Chapter 8
Winnie flinched with the ping-ding-dong of the doorbell. Every time that happened, she got thrown back in time to when Carver had rung her bell, waited on the front steps of a house very much like this one, and told her terrible, awful, no-good things.
“It’s not Carver,” she told herself, though her pulse had already driven her adrenaline toward the roof. “You’re not in that house anymore. You don’t even live in Oklahoma.”
She looked into her own eyes in the mirror in her bathroom, ran her fingers through her loose curls one more time, and marched herself out of the bedroom and on down the hall.
Still, once something as scarring and life-changing as what Carver had done to her happened to a person, something as simple as a doorbell could cause all kinds of fight or flight reflexes.
Things like that changed a person, and Winnie had never felt so out of control as she did in that moment, going to answer the door and expecting to see another cowboy standing there.
After all, she’d been expecting Carver too.
They were supposed to be going to pick up his tux from the tailor the day he’d ended things with her.
Winnie made it into the living room and paused as she faced the still-closed front door. Her breath shook in her lungs as she inhaled, and she dang near choked on it. I am not that woman, she recited to herself. This is not Carver.
A couple of knocks landed on the wood. “Winnie, sweetheart, it’s me. I know I’m early, but I figured it would be okay.”
The sound of Ty’s voice, even muted through the door, got her feet moving again. She practically ran to the door, her skin-tight jeans pulling along her calves as she did. Winnie yanked open the door, and she had no idea what Ty would see when he looked at her.
A panicking mess of a female? Most likely.
Someone he couldn’t get along with no matter how hard he tried?
Oh, come on, she thought through the chaos in her head. You guys got along fine at last night’s potluck.
Even though Ty had voted for the German chocolate brownies, which so weren’t as good as the mint ones, Winnie still liked him.
“Hey,” Ty said. “Are you okay?”
Winnie realized she wasn’t breathing, and she sucked at the air. “I don’t know,” she gasped out, one hand reaching for the doorframe to anchor her.
Ty stepped up and into the house. “All right, well, hold onto me, because you look like you’re about to fall over.” He encircled her in his arms, bringing her flush against his chest and holding her there.
Winnie’s arms did the natural thing—they went around him and clutched him tightly too.
“Shh-shh-shh,” he went, making soft noises with his mouth. “You’re okay, Winnie-girl. I got you.” He backed her up a slow step at a time until he could get the front door closed, and that broke the spiral Winnie had fallen into.
After all, Carver had not entered the house on that fateful date in February.
Winnie stepped back, pure foolishness now filling her. “S—Sorry,” she said. Her hands flitted about, touching her cheek—that felt too hot—and then sliding through her hair. She’d probably ruined the curls by now, and she had no idea how to explain what had just happened to Ty.
He said nothing, and several seconds clicked by while Winnie continued to calm down. She finally managed to take a breath and get her thoughts to quiet, and she looked up and met his gaze.
He gave her the most perfect thing in the whole world—a smile. “There you are.”
“I…I guess I did get lost there for a second.”
“Nervous about going out with me?” he asked, his voice low in both volume and pitch, almost like he was trying not to scare her.
“A little,” she admitted. She spun on her heel and picked up her purse from the end of the credenza. As she faced him again, she decided to rely on her mouthiness—something she’d blamed herself for in the past.
“When my fiancé came to break up with me,” she said. “It was only six days before our wedding date.” She gestured to the door behind him. “He rang the doorbell, and I knew there was something wrong the moment I opened the door.”
Ty’s smile faded into that trademark frown that drew his eyebrows down and in.
“He was already packed. Truck idling. He said he didn’t love me and couldn’t marry me. And then he just left.” She snapped her fingers and told herself she wasn’t the problem. After another breath, she calmed even more, found her center, and this time, casually brushed her hair back off her face.
“When something like that happens, every time the doorbell rings, my heart stops for a moment.”
Ty took a step toward her and reached out one hand. His fingers brushed hers in a non-verbal way of saying I’m sorry, Winnie.
“I made it to the door, but I don’t know. I was in full panic-mode by then,” she said.
“Have you ever not made it to the door?” he asked.
“Yes,” she admitted. “I’ve ignored the doorbell many times in the past ten months.”
His eyes came up from where he’d been watching her hand, the tips of his fingers just barely playing with hers. “This only happened ten months ago?”
