Chapter 14
Surprisingly enough, an hour or so later, Jason’s truck pulled up the driveway.
My stomach gurgled the moment I spotted him through the window—a natural reaction to his presence.
Something inside me told me I was about to be fed.
When he slid out of the driver’s side with a sunny grin and a pizza box in hand, I nearly laughed out loud.
I headed out the front door, feeling lighter than I had in days.
I could smell the cheese from the top of the porch.
My mouth watered.
Part of me…was wary, though. One look at me and I knew he’d see how strung thin I was. Patrick had certainly shown his concern that morning. Sent me away from the farm with the strict order to sleep it off.
I hadn’t.
I’d worked on the house instead.
So now, on top of looking half dead, I was also covered in paint.
“Hey!” Jason called out as he headed my way. “How’s it going, big guy?”
I grunted in response.
The sun lit him up from behind like an angel in a puffer coat and boots. The forecast had predicted snow. A lot of snow. I’d been mad-rushing to get wood chopped to sustain myself in case I got stuck indoors, so the coat made sense. Even if it was kind of jarring to see him wearing something new.
Normally, he cycled through the same three sweaters.
Speaking of the weather…fuck.
I’d totally spaced stopping by the grocery store to stock up before the storm hit.
On top of that, I couldn’t remember the last time I ate. Partly because eating had begun to feel like a waste of time. And partly because my cupboards were pretty barren. Okay, very barren.
I’d been surviving on canned soup and the remainder of my TV dinners, but even those were nearly gone.
As he paused at the base of the porch steps, Jason’s eyes darted around my house. Knowing him, he was cataloguing the mess of tools on the porch. He arched a brow, attention moving from my house to me, then lingering first on my face, then my chest, then lower.
My heart did this weird squirming thing.
I thwacked my chest to get it to stop.
When my hand connected with the giant smear of dried paint on my shirt I realized what he was looking at. I’d forgotten I was wearing my shitty shirt. Dubbed “shitty” because it was the one I always wore when I wanted to do something that might ruin it.
And ruin it I had.
Liberally.
With a can of blue paint this morning.
I was good with my hands most of the time, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t clumsy enough to spill all over myself. The spot I’d bumped was a particularly obvious smear across my pecs. Mistakes had been made when I’d forgotten that my hands were messy and scratched my chest.
I hadn’t thought anything of it at the time.
That was the point of the “shitty” shirt.
But now I certainly did.
As George would say, I was a “hot mess.” Bruises beneath my eyes. Covered in paint. Exhausted and two seconds from cracking right down the middle from the stress of all the projects I had looming over me.
I dropped my hands to my sides, clenching them into anxious fists to self-soothe.
The pizza was taunting me.
Like a pie in a window of a kids’ cartoon.
But I didn’t move down the steps. Too anxious that Jason was going to see me. Really see me. That he was going to call me out for what I’d been doing—working myself into the ground. That he was going to offer to help me again, and I’d be so weak I’d be tempted to accept.
Jason eyed my front steps like he thought the wood was going to cave the second he stepped on them.
Which was fair. I had the same thought every time I did, too.
It was last on my list. Simply because fixing it was the biggest fucking job I had.
With the rate things were going, I wasn’t going to get to it.
God, that made me feel sick.
The anxious ball of dread sat heavy in my stomach.
I’d thought the lack of money was the worst part of this endeavor. I’d been wrong. So wrong. I had no idea how I was going to accomplish this in such a short time.
Just thinking that made me seize up.
The weeks were going by so goddamn fast.
“Pizza?” Jason loped up the steps with a pinched expression—again, like he expected them to fail. They didn’t.
“Uh, yeah. Thanks.”
I stepped to the side, turning my head a little to try and conceal the dark circles I had. Also, maybe my expression. Because Jason was getting better and better at reading me, and I didn’t know what he’d see if he looked.
“You didn’t eat already, did you?” He hummed as he finally made it to the top. He stepped in close. Close enough I got a huge whiff of his cologne, something fruity and musky, as well as cheese. Molten hot. Fresh out the oven, delightful cheese.
My stomach growled again.
“No.”
“Good thing I stopped by then, huh?” Jason said. “C’mon. Pizza’s not getting any warmer.” He shuffled the box into one arm. My eyes drifted shut as I anticipated his touch. Any second now he’d grab my nape and manhandle me into a seat on the porch. Or my hip—hell, I wasn’t picky.
