Chapter 20 #2
I was just thinking that the fancier start, with the amount of care Bruce gave, was better than casual.
But he’s managed to give me an option with both .
. . the picnic. A nod to what we used to do, a return to our roots, so to speak, and an opportunity to actually talk, which terrifies me but is what Michelle advised that I do, mixed in with her jokes about sex.
And it sounds like he put a lot of work into the picnic and I don’t want that to go to waste.
I hope this is the right decision. I smile and offer my choice. “Let’s do the picnic.”
Bruce’s smile is huge, so opposite to the grumpy asshole I met weeks ago. I like this version better, even though he’s more of a danger to my heart. “It was the chocolate dip, wasn’t it? I know you can’t pass up sweets.”
He does know that. He knows so much about me, but he’s missing a big piece of the puzzle.
I try to prepare myself because I know he’s going to ask me some hard questions tonight, and I need to answer them.
He’s shared so much with me—his story, his newly expanded family, and his intentions. Meanwhile, I’ve run every chance I got.
“Bring on the chocolate!” I cheer, because I’m done running. It’s silly, but it does the trick and he laughs. The engine roars a bit as we speed up, leaving city center for the outer edge of town.
I know where he’s going. It was always our place, and that awareness sends tingles through me.
It’s where we would escape everything to focus on each other, it’s where we said ‘I love you’ the first time, it’s where we both lost our virginity to each other, and it’s where we said goodbye.
It’s definitely symbolic for us to have our first date there again. I just hope it’s a good sign.
We drive through a copse of green trees, the very tips of which are starting to hint at the yellow of fall that’s coming quickly.
There’s a climb, and then we pop out into a clearing that overlooks all of Great Falls.
It’s blessedly empty, other than us, and that sends a fresh round of tingles through me at the possibilities.
Not that I’m letting Michelle’s craziness get to me. Nope, not in the least.
Nor am I thinking about how good Bruce looks all dressed up tonight, or how hot he looks all sweaty at practice in baggy athletic shorts, or how sexy he was when he delivered that watermelon water with his abs on display.
And I’m definitely not thinking about how his kisses alone have led me to take matters into my own hands, even after he fingered me to that earth-shattering orgasm.
Nope, just a date. Dinner and talking. That’s it.
I don’t believe it, either. But a girl’s gotta have goals. They’ve been my saving grace over the last few years and might keep me making good choices for the next few hours.
“Stay there,” he instructs me as he gets out.
He comes around, opening my door and helping me down.
He’s not doing it because this is a date.
Bruce always did things like that. He might look like a big beast of a man, but Mrs. Martha taught him right and he’s got manners and always treated me well.
It’s good to know that hasn’t changed, especially since my appreciation for it has grown.
He leads me to the back of the truck and holds out a hand for me to wait while he gets to work.
In minutes, he’s turned the bed of the truck into a luxurious spread with a thick egg crate cushion covered with a soft blanket.
He moves a cooler from the backseat into the bed and then examines his work. It looks pretty, nice and cozy.
Satisfied, he turns and offers me a hand. I take it, and he pulls me close, his hands going to my waist. “Hop up.”
He helps me sit on the tailgate, and then his hands catch my right foot, where he unfastens the ankle strap of my sandal. It feels oddly intimate, and my breath catches. He notices, his thumb tracing along my arch before he slips the left one off too.
“Scoot back.” He lifts his chin toward the cab, indicating for me to climb into the truck bed. He shucks his boots too and follows me. I notice that even his socks are pristine tonight, and it makes me all the more tingly inside.
Yes, I’m getting turned on by socks. I really do need help.
“Hungry?” he rumbles, and I don’t think he’s talking about those sandwiches, but my stomach answers anyway. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
He opens the cooler, handing me a thick foil square. He sets one down for himself too and then pours wine into plastic cups.
“Ooh, fancy,” I tease, holding up the cup before taking a small sip. “Good, though.”
“Katelyn told me what to buy,” he admits. “She works at the resort and knows all about that stuff. But I have other talents.”
He’s flirting again. I make a quick call that I like it and play along. “You do have some big talents.”
He seems pleased with my favorable response, which breaks the tension as we both grin and dive into the sandwiches.
Somehow, it all goes okay. I don’t say anything weird, he doesn’t press me, and we talk about everything and nothing, laughing and flirting, the thread of connection that had been snapped between us comfortably knitting itself back together strand by strand as the sun goes down and the sky turns indigo.
Stars begin to twinkle, and the air gets the slightest chill, celebrating that fall is coming soon.
Having thought of everything, Bruce grabs a light blanket and lays it over our laps before pulling me to his side and wrapping an arm around me.
He’s a big furnace, warming me instantly.
