10. Poppy
10
Poppy
K urt places his hand on my knee, and my stomach lurches in fear. It was enough of a shock to come home and find Mr. Mathers here when I was sure he’d be at work, but to see Kurt standing in the kitchen… I nearly fainted in fright.
How did he know where to find me?
“…and it makes sense for us to be together, you know?” Kurt is prattling on about something, but I can barely hear him over the roar of adrenaline in my ears. I tried to ask Mr. Mathers to stay as he stormed past me in the hall, but I couldn’t get the words out when I saw the look on his face. Of course, he doesn’t want to deal with Kurt’s shit. He’s already sick of mine.
“What do you think, babe?” Kurt’s hand inches further up my thigh, and my gut twists.
What would Mr. Mathers do if I called out to him? He’d come help, right?
“Uh, I don’t think…” My voice lodges in my throat as I try to wriggle away from Kurt.
“Then I’ll do the thinking for us,” Kurt says, his lips curling in a smug smile, as if he’s somehow won. “I got your favorite flowers.”
I look at the lilies wilting on the counter, and frown. They’re not my favorite, actually.
“Come on, babe.” Kurt’s tone has an edge of impatience to it as his grip tightens on my leg.
Something happens to me, then. Sheer indignation somehow pierces through the fear, and I shoot to my feet. How dare he show up here? He must have hacked my email again. That’s the only thing I can think of. How dare he do that to me? How dare he think he can just swan in here with a bunch of shitty lilies and somehow erase all the hurt—all the damage—he’s caused over the years? How dare he even contact me at all?
I refuse to let this defeat me.
“Please leave,” I say, finally finding my voice.
He rolls his eyes, as if I’m being melodramatic. “Don’t say that. We’re good together.”
I scoff in disbelief. “You made me miserable. You manipulated me, you stole from me—”
“Oh for God’s sake,” he mutters. “Calm down. You know things weren’t that bad.”
I grit my teeth at his words. He’s doing it again—telling me something I know isn’t true. Making me question myself.
Gaslighting , Bailey called it.
Squaring my shoulders, I point to the door. “You need to leave, Kurt.”
“I don’t think you really mean that,” he replies, reaching for my hand before I can yank it away. He tugs me toward him and the room spins. “I think what you really want is—”
There’s a sound on the stairs and Mr. Mathers appears in the room, his brow set low in a scowl. My stomach plunges at the fury on his face, and for a moment I think it’s directed at me.
But relief trickles through me when he growls, “Get your hands off her.”
Kurt turns to Mr. Mathers, but he doesn’t loosen his grip. “We’re fine here, thanks.”
“I don’t think you are.” Mr. Mathers takes a menacing step toward Kurt, who tries not to flinch, but I see the flicker of uncertainty on his face before he quickly schools it. “I’m pretty sure she told you to leave.”
“Come on,” Kurt says, giving Mr. Mathers a look that says bitches be crazy , as if Mr. Mathers will find some shared camaraderie in this and back down. “She’s being completely unreasonable.” This is typical Kurt. He makes me look like the unstable one, and everyone starts to question me. Meanwhile, I get more and more worked up at the injustice of it, but to everyone else it simply looks like Kurt is right.
But he’s not right. I know that now.
Mr. Mathers gives a small snort of amusement, and I glance at him, panic detonating in my chest. Is he buying this? If he sides with Kurt now, what will I do?
I’ve never missed Bailey and Dean more than at this moment.
“Actually, I think it’s you who’s being unreasonable.” Mr. Mathers’s voice is calm and low, which makes it more unsettling than if he was yelling. “You lied about being Poppy’s boyfriend to get inside the house. You stood in my kitchen, lying to my face.”
I suck in a jagged breath. How does he know Kurt lied? He must have called Bailey.
The fear that’s coiled tight in my stomach slowly begins to dissipate as I take in the hard line of Mr. Mathers’s jaw. He’s not buying Kurt’s shit.
I could cry with relief.
“Now I’ll tell you again, since you didn’t seem to hear it when Poppy told you,” Mr. Mathers says in that low voice. “You need to leave.”
Kurt drops my hand, less out of fear of Mr. Mathers and more out of annoyance that he’s being challenged, but as I take in the two men, staring each other down, it’s abundantly clear that Mr. Mathers could take Kurt in a fight. No contest. In fact, seeing the two men side-by-side makes it hard for me to even remember what it was I found physically attractive about Kurt.
