Chapter 4
Natalie
“Your favorite patron is here.” Kathy popped her head around the corner to the back room where I was working. She raised her eyebrows at me and pointed towards the front door with her chin.
“Subtle,” I muttered.
“As if you didn’t want to know.”
“Yeah, fair enough.” I straightened my skirt, gave my boobs a little encouragement to perk up, and made my way to the front.
I wasn’t on desk duty today, so I made myself seem busy by looking through a cart of books.
Looking for what exactly? An excuse to see him.
I’d been helping Jake at least once a week for over a month now, and it had been a few weeks since our impromptu coffee date.
Every time he came to the front desk, he asked for me.
We talked and laughed and flirted. We discussed the books I had recommended to him at first but then we’d slip into talking about hobbies and friends.
Every time he asked about my weekend plans, I held my breath, sure he was finally going to ask me out.
The invite never came.
Still, I remained optimistic. There was a connection between us that I knew we both felt.
“Hey, Natalie.”
I jerked my head up as if I hadn’t been tracking every step of his boots as he walked across the library floor.
Ugh, he was wearing blue. He looked sexy in every color but there was something about a deep navy blue that set off his dirty blond hair.
It was warm out for late September, and he was in short sleeves.
Grease-streaked forearms and biceps on full display.
I’d be the first to admit that I was a full-fledged girly girl.
My nails were always done. I could wing my eyeliner on the first try and dresses with heels were my uniform.
So why did the idea of having his tanned and dirty skin leave smudges all over me keep me up at night?
Why did the hero from every romance novel I’d read in the last month look suspiciously like Jake?
“Back for more?”
“Actually, I was hoping we could take a walk.” It was only then that I noticed he had a tray with two cups in his hand. He handed one to me. “Chai latte with a shot of vanilla, right?”
That was right. Going for a walk with a man I barely knew was normally a hell no.
It was the bad decision the character made in every horror movie.
But this was Jake. I knew him. I told him things I didn’t even talk to my mom about.
Besides, he had coffee. I would happily climb into the back of a nondescript white van for caffeine some days.
“Kathy, Gwen, I am going to take my lunch break.” My palms were a little sweaty as we headed out the front door and I was grateful for the cup just to have something to do with my hands.
We walked onto a path in the park across the street from the library and strolled along.
The leaves were starting to turn but the sun was shining and there was a hint of a breeze.
We stopped at the first picnic table we came to.
He sat on the edge, facing me but not meeting my eye.
He looked tired. I wanted to ask him what was wrong.
To know why he had invited me to talk away from our usual spot.
I wanted to rub his shoulder and tell him that whatever was wrong I would help him fix it.
I bit back my impulses and stayed quiet.
Whatever was on his mind, he would tell me in his own time.
“I’ve been having a hard time with something.
” His voice was low and directed at the ground.
“I don’t really feel like I can talk to the guys at the shop about it, and I don’t want to worry my parents.
I could use a friend to talk to right now and when I was thinking of who I knew would listen, I thought of you. ”
Okay, not going to cry. I reached out for his hand, and he let me squeeze it.
His hands were big and warm in mine, rough and workworn.
He squeezed it back for just a second before standing up and pacing away a few steps.
“I- This isn’t right, I shouldn’t be dumping this on you. We don’t even know each other.”
“Hey, come back and talk to me.” My eyes were wide and there was a hint of desperation in my voice.
He didn’t move closer, but he did turn to face me.
“I see hundreds of people a week. You’re not just one of them.
Whatever reason you felt like you could talk to me, I feel that about you too.
” He stayed frozen so I went on. “I vented to you that day at the coffee shop, remember? You let me rant, you listened to every word. Let me do the same for you.”
His shoulders relaxed and he finally met my eyes.
“Just talk to me.”
He pulled his hat off and ran his hand through his hair. It stuck up in adorable little ducktails and I wished I could reach out and smooth it down, run my fingers through it. He forced out a breath. “I haven’t been completely honest with you.”
Despite myself, a wall went up inside me.
I’d been on the receiving end of a few too many lies to not react.
Part of being a people pleaser was taking people at their word.
I thought the best of people instinctively and didn’t ask too many questions.
That had landed me with a broken heart more than once.
I’d be staring down the big 4-0 in a few years and I was still single.
I didn’t want this to make me jaded but on some level it did.
Still, I bit the inside of my cheek and let him keep going.
“I told you I wanted the books as a distraction since I work a lot of hours. It isn’t the monotony I need a distraction from, it’s the job itself.”
I rolled the words around in my head, trying to understand what he was saying and coming up with nothing.
He directed his eyes to the ground again and went on. “It’s a good job and everything. I like the driving part. I like getting physical and using my hands and figuring out problems and helping people.”
“Okay, so what’s the problem?”
“There’s a darker side to the job that a lot of people don’t think about.
When an accident happens there are first responders, right?
Cops, paramedics, firefighters. Often, we’re there too.
Picking up the pieces after a tragedy. I arrive at a scene and the cops tell me it was a fatality.
I go to tow the car and see Christmas presents on the back seat.
Or a car seat or a little stuffed bunny and I know that someone’s life was ruined that day.
Someone was on their way to Christmas dinner or home to their kid and never made it.
” He rolled his shoulders like he was trying to relieve an ache.
“I’m not sure if I can do another season of this. Mentally I mean. I just can’t.”
Here I thought the worst of the guy when he was struggling. Really struggling. He collapsed onto the picnic table, and I sat beside him, taking his hand again.
“Sorry, I kind of just unloaded all that on you.” He gave a self-deprecating laugh.
I shook my head. “I’m glad you did. Jake, you need to talk to someone about this. Burnout among first responders is no joke.”
“Talk to someone? You mean like therapy?” He said the word like it tasted bad.
“Yeah, or a counselor. Someone to help you sort through all of this. It isn’t just the kind of thing you see in old movies, there are lots of resources and new research for this type of thing.
” He traced his thumb distractedly over the back of my hand.
I felt like I was becoming his safe space and the realization was humbling.
“This isn’t something that will solve itself.
I don’t think you can just ignore this and expect it to go away. ”
He exhaled hard; his gaze fixed on where our hands were joined together on my lap. “I can’t afford it. The company I work for is pretty small. We have medical benefits, but they don’t cover anything like that. That must cost what a hundred bucks a session?”
“A hundred and fifty easily.”
He shook his head.
An idea formed in the back of my mind, and I dismissed it. I tried anyway. Whether it was my innate need to help people or the way the weight of his hand felt in mine, I blurted out what I was thinking. “My benefits would cover it.”