Chapter 16 #2
“So don’t stop,” I say, trying to sound braver than I feel.
I honestly don’t know if I’m ready for this. I think I am, but it’s been…a while. I can admit to myself that I’m nervous if not a bit scared, but it’s Shepherd. He’s been nothing but kind to me and I trust him.
His gaze finally meets mine again and that makes it worse because the want is still there. It’s just restrained now.
“That’s exactly the problem.” His words are gentle. Careful. Like he’s explaining something to someone fragile and I hate that feeling.
“I thought you said everything was on my terms,” I say.
He nods slowly, a pained look on his face. “It is.”
“Then why are you backing away like I’m going to break?”
“I’m not backing away from you, Sutton.” He runs a hand through his damp hair, frustration flickering across his face. “I’m just…trying to respect you.”
The bathroom suddenly feels smaller, hotter, and a hell of a lot more confusing.
“I’m not asking for respect right now,” I say quietly.
Disrespect me all you want.
I just want you to touch me.
His expression softens in a way that somehow hurts even more.
“I know.” Another beat of silence stretches between us and then he steps toward the door. “But you deserve it regardless and I didn’t ask you to move in here so I could put the moves on you. I’m not that guy,” he says. “I’ll be in the house if you need anything. Anything at all.”
The distance between us feels enormous now. He pauses at the doorway and for a second it looks like he might say something else, but he doesn’t. He merely glances back one more time, the tiniest smile across his lips, and then he walks out.
The door closes behind him and I’m still standing here in the steam, staring at the empty doorway, my pulse racing like I just ran a mile.
A minute ago, I was certain he was about to kiss me.
A minute ago, I was picturing the two of us in this shower together soaking up the warm water while he held me.
I don’t know what just happened.
I look down at the oversized shirt hanging off my shoulders and my stomach twists.
Did I push too far?
Did I misread everything?
Am I not…not good enough?
Because a second ago the way he was looking at me felt like fire. But the way he walked away…that felt an awful lot like someone putting distance between us.
Like someone who doesn’t really want me for…me.
And suddenly the bathroom feels a lot colder than it did five minutes ago.
“He just walked away?” Mari’s voice rises in disbelief as she sets down her coffee mug with more force than necessary. “After all that?”
I’m slumped in the chair across from her behind the counter at Funky Junk, still feeling the sting of this morning’s rejection. After my shower—which was perfectly hot, damn it—I texted Mari and told her I was stopping by before my afternoon shift.
“Yep. Just…left.” I pick at the paper sleeve on my cup. “Like I was radioactive or something.”
Mari studies me, her head tilted. “And you were wearing his shirt? Just his shirt?”
“Yes, Mari,” I groan, dropping my forehead to the table. “I’ve established the scene. Me, practically naked. Him, shirtless. Steamy bathroom. Sexual tension you could cut with a knife. And then…nothing.”
“That doesn’t sound like nothing,” she says thoughtfully. “It sounds like he was being respectful.”
I lift my head to glare at her. “Since when is rejection respectful?”
“Since always?” Mari raises an eyebrow. “Sutton, honey, that man is trying so hard to be a gentleman it’s painful to watch.”
I give her a flat look. “If he was trying to be a gentleman, he could have at least given me a gentle letdown. Not just…walked away. He didn’t even kiss me and it’s not like we haven’t kissed before.”
Mari leans forward, her eyes serious. “Nina, listen to me. That man wanted you. I could feel it through your description alone. But he’s being careful with you.”
“I don’t need careful,” I whine, though even I can hear the lie in my voice.
“Everyone needs careful sometimes,” she says softly. “Especially when they’ve been handled roughly before.”
Her words hit a nerve I wasn’t prepared to expose. I take a sip of my coffee to hide whatever my face is doing. “He doesn’t know about my past.”
“Maybe he doesn’t know all the details of what you’ve gone through but he’s perceptive enough to know that you have, in fact, gone through something.
Something that has you guarded more often than not.
Something that has kept you from accepting him completely.
And I’m not saying any of that is a bad thing.
Solid relationships take time. They don’t have to happen immediately. ”
“Maybe,” I admit reluctantly. “But it just felt like…like he changed his mind. Like he saw me standing there and decided ‘You know what? Nah.’“
Mari laughs—like straight up belly laughs—and I fight the urge to throw my napkin at her. “Oh, Sutton. For someone so smart, you can be so dense sometimes.”
“Thank you very much.”
“He didn’t change his mind about wanting you.” She reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “He changed his mind about the timing,” Mari continues, her voice gentle but firm. “There’s a difference.”
I slump back in my chair, unconvinced. “Then why did he look at me like that? Like he wanted to devour me whole?”
“Because he probably did want to,” Mari says, stirring her coffee thoughtfully. “But wanting something and acting on it are two different things, especially for someone who seems as controlled as your quarterback.”
“He’s not my quarterback,” I mutter automatically.
