Chapter 11
Caren climbed out of the Uber. She only had a small roll bag which she dragged with her.
The car took off and she walked up to the door. Thank God there was a lift up to her place as she did not feel like climbing five flights on stairs.
She’d taken some painkillers but her head was still throbbing in pain. And she was exhausted even though she had gotten plenty of sleep. This morning, she’d woken up with a throbbing head and a dry mouth, without the good time to blame it all on.
No, yesterday hadn’t been a good time at all. It had been a complete shit show and she couldn’t believe she’d actually thought something positive might have come out of the visit. That she might have managed to find some closure with her mother.
Instead, her mother had thrown something at her and knocked her out. And she’d grabbed her arm, leaving one heck of a bruise. Thankfully, Caren had a long-sleeved coat with her that covered it.
As she moved toward her apartment, she reached with one hand into her handbag, trying to find her keys.
Why did they always end up in the bottom of her bag?
“Where the hell have you been? And why didn’t you answer my calls or texts?” a voice demanded.
She glanced up, stumbling back in shock as she encountered a large man rising from the floor in front of her apartment door.
Her breath caught.
He’d found her.
Oh. My. God.
How had he found her? How was this happening?
The world around her spun, growing dark as she gasped for air.
Scream! Run!
“Fucking hell! Breathe, Goldie! Breathe!”
Goldie? That’s not what he called her . . . that’s what Travis called her.
Hands grasped her around the upper arms and she was shaken. “Goldie, snap out of it! Fuck!”
Oh no.
It was Travis. She tried to calm herself, but the panic had taken over. It was all too much. Her mother. Her head. Travis.
God. What was he doing here?
“Tyler! What do I do for someone having a panic attack?”
Huh?
Was someone else here?
She felt herself being lowered to the floor.
“She’s panicking . . . it doesn’t matter why . . . maybe I had something to do with it . . . for fuck’s sake, Tyler! She can’t fucking breathe, tell me what to do. Right . . . yep . . . just that? Okay. Yeah, bye.”
What was happening?
“Caren, baby. Listen to me. I need you to fucking breathe. Hear me? Do as you’re told.”
Was he kidding? He just expected her to start breathing?
“Shit. Fuck. Fine. We’ll do it Tyler’s way. Fucking soothing voice, what is he talking about? All right, baby, I want you to concentrate on my voice. Tell me what you can hear. Just one thing you can hear. And focus on that.”
“You,” she managed to get out.
“Good girl. You’re doing so well. Am I being soothing? Didn’t know I had it in me. Must be working. Two things you can smell.”
“You,” she said.
He made a scoffing noise. “Are you going to answer every question with me?”
Well, that sounded nice. She’d want every sentence, every day, every breath to end with him.
Okay, stop.
You can’t think that way. He’s not yours and he’s not going to be.
“What else?” he demanded.
Already, she was thinking more clearly and her breath was coming easier. She would have Tyler to thank for that and what must have been his advice to Travis on the phone.
It definitely wasn’t due to Travis ordering her around.
Had the nutter really thought that he could just order her to breathe and she would?
“Cleaning stuff,” she eventually managed to say.
Exhaustion washed over her and she could finally breathe. That was such a relief. Tears filled her eyes and she closed them tight, determined not to let them out. Not being able to breathe, feeling so completely out of control, it was terrifying.
She couldn’t even put it into words.
She’d suffered from panic attacks for years and yet they still took her by surprise each time. They still threw her back to that helpless child, waiting for her piano lesson with her cruel mother.
Or praying that her father might notice her, might care about her, only for him to walk past her as though she was invisible.
“Tell me three things you can see,” he said.
“I’m okay now,” she told him, opening her eyes to look at him. “You don’t have to worry. Tyler told you what to do?”
He grunted. “You don’t look so good, Goldie.”
Goldie . . . not baby? He had called her baby before hadn’t he? Or had she imagined that?
God. She wasn’t sure. Everything was so muddled up inside of her head.
“Thanks,” she said faintly. “That’s what every woman wants to hear.”
He gently grasped hold of her chin, tilting her head back. Suddenly, she remembered the lump on her forehead. She’d worn a hat in an attempt to cover it. Her hat was bright orange and pink patchwork and thank God she had it.
Still, she wasn’t sure it was sitting properly and the last thing she wanted was for him to see the lump on her head.
So she shied backward, banging her head into the wall behind her.
A groan of pain escaped her.
