Chapter Seven
Bix closed the door to the bedroom. Her bedroom? For now. She was shaking, and she hadn’t wanted him to see it. Because it
made her feel weak. Made her feel small. And she had been feeling pretty good until she had to go back to the van and look
at her life through his eyes. Today with Justice and Denver, she had felt something else. Something new. Like she was free.
They were fine. They swore and told crass stories and made her laugh. She made them laugh too, and it had been a good time.
She had fun climbing up to the top of the barn. And it had amused her that Daughtry was so put off by it.
She didn’t know why he would care. If she fell off the roof she wouldn’t be his problem anymore. On some level, it seemed
like he would think that was a good thing.
The sheets and blankets on the bed didn’t match. But they were clean and soft. There were two pillows, and she didn’t really
know what to do with that. She didn’t need to. It was excessive. It had been one thing to sleep on Daughtry’s bed with all
those extra pillows. It was reasonable for a man to give himself a whole ton of extra pillows, she felt.
Him giving an extra one to her was just... It spoke of a concern for comfort.
And yet again, she didn’t quite know what to do with that.
She picked up her box of books and put it on the bed. She didn’t share her life with anyone. She didn’t share things. It had
been humiliating to have him look at the books. She had read The Wolf and the Dove .
She had read it at least fifty times.
One of the things she liked about it was how strong the heroine was. Everything was terrible; it was the Middle Ages, after
all. The heroine was kidnapped, chained to a bed and held captive by a fierce and handsome warrior.
If there was something about that fantasy that appealed to her... it was her business. She wouldn’t say that she had any
kind of romantic inclinations. Again, she couldn’t afford them.
But it was nice to escape into a different world for a little while. To imagine that a dark and dangerous experience could
lead to something... wonderful.
At least Daughtry hadn’t chained her to the bed.
She blinked, doing her best to banish that image. Actually, when she really thought about it, it was difficult not to superimpose
bits of that book over her current experience.
Of course, she wasn’t a prisoner. And she was the one that had invaded Daughtry’s space. Her castle hadn’t been invaded by
Norman conquerors. She didn’t have a castle. She had an old gross van.
It bothered her, too, that she found that so embarrassing. Because she didn’t care what he thought about her. He was the kind of person who would always look down on someone like her.
Except, he hadn’t done that.
Well, he didn’t do it openly. But she had felt the sting of embarrassment when he had looked at all of her books. Like he
was combing through her thoughts.
She picked up her copy of Rich Dad Poor Dad . She didn’t put a lot of stock into this kind of thing. Most of the advice in books like this was for people who already
had a certain amount of success. Who already had something to work with.
But it made her feel like she was doing something. She hadn’t gone to school. Any education she’d had, she’d worked for. A
lot of it was through reading. She was grateful that people passed their books on.
It had the potential to change lives. Or at least, she kind of liked to think that it did. These books hadn’t changed her
life.
Not yet.
What made her so uncomfortable about Daughtry looking at them was it was clear she wanted them to. That she wanted something to.
She was pathetic.
Absolutely pathetic.
There was a stark knock on the door and she jumped.
“What?”
The door pushed open. “Bix,” he said. “What exactly would you like to eat?”
“What are my options? I mean, sorry. You don’t need to do that for me.”
“I don’t need to do what?”
“Cook me something, or whatever you’re preparing to do.” She sniffed. “I’m totally fine just staying here by myself. I can
rummage through the freezer.”
“I’m going to stay with you.”
“Why?” she asked.
“Because,” he said, his voice sounding rough, frustrated, “I’m bound and determined to take care of you, you silly little
varmint.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Well, I don’t understand your book collection. Or why you’re resisting so hard.”
“They’re just books.”
“They don’t look like just books to me. They look like goals. Dreams.”
She scoffed. “I don’t have dreams.”
“Everybody has dreams,” he said.
“Bullshit, Sheriff. What’s your dream, then?”
He looked thoughtful for a moment. “I guess it’s to just keep doing the best that I can. To continue to repair my family’s
reputation in the town. And to expand the ranch.”
“You have a brick,” she said.