“Or what?” Kurt taunts.
Mr. Mathers’s jaw could shatter concrete. “Or I’ll call the police.”
Kurt smirks, apparently not at all bothered by this proposition. “You won’t,” he says coolly, and my mouth opens in shock. I’ve seen him do some dubious shit in my time, but Mr. Mathers is not a guy you talk back to.
I swallow, wondering what Mr. Mathers will say in response. My heart jumps as he grinds his fist into his palm, and any lingering fear I had about Kurt evaporates. Mr. Mathers won’t let me get hurt. I’ve never had a guy stand up for me like this before, and it’s an odd feeling. I’ve had them use me, for their own pleasure and amusement—see exhibit A, Kurt—but never defend and protect me like this. While I’m sure it’s not his intention, my attraction to Mr. Mathers skyrockets exponentially.
But I don’t have time to dwell on that, because Kurt takes a step toward him, making my pulse scatter. Is Kurt really stupid enough to try to fight him?
“You’re right,” Mr. Mathers says, taking me by surprise. “I won’t call the cops, because then I’d have to explain why I’ve broken every bone in your body.” He lunges for Kurt who ducks out the way just in time, backing toward the door.
“Jesus, okay, I’ll go.”
“Don’t show your fucking face here ever again, got it?”
There’s no reply from Kurt as the front door slams shut behind him. I stare at Mr. Mathers in shock, and it’s not until he turns to me, his eyes wide with worry, that I crumple and fold into myself on the sofa, trembling, as tears press at my eyes. I don’t want to fall apart in front of Mr. Mathers, but Kurt was here—he was here —and if Mr. Mathers hadn’t been here too… God, I don’t even want to think about it.
“Shit, Poppy.” Mr. Mathers sinks onto the sofa beside me. He hesitates for a second, then lifts a tattooed arm around my shaking shoulders. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know who he was.”
“It’s— He’s—” I attempt between sobs.
“Shh, I know. I’m so, so sorry.”
Without thinking, I turn into the warmth of his chest and press my face there, letting my tears soak into the soft, worn fabric of his T-shirt. His hand strokes up and down my back as I cry, and a feeling of calm washes over me. A feeling of… I can’t even begin to describe it, but in this moment, I don’t want anyone else holding me.
When I pull myself together, I notice the smell of him, the combination of sweat and deodorant and earth. I inhale a lungful to steady myself, as the shock of what happened with Kurt gives way to embarrassment. What am I thinking, clinging to Mr. Mathers and crying?
I draw away, wiping my hot cheeks, unable to meet his gaze. “I’m sorry,” I mumble, but a finger under my chin tilts my face to his.
“You have nothing to apologize for.” His amber eyes, fierce with concern, search mine. “I should have figured out who he was sooner. Bailey… Bailey explained everything.”
I grimace, turning away. What must he think of me?
“It’s abuse, Poppy,” he says quietly, and I glance at him in surprise. That’s what Bailey has always maintained, too. “You’ve done nothing wrong. He’s a monster.”
His words pierce something in my chest, and I fight the urge to lean back into his arms and bawl again. Here I was worrying Mr. Mathers might buy Kurt’s bullshit, or might think I was foolish to fall for it like most people do, but he doesn’t see it that way. He sees it for what it is.
With a deep inhale, I wipe my face clean and straighten up. Seeing Kurt was a shock, but I won’t let it ruin my day. He’s gone, and I’m safe. Instinctively, I touch the lotus tattoo inside my wrist, reminding myself of my strength.
And, with sudden jubilation, I remember I got a new job! At least that’s one thing off my mind. I twist my hands in my lap, wanting to ask Mr. Mathers for more time before moving out. With this job I have the chance to save enough for a decent deposit, and that could mean getting my own place. That would mean not having to move in with someone I don’t know and trust.
But it would also mean Kurt could find me again, and that thought fills me with dread.
As if reading my mind, Mr. Mathers says, “I don’t want you to move out.”
I shake my head, looking down at my hands. “I… I said I would, and you need your space.”
“It’s an adjustment, getting used to having a young woman around,” he admits, focusing on picking lint off a couch cushion. “But I’m more than happy to adjust. You’re Bailey’s friend, and you’re welcome here.”
