44. Kaitlyn
FORTY-FOUR
Kaitlyn
AFTER TELLING RYAN THE SAME STORY I TOLD GRACE last night, I wait quietly for it to sink in. Ryan isn’t stupid but the TBI he suffered in the military makes processing information a slower process than he’d like and the frustration of it shows on his face.
“So, you and Went met in Montana, six years ago.” It’s not a question. It’s a re-statement of what I told him but I nod and answer him anyway.
“Yes. His older brother works as a ranch hand for my father. Went rented his hunting cabin for a few weeks. It was my job to keep it clean while he was there.” I don’t tell him that everything was my job when I lived with my father or that it was a punishment for all the things he lost and blamed me for.
Ryan gives me a look that reminds me of the last time I saw my brother, standing in the kitchen while I tried to minimize the hell that Brock had put me through while we were together. A look that says he knows there’s more than what I’m telling him. “So, you were his maid.”
“It wasn’t like that.” I shake my head. “He didn’t even want me there at first. He…” Sitting back with a sigh, I look out across the yard. “He was good to me. Looking back, probably better than I deserved.”
“And why did you leave him, again?”
The question yanks my attention away from the children playing in the yard and I look at him to find him giving me one of those flat smiles that tells me he understands more than I thought.
“Because he didn’t love me,” I say with a sigh that hopefully closes the subject, at least for now.
“How do you know?” he asks, head cocked slightly to the side. “Did he tell you that?”
“Well…” Taken aback, I shift away from him in my seat. “No, but?—”
“And he was good to you?” Ryan says, pressing me for answers. “Never made you do things you didn’t want to do. Never hurt you or used you.”
Anything, Sunshine. I’ll give you anything you want. All you have to do is ask.
“No,” I tell him quietly. “Never.” Looking away from him for a moment, I feel my chest tighten while I struggle to figure out a way to describe the way I felt when I was with Went. The way he made me feel. “Being with Went was the first time in my life that I ever felt free. He made me believe that I was capable of anything. That how I felt and what I wanted mattered.”
Ryan makes a flat, neutral sound in the back of his throat like he’s trying to decide if he believes me or not. Before I can press the point, he looks at me. “The two of you are having dinner tonight?”
“Yes…” Wincing slightly, I chew on my lower lip for a second. “I know you’ve been taking him a lot lately but do you think?—”
“Stop.” Now he frowns at me like I just spit on him. “Just because you’re not going to be my nurse anymore, that doesn’t mean we’re not…” Still frowning, he struggles to land on a new word to describe this new, undefined territory we find ourselves in. “We’re family. That means I’d do a hell of a lot more for you than watch your dog. We all would.”
“Okay.” Nodding, I struggle to breathe past the sudden tightness in my chest that seems to take over, every time one of them reminds me that I belong. Standing, I coil Mook’s leash and set it on the seat I just vacated. “Our reservations are at eight. I have no idea where we’re going but I’ll try to make it an early night.”
“He can sleep over.” Ryan says with a smirk that tells me he knows exactly how tonight is going to go, even if I don’t. “You can come get him tomorrow.”
“Thanks.” Giving him another nod, I start to back my way down the porch. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
After giving Mook some love on my way out, I walk back to the center where I spend the next several hours working the front desk, manning the phones and juggling Henley’s interview schedule. Most units are up and running and resident applications have been pouring in. Within a few months, this place will be full of veterans who’ll exchange living at the center for working here and in the community.
See, Kait. Maybe Ryan doesn’t need you anymore but there are other people here who will. Maybe you don’t have to leave, after all.
My phone buzzes in my desk drawer and I dive for it, rather than argue with myself over whether or not leaving Boston is the right thing to do. Pulling up my texts, I see that it’s a message from Went. Holding my breath, I take a quick look around to make sure I’m alone before I open it. Aside from a few people, filling out applications, a few more using the computer lounge, and a three-on-three basketball game on the indoor court, I’m alone. Holding my breath, I click through to Went’s text and find myself slightly disappointed when it’s just a message without an accompanying dirty picture.
Looks like Went isn’t the only pervert in this equation.
Went: I’ll be there to pick you up in an hour.
Looking at the clock on my phone, I see that it’s after six.
Shit.
Me: Okay, I’ll be ready.
Went: Everything I know about women’s fashion, I learned by force. I hope the dress and shoes are reservation worthy.
Me: They are. How’d you know my sizes?
Went: I asked Henley.
Smart. She’d know, considering I’m in her bridal party and it’s a safe bet she already knows everything since Conner figured it out.
Went: Is it weird that I’m nervous?