“Almost eleven,” she said. Her chest finally loosened, and she felt like sagging to the floor. “I’m sorry. I’ve started this date out all wrong.” She turned away from him and redeposited her purse on the TV cabinet. “We don’t have to go to dinner.”
“Why wouldn’t we go?” Ty pressed in close behind her, his right hand sliding down her bicep, over her elbow, and along her forearm to her fingers.
He took them fully into his now, his left hand coming to rest on her hip.
“Unless you don’t want to, that is. I get panic attacks and how they can wear you out. ”
“You do?” she whispered.
“For the first six months after my injury, every time I woke up, I’d panic,” he whispered back. “It’s exhausting and demoralizing all at the same time. So…yeah.”
Her stomach growled, and Winnie didn’t want to send Ty away and call for Chinese food. Not when she’d gone shopping for a new jumpsuit for next weekend’s wedding, and not when she’d picked up these cute flowered pants she now wore.
Bright, vibrant pinks, purples, and white petals danced across a black background, and she’d paired it with a black blouse on top. The jeans disappeared into the tops of her ankle boots, and Winnie wished she could rewind time and open the door as the confident, beautiful woman she wanted to be.
“You look real nice,” Ty said, still in that same low voice. “And if I’m right about where you live, you should have the river running along your backyard. So I can order dinner here, and we can eat it outside if you want.”
She turned, glad when he simply let his left hand slide along her back. She ran her hands up his chest and yes, leaned into him again. “Do I strike you as the kind of woman who likes to eat outside?”
“Yes.” He grinned at her. “Because you told me last night that you take your pomegranate tea on the back deck every morning.”
She smiled back at him. “That’s cheating.”
He chuckled. “Cheating? I’m cheating now if I remember what you’ve told me? That doesn’t seem fair.”
“I don’t want to eat on the back deck.”
“Okay,” he said. “I don’t care about the panic attack, Winnie. I just won’t ring that doorbell ever again.” He wore fierceness in his expression, and his tone turned a touch harsher than he’d used so far that evening.
“Where are we going to dinner?” she asked.
“I got us a garden table at Squared Away. It’s a nice little bistro on the square downtown.” His eyebrows went up even as his gaze dropped to her mouth. “If you still want to go.”
Winnie watched his mouth as he spoke too. “I do,” she whispered. “I like this shirt. It’s very soft.” She played with the buttons up near his throat that he’d left undone. “I promise I won’t freak out every time you come get me.”
Ty nodded, then simply turned, dropped his hand to hers again, and led her out of her own house.
She hadn’t grabbed her purse, and part of her felt naked without it.
She had her phone in her pocket, though, and she figured she could call a ride, pay for things, and pretty much survive with just that for tonight.
“How did the engagement go?” she asked, once they both sat in his truck.
Ty glanced over to her. “Great. She said yes.”
Winnie smiled out the windshield. “That’s great.”
Ty backed out of her driveway and started down the lane. “You have a very cheerful attitude about marriage for someone who’s been through what you have.”
She looked over to him, and with the sun already down tonight, with only tones of gold and violet in the sky, she couldn’t see him as clearly as she’d like to. “I still want to get married someday,” she said. “I’m just…well.” She blew out her breath, searching for the right words.
“I guess I just need to be more selective about who I spend my time with.”
“Seems to me you’ve been spendin’ time all over town,” he said.
Winnie watched him come to a stop at the end of her street, the orange lamp there painting his features in harsh light. “What do you mean?”
“You’re everywhere, Winnie,” he said, that lopsided smile making an appearance. “You volunteer at the summer dance, you’re teaching at the Deaf academy, you work with all my friends.”
“One friend,” she shot back. “And that’s just luck. I don’t pick my patients. They get assigned to us at the clinic.”
“Hey, it’s not a bad thing.” Once he’d turned, Ty reached over and took her hand in his again. “I like holding your hand. Is this okay?”
“Yeah,” she said with a sigh. “It’s nice—I haven’t….” She trailed off, something inside her turning her tongue shy.
“You haven’t what?” he asked.
“I don’t want to air all my insecurities on the first date,” she said.
“Hey, it puts us on even ground,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
He glared at her for a moment, then focused on driving again. “I mean, you’ve seen me at my worst. Angry, hurting, falling down. It’s nice to know that even the sunniest pictures can still have real problems.”