I shift my weight, considering this. The truth is, I haven’t felt welcome, but this conversation with Mr. Mathers reminds me of the way he spoke to Marty in the garden. It’s that compassionate side he rarely shows.
“Are you… are you sure?”
He gives a firm nod. “Absolutely. And if you’re here…” he trails off, his forehead lining self-consciously, as if he doesn’t know how to phrase what he’s going to say next. “Look, I know you can handle yourself. You were already telling Kurt to leave. But… I think it might be safer for you to stay with me for a while. He won’t show up here anytime soon, and if he does, I’ll kick his ass.”
A watery smile slides onto my lips. I’d quite like to see that, actually.
“But what about…” How do I explain the way things have felt so awkward between us, the way I’ve felt the need to avoid him? I can’t exactly tell him I’ve got the hots for him, can I? And as for his irritation with me being here…
“We’ll have to get better at being around each other,” he says, back to intently inspecting the cushion. There’s a hint of pink in his cheeks that’s hard to read, and when he looks back at me, his mouth pulls into a self-effacing smile. “I’ll stop being such a moody bastard.”
This makes me laugh, and it’s such a good feeling, shaking the remaining tension from my body. He seems pretty insistent that I stay, and I’m not going to lie, I feel safer here than anywhere else. Even now that Kurt knows I’m here, I’m sure Mr. Mathers is right. He won’t show up here again.
And if he does… is it wrong that I almost want him to, so I can watch Mr. Mathers put him in his place? And break every bone in his body. Would he really do that?
“Okay,” I murmur, “but I need to start paying rent.”
“No, you don’t.”
Great. Bailey told him about the money, too.
“I just—”
“I mean it, Poppy. I don’t need rent. Whatever money you’re making now, save that for yourself. Save it for your own place…” His brow creases here, as he adds, “In the future.”
“I’ll cook, then,” I say. “You probably cook a lot for yourself…”
“I do,” he admits, “though I’m so busy in summer—”
“Perfect.” I smile, pleased we’ve agreed. “Then I’ll cook while I’m here.”
His mouth curls into a grin, but I can tell he’s trying to fight it. “I won’t say no to that, but you don’t have to.”
I reach out, placing a hand on his tattooed forearm before I can think better of it. “I want to.”
He opens his mouth as if to protest, but I think he can tell how important this is to me. “Okay,” he says at last. “If that will make you feel better, then thank you.”
My gaze falls to where my hand rests on the ink of his arm. Intricate roses and leaves and vines twine across thick, corded muscle, and I absently trail a finger over one, tracing it. Mr. Mathers sucks in a sharp breath, and I yank my hand away as if I’d touched fire.
“Sorry,” I mutter. “It’s… the design is…” I shake my head, my cheeks flaming. He’ll ask me to leave. I know it.
But he studies the ink on his skin, tracing his own finger where mine had been. “It’s for my mom,” he murmurs. “Her name is Rose.”
My heart does something funny, something between a hop and a sigh. He got roses tattooed on his arm because of his mom ? God almighty. How did I think this man didn’t have a soft side?
I swallow, looking away. “That’s sweet.”
He’s quiet for a beat before asking, “Why aren’t you at work?”
I slide him a wry smile. “I could ask you the same thing.”
“Lunch break. I was working on a site nearby.”
I cringe. “Sorry it turned into such a shitshow. You probably can’t wait to get back.” I expect him to laugh, but he shakes his head, eying me carefully.
“I won’t go back today.” He doesn’t say why, but I get the sense it’s to be here, in case… I don’t know, but I’m grateful.
“Well, I got all the way to my job in Sugar Hill this morning, only for my manager to tell me I no longer had a job. They’ve cut all my shifts.”
“Oh, shit.”
“Yeah. But then…” I chuckle at the synchronicity of this. “I ran into this barista at Joe’s, and she offered me a job there.”
Mr. Mathers’s eyebrows spring up. “That’s great! You couldn’t ask for a shorter commute.”
“True,” I agree, a warm sensation bubbling through me at his enthusiastic response. This morning has been such a roller coaster, but as I sit on the couch, chatting amiably with Mr. Mathers, I can’t help but smile. I’ve got a new job, and he’s made it clear he wants me to stay. More important than any of that is the knowledge that Kurt can’t hurt me, not as long as I’m here.
And for the first time in over a week, I relax.