Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Clover
Two weeks of married life had passed, but I’d been gone for the last few days.
Before I had left, Van and I had settled into a routine of pretending we slept alone on either side of the pillow wall, working at our respective workstations all day, and repeating it in the evening.
We’d been roommates, nothing more, and it had been pleasant.
So why had I slept like crap in the hotel room? Was it the stress? The training? It couldn’t have been the separation. Yet, why did making a pillow wall help me drift off as if I could pretend Van was on the other side and relax?
I never had an issue sleeping when my ex was gone.
I was back in Coal Haven now and shamelessly looking forward to a better night of sleep.
I turned into the driveway. The garage doors were open.
Van was outside of it, behind his pickup, putting together some sort of machinery.
He had a baseball hat on that shaded his face when he looked up.
His gaze softened when he saw me, and my belly came alive, and not in a morning sickness way.
I gave him the most awkward wave as I pulled in to park. My boobs had been tender all week, and now it was like they had their own heartbeat when his dark gaze met mine as I drove past.
When I got out, he was waiting at the back of my car. He pulled my suitcase out of the back seat. The denim at his ass clung tight, and wow, I’d never guess he sat at a desk all day.
Only he didn’t. The days we’d worked sort of side by side, he was in and out of his office. He’d pace the hallway or go outside for a short run. Any excuse to move, he seemed to use it. Meanwhile, I had to set an alarm to get my butt out of the chair for a break time.
“How was your stay?” he asked.
“Oh, you know. I’ll miss the Belgian waffles with the continental breakfast.”
“Do I have to add those to my rotation?”
“I won’t grumble if you do.”
Likewise, before we’d left, he’d also be in the kitchen, taking turns cooking like we had agreed.
The way we’d settled into the arrangement should be a red flag, a warning that this guy was different in a way that could make a girl fantasize if that girl had not been dumped in an embarrassing way in front of that guy.
I collected my water bottle and empty bag of chips from the front seat and followed him inside.
The ache in my boobs continued to make me hyperaware of them around him.
This was something I hadn’t dealt with before, but that was how every day was now.
He took my suitcase all the way to the bedroom.
I could stand at the end of the hallway and admire his long-legged swagger, but that would be too much.
He was my husband, and I… Gosh, had I missed him.
The days before I left had been nice. Calm.
He hadn’t nitpicked everything I did or questioned my choices.
Why hadn’t I realized that Elijah was a narcissist?
Anything related to me had been critiqued by him, and I hadn’t noticed.
My clothing and my cooking. My job, my big family, and what I drove.
Nothing was off-limits, but he had done it in a charming way that flew under the radar but chipped away at me.
Two weeks with Van, not all of the days under the same roof, and my eyes were opened.
In the kitchen, I dumped my water bottle out.
“How was your training?” he asked from behind me.
There. It was that. A simple question, and he sounded sincere, dammit. I set my water bottle down too hard. I was a smart woman, and I had let some guy demean me.
He came closer. “That bad?”
Frustrated, I pushed my hair back. I’d had it down for my training.
Straightened and professional. I faced him and leaned against the island.
“No. It was great. My position works on the geologic storage of carbon dioxide. We inject it into underground rock formations for permanent storage. It’s fascinating, and my background in remediation is actually appreciated because the company is looking at saline aquifer storage.
I get to learn new stuff and use my experience. ”
A divot formed between his brows as my volume increased. “That’s good, right?”
“It’s amazing—and I get paid twenty thousand more a year.
” I flung my hands out. “And the whole time I was gone, learning my new duties and new programs, I’d think about how relaxed I was.
Because I’m not going to go home to Elijah and field little comments like, ‘Wow, must be nice to play with rocks’ or ‘I managed more money than that entire company is worth before noon.’”
His expression turned aghast. “He would say that?”
“Every. Time.” I dropped my arms, and my hands slapped my thighs.
“How did I not see it? And here!” He jumped when my volume pitched up.
“You don’t make tiny complaints about my dry muffins or how wet I make the floor in the bathroom when I shower, or how dowdy my clothes are.
” I couldn’t believe I said that. I was standing in my black slacks, pink top, and ballet flats.
Something that had been deemed suitable by my ex—except for the lack of heels.
