Chapter Ten
Phoebe
Four. That’s how many times I’ve been screwed by Tucker. Four nights of being left alone afterwards. I don’t even get the affectionate kiss to the temple like that first night anymore.
“Everything okay?” Sarah asks.
I force a smile. “Fine.”
Pulling me aside, she levels me with a glare. “Phoebe, you can tell me if something’s wrong. Has Pacino done something to you?”
Oh, if only she knew all the things he’s done to me. Like had me wanting like never before. Soaking wet and waiting for him. Loving how he feels until I get close to orgasm only to remember I’ll be left alone afterwards.
“No, I’m okay, Sarah. Really. I’ve just been having nightmares, so I’m a little tired.”
It’s not a complete lie. I have been having the nightmares I haven’t had in a long time. I think the abandonment after sex brings them to the forefront. But that’s my burden, not Tucker’s.
“You haven’t been experimenting.”
“I can’t afford to waste ingredients right now. Not with the costs we have. We’ll stick with what we have—”
“Is this because of the security system? Because I can help. Scotty can find a way to get us a discount. Or maybe he can work out a payment plan for us.”
Smiling, I appreciate her. Tucker already said we’d work something out, but I have never and will never take something I haven’t earned.
“This isn’t your problem to worry about, Sarah. I’ll figure it out,” I assure her.
“But I want you to be you,” she says, her voice quiet as she walks to the front.
I’ve been avoiding the lobby when I can. Tucker works with Scotty installing everything, and it’s a bit overwhelming to realize every inch of this place has camera coverage. The only place to hide is the walk-ins.
It all seems excessive, but I want Sarah to feel safe. And I want her to be safe.
If this really is because someone wants to hurt me, I don’t want her suffering in the process. It would kill me if someone got hurt because of me.
The thought fills me with panic, and I can’t breathe as I walk out to the display case to clean it up.
Grabbing the counter, I try to get deep breaths in and out.
It’s been so long since I last had a panic attack, but it’s a familiar feeling.
The imaginary snake wrapping itself around my chest and squeezing.
“Phoebe?” Sarah asks, rushing toward me. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”
Tucker and Scotty turn around, and the attention only makes it worse. Dropping to the floor behind the counter, I try my best to put my head between my knees.
It doesn’t really work.
“Phoebe?” Tucker calls, hurrying around the counter.
I hold up my hand and wave them away. “I’ll… be… fine.”
“Are you having a panic attack?” Sarah asks, and I can see her in my mind right now.
Standing there, wide eyes, and panic filling her at seeing me like this.
Nodding, I do my best to reassure her I’m okay. “It’ll… pass. It… always… does.”
I’m off the ground and in Tucker’s arms before I can fight him off, and he brings me to the back. Setting me on the prep table, he rests his hands on either side of my legs, bending down enough to look into my eyes.
“Name five things you can see, Yellow Crayon.”
Blinking, I stare into his impossibly blue eyes. “You. The sink. Your shirt. Black spots in my vision. The lights.”
“Four things you can touch.”
“You. The table. The floor. Water.”
My breathing improves, and I’m astounded by this method he has. He’s like an anxiety whisperer.
“Three things you can hear.”
“Your voice. The oven. A truck out back.”
“Two things you can smell.”
Sniffing, I jump off the table, push his arm out of the way, and pull cupcakes out of the oven. “Burned cupcakes. Shit!”
“Phoebe, I’m sorry!” Sarah cries and runs back. “I was supposed to take them out. I got distracted—”
I toss them into the sink with a loud bang, and I hold up my shaking hands. “It’ll be fine.”
“Phoebe—”
“I just need a minute,” I say and hurry outside through the back door.
The struggle becomes harder to handle. Choosing happiness over the darkness that has started to creep in becomes more difficult than ever before. Maybe staying with Tucker wasn’t such a good idea. I squeeze my eyes shut as I try to recenter myself.
“Yellow Crayon, what’s going on?” Tucker says, forcing me to open my eyes.
“I’m having a bad day,” I admit.
“I can see that. What do you need?”
Oh, that is such a loaded question. “I think I need to move back to my place.”
He shakes his head quickly. “No. Not until we know who’s checking up on you.”
“The SUV hasn’t been back in days. You said they haven’t been by my place. They probably realized they were stalking the most annoying person on the planet and decided it wasn’t worth it,” I say, forcing a chuckle.
“Phoebe—”
“I’ll be fine, Tucker.” Rolling my shoulders, I plaster on the fake smile that hurts my cheeks. “Thank you for helping calm me down. I feel much better.”
He studies me, and for someone who says he doesn’t like to be looked at, he does a lot of it himself. Or maybe he just doesn’t like it during sex.
“Talk to me.”
“I need to get another batch of cupcakes into the oven. We’re going to run out.”
“And what’s the worst that happens if you do?”
As a business owner, I’d expect him to be a little more understanding. “Someone might come in for something they want and not get it. Then I lose the business, and they go somewhere else.”
“Or they could choose something else that’s just as good.”
Brushing past him, I head back inside and into the walk-in. Somewhere I know I’m not watched. The last thing I want is to get into this discussion with Tucker. I feel like I’ll never win if I do.
Tears sting at my eyes, but I force them back. I can break down later when I’m alone. When I’m back at my place. Safely alone like I should be.
Feelings are too much. They stir up the things I thought I’d long buried, and my life is getting complicated. It’s hard to see the bright side of things. I’m becoming the version of myself I don’t like, and that’s the last thing I want.
Pulling myself together, I walk out and jump when Tucker stands against the wall across from me. “You scared me.”
And then I laugh. Hard. My heart about jumped out of my body, and I fall back against the door, sliding down to the floor as I continue to lose it.
It feels really good. Cathartic. I can’t remember the last time I laughed like this. And with every moment that passes, I feel myself becoming lighter.
To make it even better, Tucker laughs with me. I’ve heard a snort before. Maybe a chuckle. But not a laugh. And I’d give anything to have him do it more often. It’s a beautiful sound.
“What’s going on?” Scotty asks, unable to keep from laughing himself as he looks between us.
I wipe my eyes, and my sides ache. “Oh, ow, my sides. I haven’t laughed this hard in…” Another burst comes out, and I struggle to pull myself up with one of the shelves beside me. “Okay, I’m good. I think.”
“I scared her, and she damn near jumped out of her skin,” Tucker says to Scotty, chuckling. “Then she lost it.”
“Which made you lose it. I get it. It’s like yawning.”
Scotty heads back out front, and I take deep breaths as I move to the table. Tucker traps me against it, his front to my back in the familiar position we seem to end up in the middle of the night, and I’m immediately wet. And wanting.
“You’re not safe at your place, Yellow Crayon. I don’t want you alone.”
“Tucker—”
“Let’s go out tonight.”
Out? “Where?”
“Seven Crows. What do you say?”
Like a date? “Um, okay.”
He’s off me as quickly as he was on, and I feel a chill where his body heat had warmed me. I don’t understand him. I have never met someone who is so hot one minute and so cold the next. A series of contradictions.
He wouldn’t shake my hand when we first met, but he comes to me in the middle of the night to connect with me in the most intimate of ways. There’s someone else he gets his pleasure from, but he doesn’t want to let me go.
“I just wish he’d tell me how he feels,” I mutter.
That would make this so much easier.