37
“Come in,” I call when I hear the knock on my door.
A minute later Joel is in my dining room, frowning at me. “How did you know it was me?”
“I was expecting you.”
I’m on my hands and knees scrubbing the tile by the back door where Turbo had his.
..accident. My denims and sweatshirt are splattered with water, my hair is falling out of its claw clip, and I’m wearing rubber gloves so thick they could moonlight at a nuclear plant.
If I wanted to scare Joel away, this should do it.
“Your door was unlocked,” he points out, his frown deepening.
“Uh-huh. Because I knew you were coming.”
He exhales and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Kenzie, please keep your door locked. At all times. Whether or not you know I’m coming.”
I straighten and peel off my gloves. I’m tempted to argue with him, but he gave up his Sunday to help me with Turbo’s training, so I say, “I solemnly swear, from this moment on, to always lock my door.”
He sighs. “I have no idea if you’re serious or not.”
Before I can joke that I am absolutely serious, he crosses to my living room. “There’s a car pulling into your driveway,” he says. “Are you expecting anyone?”
“No.” I join him at the window. My stomach drops when I spot the familiar car and my mom’s excited face in the passenger seat. “It’s my parents.”
“Were you expecting them?” Joel asks.
“No, but sometimes they like to drop by on a Sunday.” I glance over at him. “Would you like to sneak out the back?”
“I’m not sneaking out like some high-school boyfriend,” Joel says. “Anyway, I’m blocked in.”
I shake my head. “I have a feeling my dad did that deliberately to prevent your escape.”
“I guess I’m meeting your parents,” he says on a resigned sigh.
We wait on the front porch while they exit the car.
Mom hurries up the steps first, beaming at Joel. “You must be Joel.”
“I am. Nice to meet you, Mrs. Ellis.” He holds out his hand, which she promptly ignores. Instead, she steps forward to envelop him in a hug. “No need to be so formal. Call me Sue.”
He freezes, his alarmed gaze flying to me.
Smothering a grin, I simply shrug. What can I say? My family are huggers.
After a second, Joel pats her back awkwardly. “Sue.”
Dad navigates the steps at a slower pace. “You must be my soon-to-be son-in-law,” he booms. “Welcome to the family. You can call me Dad.”
Joel blanches.
“Dad,” I scold. “Stop teasing him. You know our engagement isn’t real.”
My father grins. “I couldn’t resist.” He shakes Joel’s hand, silently taking the measure of him. “Nice to meet you, Joel. Call me Ian.”
“I told him to behave himself,” my mom says. “I knew he wouldn’t listen.”
“Hey, a little ribbing builds character,” he protests.
“I hope you don’t mind us dropping by,” my mom says, planting a kiss on my cheek. “We were nearby.”
I bite back a smile. My mother considers anything under a forty-five-minute radius nearby.
“We also brought along a few things,” Mom says casually.
Their few things turn out to be a full lunch spread—a lasagna for the oven, salad fixings, drinks, and a chocolate cheesecake for dessert—plus a whole host of items from the hardware store. Joel helps them carry the bags inside.
Turbo bounds over to greet my parents, who both gush over how handsome he is. They’re animal lovers, so they lavish him with attention, which he happily soaks up. It looks like training is on hold for the afternoon.
While Mom makes herself at home in my kitchen, Dad wanders over to my front door. He looks it up and down with a contemptuous shake of his head.
“Your father is concerned about your door,” Mom says.
“My door is fine.”
“Your door isn’t fine,” Dad maintains. “An intruder could sneeze and he’d be inside.”
“That’s what I’ve been telling her,” Joel says, interest flaring in his face as he joins my dad at the door. “And she leaves it unlocked.”
I stare at him, open-mouthed. Traitor .
My dad looks at me from under his brows. “I taught you better than that, Kenzie Ellis.”
“We just want you safe, honey,” Mom says, switching my oven on. “We know you like to keep your door open to the world, but maybe not literally.”
Dad raps on my front door. “I’ve seen cereal boxes with better structural integrity.”
Joel nods. “A firm opinion could open this door.”
Dad lets out a booming laugh. “That’s a good one. I must remember that.”
“You guys are making a fuss over nothing,” I tell them.
“My daughter forgets other people worry about her,” Dad says to Joel.
“That’s because she worries about everyone else,” Joel says quietly, holding my gaze.
At the look in his eyes, my stomach goes all hot and fluttery.
“You know our Kenzie well.” Dad cocks his head at the door. “What do you think of the lock?”
“Decorative at best.”
“I agree. She needs a new deadbolt.”
“We should look at her windows too,” Joel says. “A few of the latches are flimsy. I’m thinking we could add secondary locks and a dowel in the track for the slider.”
Dad looks at him with fresh eyes, clearly impressed. “Great idea.” He holds up a bag. “Lucky I stopped by the hardware store.”
They move through my cottage, talking and gesturing energetically, bonding over my abysmal security.
Mom comes to stand at my side. “He’s handsome.”
“He is, but don’t get any ideas.”
“And careful about your safety. I like that.” She leaves a pause, then says, “As long as he’s careful with your heart too.”
“Mom, it’s a fake engagement, remember?”
