble. Especially since Matt had gotten himself in plenty of other scrapes where he should’ve died too.
At least these days, he could tell when he was on thin ice and veering toward trouble.
Like now, with Lina.
He’d been falling for her, a little piece at a time. The first crack in the ice had been shallow—she was pretty. Then, he’d seen her concern for the bullied girl after the play. She stayed on top of things at Key of Hope, and she wrote clever captions and comments for Awestruck on social media. Not that he was following, reading her work, and hearing it in his head in her voice.
He’d been feeding this infatuation with her and, maybe if he were honest, with Awestruck. In either case, if he made a move for more, let his hopes rise any higher, he’d fall through the ice into the cold waters of rejection. He’d been clean for a year now, supposedly long enough that he could handle the ups and downs of a new relationship, but a time frame wouldn’t safeguard his sobriety—that would depend on his choices, and he didn’t have a history of making good ones.
He had been talking to his sponsor and attending meetings. No one had said he couldn’t handle what he’d taken on—with God’s help, of course—but they did say to take things easy. One step at a time.
If only Matt were a one-step-at-a-time kind of guy instead of a dump-truck-donut-on-thin-ice stuntman.
Telling her the story of the dump truck had been a weak attempt to scramble from the sinking vehicle. He’d wanted her face to harden with her familiar little frown. A cold reaction would’ve reminded him of her station and his own, shoring up his fracturing reserves.
But instead of the judgment he’d needed, she peered at him with something almost like … admiration?
Still, sticking with him through one story was far different from sticking with him when he messed up in real time.
This would end badly.
Her interest and understanding would reach their limits, and her rejection would plunge him into waters as icy and dangerous as those that swallowed the truck.
He lingered in the office anyway.
On her desktop, her phone vibrated with a call.
Lina jolted then snatched the phone with the same speed she might need to catch a trout with her bare hands. Instead of answering, she watched the screen.
Intrigue formed another shackle around his ankle, holding him in place.
The frown he’d wished for surfaced as she tossed the phone back on the desk.
Finding her displeasure aimed at someone else, Matt drew a step closer. “Bad news?”
“Oh.” She cringed. Her brown eyes, tinged with hints of green, first looked toward the door, then the window, then his arm, his neck, his eyes. Her confidence had been replaced with the guilt of a kid who’d been caught skipping school.
“I told you about the dump truck.” He waited. He was a glutton for punishment. Despite all the reasons she’d never think twice about him, never trust him, he had to back her into a corner and make her fight her way out.
Maybe then, he’d learn his lesson and have an easier time keeping his distance.
She’s your boss.
When pursuing her went south, he’d be both alone and unemployed.
“It …” She shook her head, and her forehead smoothed as the doubt and uncertainty cleared away. “It’s my ex.”
Ex-husband? Fiancé? Boyfriend? He didn’t ask.
“And what?” he said. “He doesn’t want to be an ex?”
She averted her eyes.
Time to cash in. Lina had no reason to talk to him, and if he pressed, she’d call his bluff and he’d lose the little progress he’d made in this interaction. Besides, if he had progressed toward anything, it was disappointment. “See you Monday.”