A shiver wracked my frame at the thought.
But…Jason didn’t touch my nape, or my back, or my hips—not like usual.
Nope.
He stepped past me and yanked the screen door wide.
My eyes shot open.
“Wai—”
Jason shoved the next door open too, and then—leaned his back against it to keep them both open while he waited expectantly for me to follow. There was a challenge in his eyes. My heart was pounding, warning bells going off in my head.
“Did you think we were eating on the porch again?” Jason asked when he saw the look on my face.
I opened my mouth to reply, but he cut me off.
“Joe. It’s seriously freezing out here.” It was.
It was incredibly cold. I’d been shivering since I stepped onto the porch.
“Your options are house or truck. You pick.”
I wavered.
Neither option sounded great. I was bound to spill if I ate inside either of our vehicles.
Which was super embarrassing. But Jason inside my house?
I didn’t want him to see the way I’d been living.
My pulse kicked up, that odd squirming in my stomach at the thought of having Jason in my personal space.
Space I’d never shared with anyone else.
Space that was ugly.
And embarrassing.
And not suited for guests.
Least of all someone like Jason—who I…who I wanted to impress.
He really is going to think you’re an idiot.
“Neither.” On instinct, I dove in front of him to block him from entering. When he shifted to the right, I blocked that, too. An impenetrable wall.
Jason’s eyebrows were frustrated.
“Joe.” He’d never said my name that way.
“Seriously?” His eyes were stormy for a second, regarding me with frustration before he sighed.
His head dropped forward in defeat. Another new look.
I didn’t like it. Didn’t like that I’d caused it, most of all.
“Neither it is,” he compromised, shifting out of the way and onto the porch again.
My heart was racing. Going so fast it was doing cartwheels.
“Here.” Jason set the pizza box down on the porch. He flopped down with another sigh. So quiet I knew he wasn’t doing it to shame me. Wasn’t trying to make me feel bad. He was just…
Disappointed.
I wavered, hovering in front of the door, not sure what to do.
“No one’s been in the house,” I bit out, trying to explain myself.
“I know,” Jason replied. He didn’t look at me. He just sat on the top step in his big puffy coat, staring at the woods like they had the answers I didn’t. “It’s fine, Joe.”
“It doesn’t feel fine,” I said, because it didn’t.
He wasn’t looking at me.
He always looked at me.
“Come eat your pizza,” Jason patted the spot next to him. “It really is getting cold.” Cold because he’d driven across the entire town to get to me. Taken time out of his day—again—to make sure I was fed.
Because he was a good friend.
And I couldn’t…I couldn’t even let him into my house. Couldn’t let him see my imperfections. Couldn’t let him beneath my walls.
How the hell was I supposed to prove to myself that I was brave if I couldn’t even let my friend—the only friend I’d ever really had—in?
“Come inside,” I said.
Jason held very, very still. He twisted to look at me. Finally. Those thunderous blue eyes were all mine. They reminded me of lake water. Reflections. Myself mirrored back in them. “No,” he responded quietly. “Not if it isn’t what you actually want.”
It was such a respectful thing to say it nearly broke me.
I thought about his words. Thought about him.
About how kind he’d been. Pushy yes, but kind.
How he’d supported me. How he’d opened up to me, even though he said it wasn’t something he normally did.
How he’d offered me his help over and over and over again.
How the only reason I’d made progress on the house at all had been because of Jason’s generosity.
Because he’d seen me struggling. He’d gone out on a limb for me. Couldn’t I do that for him? Especially now that we were close?
“I want you to come inside,” I said, more firmly this time.
“Are you su—”
“I am,” I cut him off.
I was.
There were some doors you couldn’t close after they’d been opened. I knew that. I think he knew that, too, if the way he was regarding me meant anything. Like he knew how big this was for me. Like he respected my choice. Respected me.
And suddenly I knew, without a thread of doubt in my mind, that Jason was exactly the kind of man I wanted in my most vulnerable place.
That I’d just made the correct choice. There was no reason to believe he’d judge me.
No reason to think he’d find me lacking, even after he’d seen how I’d been living.
I could lean on him if I needed to because Jason made me feel safe. And nothing about that made me weak.