Her poor head. Her poor brain. Was it true that whacks to the brain could kill brain cells? If so, she was a damn sight dumber than she had been twenty-four hours ago.
“Careful!” he barked. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”
“Too late,” she muttered.
“That’s it. You do need me even if you deny it. Without me, you go around having panic attacks and hurting yourself.”
Dear Lord, help her.
Give her some patience. Please.
Unfortunately no one was listening to her pleas. Because she couldn’t seem to find much patience.
“You’re the one who scared me!” she snapped at him. “Lurking outside my apartment like a cockwomble."
“Like a . . . like a what?”
“A cockwomble. It’s someone who does something stupid while thinking they’re all that and a packet of chocolate biscuits!”
“Biscuits?” he repeated.
“Cookies. Keep up, man.”
“Someone who thinks they’re all that?” he said.
“Yes. Someone who thinks they’re awesome while doing something really dumb. Like lurking outside my apartment, scaring me to death, then saying I need you around because I can’t take care of myself.”
He was such a tosser.
She was glad she’d discovered this before she did something stupid.
Yeah? Like what? Throw yourself at him and tell him how much you want him and how you’ve loved him since you were a teenager and that it’s always been him?
Yep.
That was never going to happen so it shouldn’t matter to her what a nutter he was.
She was also insane since she actually thought some of his behavior was attractive and cute.
Well, no more.
“I think it would be best if you deleted my number off your phone and left me alone,” she informed him.
She’d had enough.
And those tears that had been threatening slid down her cheeks as she grabbed her handbag and stood. Of course, the world decided to spin, which was really crappy timing, and she made the mistake of closing her eyes for a moment.
Then she found herself in the air, being held in strong arms, against a firm chest.
Damn it.
Why couldn’t some part of him be soft? Why couldn’t he have flaws?
Well, other than the fact that he was a complete idiot, of course. That should be flaw enough to have her running from him. To make her desire for him wane.
“What are you doing? Put me down!”
“No.”
“Travis, you can’t just boss me around and get your own way and do . . . do w-whatever you w-want.”
Shit. No.
This was what she wanted to avoid. She did not want to cry in front of him.
“Hush, Goldie. I know I messed up. I’m going to make it up to you, but first I just need to get you comfortable and settled, okay? Let me do that, all right? Just let me get you inside and protected.”
She should fight him, but she was all out of fight.
“And please, please, stop crying,” he begged.
“You just . . . you just caught m-me at a b-bad moment,” she told him. “I’m f-fine.”
“You’re not and it kills me that I’m partially to blame. But I’ll make sure you are. Where are your keys?”
“Handbag.” She realized that she still had hold of it and started searching through it until she found them. Then he walked to her door and she unlocked it. “N-need my b-bag.”
“I’ll get it for you,” he said in a surprisingly soothing voice.
“Don’t worry.” He set her down on her couch and she wiped frantically at her eyes as he turned away.
Moving so she was sitting rather than lying down, she quickly grabbed a tissue and tidied herself up.
Then she reached up to make sure her hat was still covering the lump on her head.
Whew.
Now all she had to do was to get rid of this stubborn Neanderthal so she could just let go and cry without anyone as witness.
He returned with her bag.
“Thanks, Travis. But I really think you should go. I’m not in the mood for company.”
“Lucky I’m not company, huh?” He moved over to her and sat on the coffee table.
What was he doing?
He reached for her foot and she stared in shock as he slid her shoe off. Then he did the same to her other shoe. She was wearing her favorite pink slip-on sneakers. They were adorable with sparkly gemstones at the back.
Finally, he grabbed a cushion off the sofa and slid along the coffee table before placing it down next to him and resting her feet on top of it.
“You look like you need to get your feet up. You’re very pale. Let’s get that coat and hat off you.”
“No!” She shied back again as he reached for her.
He froze, putting his hands up into the air. “Hey, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“You . . . you didn’t scare me. I just . . . I’m cold.”
“Cold? It’s warm in here.”
“I’m always cold.”
“I’m just touching your hand, okay?” He reached down and grasped hold of her hand. “Shit, you are cold. You need a blanket.” He grabbed the blanket that she kept at the end of the sofa and placed it over her.
Great. Now she felt bad for lying to him. Well, it wasn’t exactly a lie. She was always cold.
But he was also being so sweet it was killing her. She couldn’t handle Travis being sweet to her right now. She needed him to be an asshole so she could kick him out of her apartment.
And take some more painkillers.