Though that might not be entirely because he runs so hot but rather because his body is hard to my softness, making me all too aware of him.
He seems unaffected, or at least is pretending to be, as he simply snuggles with me, eyes on the sky.
After a while, I can feel his arms tense around me, hugging me tight.
“I missed this,” he whispers into my hair, and goosebumps break out along my skin.
It’s a confession on his part, highlighting how amazing the evening has been.
It was always comfortable and easy with Bruce, and tonight feels like we slipped right back into that groove together.
That time and space where there was an us. Or maybe where there is an us.
I owe him more than I’ve given so far. I know that, even as I loathe dipping into the past. I have fought those demons into boxes, their own personal prison cells.
I wrapped them in layers of tape and shoved the stacks of them away into the recesses of my mind.
But for him, maybe I can take off a single layer of tape, not on the biggest, ugliest monsters, but on the little ones? He deserves that.
“After we . . .” I don’t finish the sentence.
He knows what I mean. I go for the ‘after’ instead.
“I was devastated, shattered. College was hard for me, Bruce. I was nervous, but I don’t think I ever considered it would be what it was.
I pictured going to class, studying in the quad under a tree like some stupid pamphlet picture.
I thought my roommate and me would be best friends and it would all be so easy. It wasn’t, not by a long shot.”
He doesn’t say anything, but I can feel his support, his strength. He’s letting me do this at my own pace.
“My roommate hated me on sight, called me a Barbie Bitch just because I was a blonde cheerleader. She made my dorm life hell, turned a lot of the girls against me from the get-go. But I made a few friends in my pre-law classes. We were all so busy, though, and the competition is fierce, so even the people I called friends would bail when I did better on a test than they did. It was lonely, and I lived for those Friday phone calls.”
“I’m sorry, Al.” He sounds truly remorseful, but it’s not on him. We both made mistakes and should’ve just talked to one another.
I duck down deeper into his side, my cheek against his chest as I confess. “After, I was vulnerable. I didn’t realize it at the time, but Jeremy took advantage of that.” He goes tense, and I can feel a slight vibration in his chest. He’s growling at my statement. “No, no . . . not like that.”
“He just . . .” I search for the words. “He liked me weak. It gave him a chance to save me, to be the hero.” Such a simple statement, but it took me a long time to recognize that truth. “We were happy for a while. He did help me get over you, in a way. But it was because he seemed safe.”
I laugh ironically at how not-safe Jeremy really was, but I’m not digging out that particular box, not tonight and maybe not ever.
“Safe?” Bruce asks. “Did you feel unsafe with me?” I know he’s talking about his size, about the nickname he earned on the field, about how people expected him to be this monster off the field too.
I shake my head, sitting up to look in his eyes.
It’s dark, but this close, I can see the reflection of the moon in the blackness.
He looks hurt. “No, I always felt safe with you. Jeremy, he was safe emotionally. I liked him, I even loved him for a while, but not like you. I wasn’t in love with him like I was with you, and I think that was one of the things I liked about him.
Jeremy and I just got stuck. Because of Cooper. ”
I settle back against him, and his hand caresses up and down my arm, soothing me so I can do this.
“We got married because I was pregnant, and I changed my major so I could be a paralegal. It was all coming together, not exactly what I’d planned, but I could see that it had the potential to be a good life.
Jeremy had very specific ideas about what our life was supposed to look like, though, and we fought about that a lot.
It wasn’t pretty, and sometimes, he didn’t treat me well,” I say carefully.
Bruce is a smart man, despite his fears to the contrary, and he’s always been attuned to my every thought and reaction, so I need to walk this fine line carefully or I’m going to end up pulling out every demon-stuffed box and letting him peruse through my damage.
His voice is tight. “What do you mean, he ‘didn’t treat you well’?”
I have no doubt that Bruce would beat the ever-loving fuck out of Jeremy at my slightest word, and I don’t want that. I’ve moved on, or at least I am moving on, day by day, minute by minute, consciously challenging the now-rare occasion when I hear Jeremy’s voice in my mind spouting ugliness.
I shake my head, not wanting to get into that.
“I’m good now, and that’s all that matters.
He’s out of my life, out of Cooper’s life.
We got divorced when Cooper was two and half, so he barely remembers Jeremy.
The papers are sealed and he gave up parental rights.
He’s gone, which is exactly what I want.
I wouldn’t change any of it, not even what happened between you and me, because whatever twisted path I went on, it got me that little boy, and he’s my everything. We’re happy, just the two of us.”
But could there be more? a new voice whispers.
No, not a new voice. An old one . . . my own. I am happy with our little family of two, but maybe Bruce and Michelle and even my own quiet hopes are right and I could have more. I could have Bruce.