Mari gives me a look that could wither plants. “You’re living on his property and wearing his clothes. You literally wanted to fuck him in the shower a couple hours ago. Like it or not, he’s your quarterback.”
I can’t help the small laugh that escapes me. “That sounds like a terrible sitcom.”
“I’d watch it.” Mari winks. “Look, what happened this morning doesn’t mean he doesn’t want you. It probably means he wants you too much to rush it.”
“Or maybe he’s realized I’m more trouble than I’m worth,” I say, voicing the fear that’s been gnawing at me all morning. “I mean, I’ve been nothing but difficult since day one.”
She gives me a pointed look. “Sutton, when a man walks away from a nearly naked woman he’s clearly attracted to, it’s not because he doesn’t want her.”
“Then what is it?”
She takes a sip of her coffee. “It’s because he respects her enough to wait until the moment is right. Until she’s sure.”
I roll my eyes. “I was pretty damn sure this morning.”
“Were you though?” Mari tilts her head. “Or were you just caught up in the moment? Standing there in his shirt, both of you half-dressed ogling each other like a couple of horny teenagers?”
The question lands harder than I want it to. Was I sure? My stomach twists as I remember how quickly everything escalated, how my body responded to his nearness before my brain could catch up.
“I don’t know,” I admit quietly. “Maybe not.”
“Exactly.” Mari’s expression softens. “And Shepherd seems to understand that. I think he’s giving you space to be certain, not just reactive.
You’ve said before he keeps reminding you that you don’t owe him anything.
I’m sure he didn’t want it to look like he was asking for payment for fixing your shower. ”
“When did you become such a Shepherd expert?” I grumble.
Mari gives me a patient smile. “I’m not. I’m a people expert. And I’ve seen enough men in my life to know the difference between someone who’s not interested and someone who’s trying to be careful with your heart.”
I stare into my coffee cup like it’s a magic eight ball about to give me a secret message. “Maybe.”
“Just think about it from his perspective,” Mari continues, leaning forward.
“You’ve been through a lot. You’ve been skittish about getting close to him.
And now suddenly you’re standing there in his shirt, basically inviting him in.
He probably doesn’t want to take advantage of a vulnerable moment. ”
“I wasn’t vulnerable,” I protest, but the words sound hollow even to my own ears.
“Weren’t you?” Mari raises an eyebrow. “New place, cold shower, borrowed clothes? That’s a lot of vulnerability for someone who likes control as much as you do.”
I open my mouth to argue but close it just as quickly. She’s right, and we both know it.
“Fine,” I mutter. “So, what am I supposed to do now?”
“That depends.” Mari studies me over the rim of her mug. “What do you actually want from him?” The question hangs in the air between us, deceptively simple yet impossibly complex.
What do I actually want from him?
“I…” My voice trails off as I realize I don’t have a ready answer. “I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do,” Mari says, her eyes softening. “You’re just afraid to admit it.”
I fiddle with my coffee cup, turning it in circles on the table. “Fine. I like him. A lot. More than I should.”
“And why shouldn’t you?”
“Because he’s…” I gesture vaguely with my hand, trying to encompass everything that Shepherd Haynes is. “He’s him. And I’m me. And those two things don’t usually go together in the real world.”
Mari leans back in her chair, studying me. “You know what your problem is?”
“Please, enlighten me,” I say dryly.
“You’ve already decided how this story ends. You’ve convinced yourself it can’t work before you’ve even given it a chance to begin.”
Her words hit me like a slap. I open my mouth to argue, then close it again. “I’m just being realistic,” I finally say.
“Realistic?” Mari scoffs, waving her hand dismissively. “What’s realistic about deciding someone is too good for you before they’ve even had a chance to prove otherwise?”
I wince. Her words cut deeper than I want to admit.
“Look,” she continues, her voice softening, “that man gave you keys to his house, Sutton. His house. He gifted you an heirloom teacup because he knows you collect broken things. He offered you a car because he doesn’t want you stranded.
” She leans forward, eyes intent on mine.
“Those aren’t the actions of someone who’s just being nice.
Those are the actions of someone who sees you and cares about you. ”
My throat tightens. “That’s what scares me.”
“Why?”
“Because what if he sees too much?” The words tumble out before I can stop them. “What if he sees all of me and realizes I’m not what he thought I was?”
Mari reaches across the table and takes my hand.
“Then he wasn’t the right person. But sweetie, what if he sees all of you and stays anyway?
What if he sees the broken pieces and loves them too?
What if he stands right beside you while you put yourself back together rather than trying to fix you or change you on his own? ”
I stare down at our joined hands, my vision blurring with unshed tears. It’s the question I’ve been avoiding, the hope I barely dare to entertain.
“I don’t know how to do this,” I whisper.
“No one does,” Mari says with a gentle smile. “That’s the point. You figure it out together.”
I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “What if I mess it up?”
“You probably will. He probably will too. That’s how relationships work.” She squeezes my hand. “The question is whether you’re willing to try anyway.”