“What?”
“The ranch. It’s your brick. Your foundation. I’m not making excuses, not really. But my dad took my brick and threw it through the window. I’m the proud owner of a generational smash and grab. I don’t have anything to start a foundation with.” She shook her head. “No one dreams of this. Nobody dreams of that crappy orange van that I had hidden out in the woods. Nobody dreams of having to stay in a bedroom in a stranger’s house. I have been so far away from living any kind of dream for so long that I just quit. Maybe if you’re a different kind of kid you can dream. A kid holding a brick. Listen, it sounds like your family wasn’t great. But you all have this, and you have each other. I don’t have that.”
“But you don’t have these books for nothing.”
“Toilet paper is expensive. In this economy you have to be creative.”
“I don’t believe that,” he said.
“I don’t understand why you care. Are you just desperate to try to find something in me to justify this ridiculous act of
charity that you’re engaging in? Daughtry, it’s not... It’s not there. I’m not going to give you what you want. I’m going
to work here, and I’m going to move on. And the fact of the matter is, even if I started out doing something different, I
would just go back to what I know. Been there. Done that. Got the ill-fitting T-shirt. I’ve had real jobs. A couple of different
times. The juvenile record got expunged. That was supposed to be my chance. I have had a fresh start. But I don’t know what
to do with them. Because eventually, it gets hard. Eventually, I reached the end of knowing what to do. Eventually, I reached
the end of my own strength. And I go right back. To my dad, my brother, to their friends. And that ends at brewing moonshine
in the middle of the woods.”
He shifted, but he didn’t look shocked or angry by her outburst. It was one of the more annoying things about him. He just wasn’t reactive.
“If you had a brick, Bix, what would you do with it?”
“Break your nose?”
There was something subtle that shifted in his expression. Something that made her heart go tight. That made her stomach swoop.
“You can’t even be serious for a second?”
“I’m serious.”
“No. You’re a liar. You’re a liar who’s afraid to give me a straight answer because you’re afraid to want something.”
She rolled her eyes. “Are you billing me for this hour?”
“If you had a brick,” he repeated, “what would you do with it? What would you build?”
“You might as well ask me what I’d do with a handful of stardust, Sheriff. Because I don’t have either.”
He lowered his head. “I think you want to do something. Otherwise you wouldn’t have those books. Even Anne of Green Gables and Oliver Twist are about making new lives out of nothing.”
“Look at you,” she said. “You read.”
He took a step toward her. It wasn’t threatening, but it sucked the air out of her lungs all the same. She didn’t think she had ever seen a man as physically perfect as he was in person before. All the lines were straight. Symmetrical. Beautifully drawn. His eyes were the most piercing blue, his hair dark brown and curling just at the back of his neck. He would almost be pretty if it wasn’t for his size. Big and rough and broad. A warrior, she’d thought then.
Though there was no point thinking of him that way. There was no warrior coming to save her by holding her captive in a soft
bed. It was a compelling fantasy. But one she only indulged in at her weakest moments. And right now, with Daughtry, she couldn’t
afford to be weak.
“All I know is what I would’ve done,” she said, her frustration boiling over. “I would have gone to school. Every day. And maybe I would’ve made some friends.
Friends my age. Girls . I would have read every book in the school library. I wasn’t even allowed to have a library card, Daughtry. Because it’s
just another scam to get your information into the system. I would have gotten a summer job, and I would have bought myself
nice clothes. I would’ve had a boyfriend, and he would have taken me to a dance. We would have broken up when we got into
college, because I would never have let him hold me back. Because I would choose myself over a teenage relationship, but it’s
fine because there would have been other guys later. I would have got my degree, and I would have... I would’ve done something.
I wouldn’t be a skinny nobody living off of your charity.”
The last couple of words came out tremulously. And she hated herself for that. She hated that she was having these big, complicated feelings in front of him. That was the thing about living by herself. It was just easier. You never had to explain what was happening inside of you to another person. And consequently she’d never had to explain it to herself all that well. She didn’t like this. She didn’t like feeling like her skin had been peeled back. Like she had been exposed to him. No. She didn’t like that at all.