“Everyone was there in jeans, and I went to work in this. It’s all I packed.
Because my time with Elijah made me paranoid about how I looked. ”
I hugged myself. My pulse had notched up while I was ranting.
Van studied me. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Are you sure I won’t just blurt out all my personal information?”
The corner of his mouth kicked up. “It’s okay if you do. I won’t even flinch if you talk about your period.”
I barked out a laugh. “Don’t worry about that for eight more months.”
He chuckled. “Fair.” He rubbed his lower lip between his thumb and index finger. Was that his nervous move? No. It was his thinking pose. I’d seen him at his computer doing the same. “What was it about my brother? I know he’s decent-looking, but he’s toxic.”
I pondered my answer. Hadn’t I been asking myself the same thing?
Time to put it into words, and while Van wasn’t neutral, he was more objective than if I’d tried to discuss this with my siblings.
“He’s like radon.” Instead of scoffing at my personal way to describe it, he cocked his head.
“It comes from the breakdown of uranium, and the radiation works its way up through the soil and the foundation to our homes. But you won’t know it until it makes you sick, and even then, you won’t know what’s causing the problem.
I hadn’t gotten sick yet. It hit all at once when he left me for someone he just met.
Thankfully, I was saved from a possibly terminal diagnosis. ”
“That makes sense,” he said quietly. “He always was charming. Like a fancy house.”
“He was so charming. But I saw deeper. He’s arrogant, but he has a way of building people up when he’s not using them to feel better. And then there was the loneliness.”
Surprise lit his eyes. “The what?”
I nodded. He’d heard me; he just didn’t believe it. “Elijah was always looking to fit in. I thought that was behind his cockiness, but I think he was just afraid of not being included. Was he teased in school?”
His headshake was almost imperceptible. “I don’t know. He never talked about it. We weren’t close.”
I shrugged. He never discussed it with me either. “Well, whatever. The end result was the same, and it wouldn’t excuse how he treated me or what he did.”
“You’re right.” His gaze trailed down to my ballet flats and back up again. “Hungry?”
Did he like what he saw? It wasn’t how I normally dressed. Give me loose linen or sweats. “Yes. And I got paid, so I’m taking you out.”
He cocked a brown brow. “Me?”
“Yes. Have you been to Rattler’s yet?”
“The bar and grill?”
“It’s amazing. I go there each time I’m in town.” I raised my arms. “And now I live here.”
“Sounds like I need to try this Rattler’s place.”
Grinning, I pushed off the counter. “Let me change first.”
“I’ll get cleaned up.” He tugged on the hem of his grease-stained Huskers shirt. “I found an old mower in the shed.”
“Didn’t Jensen come by?”
“Yes, and I appreciate it. He seems cool. But it’s nice to get out of the office and be productive. I miss tinkering in my own home.” A shadow crossed his expression. “Meet you outside in ten?”
There was something about the tinkering and the home, but he wasn’t telling me. Disappointment filled me. Elijah must’ve done all the talking growing up. “It’s a date.” Horror washed cold through me. “I mean—not a date.”
His expression stayed neutral. “I’ll go clean up. You can have the bedroom first.”
When he left the kitchen, I sagged against the counter. Way to go, Clover.
Van
The restaurant was full. I liked it as soon as I walked in. The crowd was at ease, and the decor wasn’t ostentatious. Exposed wood beams lined the ceiling, and timber supports added to the rustic ambiance. Servers dressed in black polos and jeans rushed around.
Clover and I were put in a booth by the windows. She’d changed from her cute professional look to jean shorts and a shirt that said I Rock with a picture of a geode. Her toenails were still a light green, and I was glad to know I hadn’t missed a color.
A young server appeared at our table. “What can I get you?”
Clover smiled at her. “I’ll have the surf and turf with a sweet potato and cinnamon butter on the side.”
When it was my turn, I ordered the sirloin with a baked potato.
The server was about to walk away when Clover stuck her finger in the air. “Can you bring an order of mozzarella sticks? And extra buns?” she rushed to tack on, refusing to look in my direction.
When we were alone, Clover smiled sheepishly. She tore small lines into the edges of her napkin. “We can bring leftovers home.”