Reading his text, I feel my heart double tap against my chest because this is the Went I remember. The Went who was honest and open with me. The Went who wasn’t afraid to tell me the truth about the way he feels.
Me: No, it isn’t weird. I’m nervous too.
Went: Good.
After collecting clipboards from hopeful applicants and closing down my computer, I hurry upstairs to make good on my promise. I’ve never been great with make-up but after a quick shower, I manage to blow dry my hair before adding a little blush, mascara and lipstain. Thanks to Henley and the practice spa day she took her bridesmaids to last week, my fingernails and toes are painted, even though my hands are still rough from years of farm work.
Who cares? It’s not like you’re going to hold hands.
Looking at myself in the full-length mirror on the back of my closet door, I smooth my fingers over the slim, fitted skirt of the dress Went left for me. Even though he was smart enough to clip the price tag off before having it boxed, the label is designer. I know seeing how much it cost would’ve given me heart palpitations.
I don’t think it’s the price of the dress that’s giving you heart palpitations.
Turning away from the mirror, I take a quick look at the clock, just as there’s a knock on my front door.
It’s seven o’clock on the dot.
Grabbing my shoes off the bed, I hurry into the living room while a legion of butterflies take flight in my stomach, making me feel woozy and light-headed.
Seriously, Kait. You’ve let this man do things to you that you’d never even dreamed of before you met him. You can have dinner with him without passing out.
Even though I’m not entirely sure that’s true, I open the door, and nearly do just that.
Because holy shit.
I’m surrounded by gorgeous men all day long—I work for the Gilroys, after all—but none of them have ever effected me the way this man does. In nothing but a pair of sweats and a worn T-shirt, Wentworth Fiorella is easily the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen in my life. In a dark, custom-made suit, tattoos peeking past the cuffs and collar of his impeccably fitted dress shirt, he’s almost otherworldly.
Realizing that all I’m doing is standing here and staring at him while probably drooling, I hold up my shoes on a slightly flustered smile. “I still can’t walk in these.”
Giving me a crooked grin, Went reaches for my shoes while making his way through the open doorway. Shoes in hand, he gently pushes me back into the living room. “I’ll try to remember that for next time.” When the back of my knees hit the coffee table he gives me another nudge. “Sit.”
Like a prize poodle who wants treats, my ass hits the coffee table before even fully processing what he said.
Hunkering down in front of me, Went gives me a smirk. “I’m not going to get attacked by your guard dog if I touch you, am I?”
“No.” Fighting the shiver that shoots down my spine at the prospect of having his hands on me, I shake my head. “He’s not here. He’s having a sleep over with Molly.”
“Good to know,” he murmurs quietly before reaching out to run his hand along the back of my leg. Finger teasing across the sensitive skin behind my knee, he grips my calf and lifts my foot off the floor to slide it into one of my waiting shoes.
“Funny…” It comes out soft, more whimper than word, while he reaches for my other leg, caressing the back of it before lifting it off the ground. “You don’t seem nervous.”
“Don’t let the smirk fool you, Sunshine.” The look on his face suddenly grows serious. “I’m fucking terrified.”
Before I can say anything, Went drops my foot and stands. “Ready?” he asks, holding out his hand to help me up.
“Let me just grab my bag.” Dropping my hand into his, I nod. “I’ll be right back.” Taking a few teetering steps, I find my balance before making my way to my bedroom where I duck into the bathroom to do a final check in the mirror and spritz on some of the fancy perfume Henley gave me for my birthday a few months ago.
You can do this, Kait. It’s going to be just fine. Nothing you haven’t done before.
The last time Went took me to a fancy restaurant, it was for our two-week anniversary.
We never made it to dinner for our third.
Wrong thing to think about, right now. Just focus on getting through the next few hours. Everything is going to be fine.
Leaving the bathroom, I snatch the small, expensive black evening bag Went was thoughtful enough to include with the dress and the shoes, off my dresser. Making sure I have my debit card, emergency cash and my ID, I exit the bedroom, taking the short trip down the hall to find Went standing in front of the framed drawing of me and Two-tone, leaned against the wall where I intended to hang it.
On the coffee table between us, my bucket list notebook is open and turned to its most current page. Cheeks suddenly flush because I know it was closed before I went to grab my purse, I clear my throat and open my mouth while I try to find a plausible explanation for what I’m sure he read while he was snooping through my notebooks. Before I can find one, or possibly snipe at him for invading my privacy again, Went hears me and turns.
“We should go,” he says while flicking a dark, unreadable look in my direction before moving toward my still open front door. “If we’re late, I’ll never hear the end of it.”