She pats my hand. “Oh, honey, there is nothing fake about the way that man looks at you. Or the way you look at him. He may be quiet, but his eyes aren’t.”
She puts the lasagna in the oven and sets a timer. I wash my hands, take out the salad ingredients, and start chopping.
While the lasagna cooks, Joel and Dad work in easy tandem as though they’ve done a hundred weekend projects together, measuring, tightening, testing. Turbo follows them everywhere.
“You want to give it a kick?” Dad asks when they’re finished with the front door. “See if it’ll hold?”
“I’m in a rental, Dad,” I call from the kitchen. “You can’t go kicking down my doors.”
“Probably not a good idea,” Joel says. “But I think the door will hold.”
“I think so too,” Dad says with satisfaction.
Mom puts the plates on the counter. “Let’s eat before you start reinforcing the roof.”
We eat around my small table. Watching Joel with my family unfurls something warm in my chest. He listens attentively to both of them, fielding my father’s questions with patience and dry humor.
He passes the bread to my mom before taking any for himself and tops up water glasses without being asked.
My parents are easy company, and I’m grateful they keep the conversation centered around work, the neighborhood, and their travels. Laughter floats around the table and the time passes quickly.
After they leave, I close the front door and lean against it with a sigh.
Joel stands there, facing me, and we just stare at each other.
“Thank you,” I say softly, meaning the new locks, but also his kindness to my parents, for making space for them in his life, even briefly.
“They really love you,” he says.
For some reason, his words make my eyes sting. “They do.”
In this moment, I have to do the unthinkable and put myself out there. Let my heart act before my head can argue. Maybe it will change everything for the better. Maybe it will make it worse. But I know I have to try.
“Joel, I’m really falling for you,” I confess, my heart hammering.
“Kenzie, don’t.”
“Don’t want?” I press. “Tell you how I really feel? It’s too late.”
“What do you want from me?” he asks, his voice a rough whisper.
“I want to be the one person you don’t hide the truth from.”
He stiffens, and those dark brows pull together. “You’re asking too much.”
“I don’t think I am.”
His hands tremble slightly at his sides. “You don’t want the truth.”
“I wouldn’t have asked for it if I didn’t want it.”
“Even if it’s ugly and horrible.”
“Even then.”
His lips twist. “You have no idea what you’re asking,” he says harshly. “You’re ignorant and naive. What are you imagining? A stable future with children and Little League games. You can’t have that with me.”
“I know what you’re doing,” I say softly. “You think if you’re distant and rude enough to me, I’ll give up and stay away from you.” I shake my head. “You don’t know me very well. I don’t give up on people easily. Especially those who mean a lot to me.”
He groans, dropping the facade and looking tormented instead. “Kenzie, don’t do this to me. There’s so much about me that I’m afraid for you to know. You need to stay away.”
“I think that’s the last thing either you or I need.”
“There are a hundred reasons to walk away from you,” he whispers, “but every time I’m in the same room with you, every time you look at me with those blue eyes I can drown in, I forget every single one of them.”
His words make my heart soar. But the lost look on his face makes it ache in equal measure.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I step forward and wrap my arms around him, holding on tight.
His body goes taut beneath my touch, as though he doesn’t know what to do with my affection. For the briefest moment, I think he might push me away.
And then, slowly, something shifts. His big, strong arms come around me, and he pulls me in. And it’s something in the way he exhales, in the way his body relaxes, that tells me just how badly he needs to be held, as though no one’s done it in a very, very long time.
Perhaps healing isn’t always about being whole, but about being held.
A wordless moment follows, where I lose myself in the way we fit together, and he lets me carry a little bit of whatever he’s been holding on his own for so long.
I breathe in the scent of him and then I step back slightly and turn his face toward mine. I need him to look at me.
“Aren’t you tired of being alone?” I ask gently.
“I’m not alone,” he replies, so soft I can barely catch the words. “I’m living with my ghosts, and they never leave me alone.”
“You can let me in,” I tell him quietly. “It’s okay to let people in. It’s okay to let me in.”
“You don’t understand,” he says, and I can feel the heat and tension and turmoil pouring off him. “You don’t know my ugly pieces, the atrocities of my past—”
“I know you,” I say firmly. “Not past Joel. But Now Joel. And I like him very much.”
Truthfully, like doesn’t cover how I feel about him.
I’m intensely and insanely attracted to him.
I’ve never felt such a physical pull before, but I also feel a deeper connection that goes beyond the physical.
His enigmatic nature only pulls me in deeper.
He fascinates me as much as he confuses and confounds me.
My curiosity about him is voracious. I want to know every detail about him, his past, his family, his work. I have so many questions and so few answers.
“I will end up telling you the truth,” he says at last, his eyes meeting mine. “But not today.”
“Joel—”
“Please. I don’t have the strength or the stamina to rehash those memories today,” he says, his voice tired.
Well, I’m tired too. I’m tired of him editing his words. I’m tired of his carefully worded evasions.
“I can be your strength,” I whisper. “Just for today.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t want you looking at me differently. I don’t want you stiffening when I come near. Let’s leave it like this between us. At least for now.”
He pulls me into his chest again and holds me, silencing my arguments. And coward that I am, I let him. Because as much as I want the truth, a small part of me is afraid that the darkness hovering over him could engulf me as well.