Chapter 10 #2
Her touch is too much when I’m this out of control.
If that bothers her, she hides it, setting her palms on her thighs and straightening, giving me space without moving from her spot in front of me.
I do the same, resting against the couch.
It helps—some.
“You stayed.” Her face scrunches up like she’s trying hard to figure out how to say what she’s thinking without offending me. “I didn’t expect you to stick around Timberline Peak.”
Tipping my head back, I close my eyes and focus on the sound of her voice, letting it serve as my anchor point. With every soft and soothing syllable, the vise squeezing my chest gives a fraction.
“I thought you’d be well on your way home.”
I hear her shaky breath—the nervous laughter just below the surface. She’s trying so damn hard to take the focus off my current state.
“But I’m glad you’re here.”
Her slow, deliberate words calm the storm inside me enough that I’m able to push a few stranded words out. “Recovering in a camper didn’t seem like the fastest way to heal.”
Shock widens her eyes before she can hide it.
“You live in a camper?”
“Gertrude is a very nice rig,” I croak.
“With a name like Gertrude, I would expect nothing short of elegance.” She pauses, dragging this out to let me catch my breath and come down from the panic.
“No one has ever called my old ass Volkswagen elegant.” Each word I manage drags me out of the past.
“Where is she parked?”
“Outside of Bramble.”
Her nose crinkles at the mention of the town. That’s the reaction I was expecting. People always think I’m crazy for living on four wheels in a place most people avoid.
“That face you’re making is exactly why I live there.”
Bramble is notorious for being as lawless as the vigilante cowboys that rule it.
“Why would you leave Gertrude in Bramble when you’re working here?”
I shrug through a few deep breaths, feeling more even. “When we’re deployed, we stay in spike camps—essentials only. I only use the van when I’m off, which is pretty rare this time of year.”
“You’re not worried someone will steal it or mess with it?”
“People stay out of each other’s way on the other side of the range.” For the most part, that’s true. Being parked on the edge of Perdition Ranch helps, too. The brothers provide me with a piece of remote land, and in exchange, I help maintain their more remote fences in the winter.
Aspen nods, her lips already parting with another question. I should shut her down, but the more we talk the more the darkness retreats.
“You don’t get lonely living like that?” Her cheeks flush. “Oh god. I shouldn’t assume you’re alone. You could have someone.”
“I don’t,” I say, a little too short. Then I clear my throat, flattening my tone to something more even. “It makes sense for me. The lifestyle keeps me occupied when work slows down. There’s always something that needs to be done.”
“You’ll have to get back there eventually?”
“Sure.” I haven’t considered the logistics of it, but I’ll figure it out. “Once I’m healed.”
Every thought flickers across Aspen’s pretty features as she takes that in.
This time, I don’t temper my frustration, growling her name, and I swear she shivers in response to the sound. Or maybe I’m still seeing things that aren’t there. “Stop doing mental gymnastics over there. My life isn’t a problem for you to solve.”
“Emmett,” She mimics, bratty and bold as hell.
Fuck, that attitude is trouble with a capital T. It also disarms me, which is rare and dangerous in equal parts.
Ignoring Aspen when she’s being sweet and helpful is hard enough. This stubborn, bossy side she’s showing me does something completely different to me, and it’s impossible to look away from.
From angel to hellion, her range is captivating.
She is captivating.
As if she knows exactly how wayward my mind just went, Aspen pulls back her shoulders and locks me in a glare.
Oh, yeah, she’s hiding horns under that halo.
“That’s not . . .” She scoffs.
When I return her pointed glare, she folds her hands in her lap, professional mask falling back into place. “You need help while you recover; that’s just facts. You were offered a home health nurse I assume?”
“Yes.”
“Let me guess . . . you declined?”
I stare back at her, jaw clenched.
Her hands fly up in frustration.“Stubborn, impossible man.”
In her own way, she might be scarier than Becky.
“You’re going to let me help.”
She leaves no room for argument . . . which would work for most people. But I’m not most people.
“We’ll see,” I grumble.
“I’m going to pretend that was a thank you.” She stands from her spot on the coffee table.
“Stubborn and grumpy might be your factory settings, but if you cross over into asshole territory, I’ll dump you on Becky’s doorstep.”
I wet my lips, fighting a grin. “No, you won’t.”
She sucks on her cheek, losing the battle of trying to hold back her grin. “Cocky, too.”
“You like having me here. You admitted it.”
She tilts her head side to side a few times before her posture softens a touch. “For now.”
“For now,” I repeat, because the reminder feels necessary—for both of us.
Message delivered, she moves to the opposite end of the couch.
I turn toward her, not sure where to go from here.
“I won’t let you get hurt on my watch or my property. When you need help, you’ll ask. If you don’t, you’ll leave me no choice but to insert myself as I see fit.”
Assertive Aspen is a wrecking ball, busting down all the walls I've spent years fortifying. Fresh from the hospital and she's already telling how it's going to be. Normally that would send me running . . . somehow coming from her it feels likes suffocating, not that I plan to admit that.
“I can take care of myself,” I remind her.
“I have no doubt you’ll try.”
And she calls me stubborn. Pot, meet kettle. I let out a rough exhale, ready for a fight.
“But maybe, just this once, you don’t have to.”
I need a break from talking about me. And she’s settled in like she’s not going anywhere anytime soon, so I ask, “What’s with the empty loft?”
“My brother, Drake, lived here while he built his hermit hole in the woods—you two would be fast friends. He’s just as—”
I scowl, daring her to finish.
“I just mean . . .” Her lips roll together, stifling a laugh. “You both like solitude. People misunderstand him, and I think, maybe, it’s the same for you.”
This is why I can’t get close to her. She sees things that aren’t there.
I shift under her gaze, restless. She’s doing it now, cutting straight through my bullshit to the things I try to hide from the world. It irritates and thrills me.
I buckle under her stare.
“Trying to fix me will only lead to pain.” It comes out weary, more vulnerable than I’d like. “I’m better on my own. Always have been.”
Arms cross over her chest protectively, she says, “Liar.” It’s only a moment before regret softens her voice. “That’s not how I see you.”
“Really?” I challenge. “Because calling me misunderstood is like calling a wildfire temperamental instead of dangerous. You’ll get burned if you get too close.”
Aspen pushes up from the couch, turning away, fists clenched at her sides.
A second later, she spins back around, golden eyes blazing as they sweep over me. I hold still for what feels like minutes, forcing myself to look like everything I warned her about.
Recognizing she can’t win this one, she deflates.
Regret turns my stomach.
“I can’t change how you see yourself. But like it or not, I’ll be here when you need help, or a friend.”
She crosses to the kitchen, stops at the whiteboard, and scrawls something in loopy handwriting without looking back. “There’s a pizza place that delivers—menu’s on the fridge. I’ll set out some of Drake’s old clothes so you have a clean set.”
Her shoulders lift and fall with a heavy sigh before she faces me. Hurt and maybe disappointment tug her lips down.
Whatever it is, it lands hard.
“Your bandage needs to be changed in the morning. Text me when you’re up, or don’t. I can’t make you do anything you don’t want to, Emmett.”
Then she walks out, leaving me filled with self-hatred and guilt.
I did that, and she didn’t deserve it.
Fuck.