But of course, she couldn’t just be mean to him. Because he was being nice to her. Except, it didn’t feel all that nice. It
felt like a gift with an elaborate series of trip wires that she could easily get herself hung up on. Because he was making
her deal with all this... this stuff. Because he was digging.
“You can’t have your childhood back,” he said. “And believe me, I understand the process of grieving that. My dad was a bastard.
He was a narcissist who hurt the people around him, Bix. I get it. My mom left so she didn’t have to deal with him.”
His mom had left too. It stunned her, and she wasn’t quite sure why, to know that this perfect, gorgeous man had also been
abandoned by his mother. It made her think that maybe... just maybe the issue wasn’t her. Because it happened to anybody.
Really. If it could happen to him it could happen to anybody.
“I spent a long time regretting a lot of things about my childhood. And then I decided to take control of what I was doing
now,” he continued.
“I have more baggage than you,” she said.
“That is true. It is. I’m not going to lie to you. I’m not going to say it’s not... not a thing. But there are people in
the world who aren’t going to hold it against you forever. You just have to find them.”
“I like being alone. Because when I’m with people this kind of thing happens.”
“Somebody asks you to dig into your inconvenient truths?”
“It’s not about inconvenience. There’s just... Like I said, what’s the point?”
“The point is, eventually you have to own that this is your life.”
“Do I give you the impression that I’m someone who doesn’t own their own choices?”
He shook his head. “No. In fact, you seem very ready to own a whole bunch of bad choices. But when you give your explanations,
I have a feeling that I’m hearing your dad come out of your mouth.”
He might as well have hit her. She would have hated it less. “I... I don’t... Who doesn’t carry forward the lessons
they learned when they were a kid? Some of us didn’t get to learn lessons outside of our houses. So it’s all I have.”
“I’m standing right in front of you telling you that you have other options. You can’t claim ignorance on this.”
“The hell I can’t, Sheriff. In order to take your advice you have to prove to me that I can respect you.”
“Have I done anything disrespectful?” he asked.
He hadn’t. And she realized they were in a small, and closed bedroom, and he hadn’t made any sort of untoward moves. She had
a feeling he saw her more as a stray puppy than a woman, but then, she also knew that attraction wasn’t what made men behave
that way . It was their desire to control somebody. Well, and to get off. But that wasn’t a particularly flattering thing. So, she wasn’t insulted that he wasn’t making any moves toward her.
And maybe he was right; it should be more of a commendation to his character than she was allowing it to be. Or maybe that
wasn’t even what he meant. Maybe he meant that he had this ranch. This house. That he had enough not just for himself, but
enough to share. Bix had never been able to practice that level of generosity because she’d never even had enough for herself.
“I want pizza.”
“I’ll get us a pizza. It’ll take me about an hour.”
She wondered if she should feel guilty about that. She didn’t. Instead, when he retreated from the bedroom and closed the
door behind him she felt a sense of relief.
She wasn’t going to stay here. It was... She had to admit that it was nice of him. To do all of this. He wasn’t trying
to get anything out of her. She had to concede that too, because if he had wanted her to pay him back, he would have made
his move long before now. Unless he was trying to fatten her up.
She snickered. Maybe he was like one of those witches with the candy house. Maybe he wanted to bake her into a pie. Honestly,
that would track with the trajectory of her life.
A Norman conqueror who took her captive, not to chain her to a bed... but to plump her up like a goose for a Sunday meal.
She looked over at her box of books. Then glared at them. “You haven’t helped me at all. You’ve given me unrealistic expectations.”
She sat on the edge of the bed and let out a hard breath as she looked around the room. She would collect her paycheck next
week. It would be more than enough for the new starter, and she would continue on her way. She didn’t need to listen to him.
She didn’t need for him to get in her head. It wasn’t possible for her to go back. It was impossible for her to claim even
one piece of that silly little dream that she had spouted out to him.
A dream.
A handful of stardust.
A brick. It didn’t matter.
She didn’t have any of it.
And there was no use crying over spilt moonshine.