Page 62 of The Holiday Grump
Her blush intensified, and her gaze briefly dipped to my lips.
“I will try to control my curiosity,” she said, her voice a little husky. “I’ve learned my lesson.”
“What lesson was that?”
“That… I tend to freak you out.”
Freak me out?
“What do you mean?” I felt defensive.
Her eyes widened in panic. “No! I meant I tend to say the wrong thing. And do the wrong thing. Like I’m doing right now. My brain’s not quite right.”
She looked alarmed, like she’d done something unforgivable and had to atone for it. Which, again, made no sense.
I gathered our dishes to put them away, joining her bythe sink. She looked at me like she didn’t know whether to flee or cry, and my chest ached. I grabbed her hands to make sure she stayed. “You haven’t done anything wrong, Noelle. I struggle with change, but that’s my issue. I’m the fucked-up one here, not you.”
The tears glistening in her eyes instantly spilled over, and I felt my own misting in response. “Who’s told you these lies?” I asked. “Who said your brain’s not right? Because I think you’re incredibly smart and capable, and you haven’t said half the nonsense most people spew on a daily basis.”
Her words came out between sniffs and hiccups. “I ask insensitive questions… I can really kill the mood… and embarrass people. Spencer would be giving me thislook,and I knew I’d done it again.”
Okay. Something was finally making sense. In the absence of napkins, I handed her a kitchen towel. She didn’t need my help with it, but I wanted so desperately to keep touching her that my hands lingered, tucking strands of her hair behind her ears and using my thumb to catch wayward tears. She didn’t push me away.
“I know I’m no picnic,” I said. “But this Spencer guy sounds like a gaslighting sociopath.”
She looked up, confused. “Why would you say that?”
I let go of her face and took a step back. “It’s a way to control someone. Make them feel like they’re failing and pose as their savior.”
“But… You’ve never even met Spencer! And I’ve already madeyouuncomfortable multiple times. Why would you assume there’s something wrong withhim?”
“Well… the gossip seems to be flowing freely in one direction here because I’ve seen that article where he talked about you like stolen property. And it seems you’re willing to suffer nearly anything, including living illegally at the back of a tiny store, to avoid going back to Bangor and facing him, right? A guy like that can’t be good news.”
She stared at the stove, frowning. “I’m not scared of him. But I don’t want to face everyone. It’s too awkward.”
I saw the way her shoulders stiffened. Shewasscared. A lot more scared than she wanted me to know.
“Maybe you should be a little scared of him,” I said softly. “It sounds like he’s looking for you.”
A visible shudder went through her, and she grasped the edge of the counter. “It’s okay. I’ll get back out to sea. He’ll never find me.”
My throat felt tight. My hand hovered in the air, desperate to touch her. “You can’t live like that.”
Her eyes were defiant. “Sure, I can. I like it.”
She was lying to herself.
“You like being stuck in a floating hotel, occasionally sleeping with the fat, old pirate because of ship goggles?”
She smiled. “Yes. He’s an excellent lover. He always takes off his hook before he handles my… business.”
“That’s considerate. Not mauling a woman is a sign of a great lover. Does he also shower?”
She laughed, but as her amusement fizzled out, her voice turned pensive. “I never slept with anyone on the ship. I only worked. It’s great because you don’t have to think. Everything is scripted, and you know exactly where to be at any given time. You just follow the program. But it’s also tiring and monotonous, and I feel like…”
“Like what?”
“Like I’m not really home. I’m not even fully alive, you know? I’m existing in a vacuum.”
