Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Sam
Tears stream from my eyes as Evie cackles and I am laughing so hard, I’m silent.
“That baby just looked at me with his big blue eyes and made this little sound, then said, ‘Mama!’ and went on smearing. Like it wasn’t two o’clock in the morning and he wasn’t diaper diving.
” She shakes her head. “I honestly could’ve thrown up right there.
There should be some kind of reward for not losing your damn mind to your own child painting with feces. ”
“Noooo.” I cover my eyes, but I’m still laughing. Her little boy is so cute and innocent, but apparently, he’s a little tyrant when it comes to testing her.
“Anyway,” she exhales long and slow. “Declan—Dr. Ryan.” She shakes her head. “He could tell I was exhausted, so he brought me lunch and suggested I take a nap in his office instead of a regular lunch break.”
My eyes widen and she rushes to explain.
“The clinic closes for an hour so everyone can break at the same time. Since he’s often the only doctor anymore, there’s no point in staying open if we can’t see clients.
There’s just no demand for it. So everyone eats in the break room, or goes out, whatever.
And he has a couch in his office. If I hadn’t been so desperate, I wouldn’t have said yes.
And he made sure I knew, before he even mentioned it, that he would be gone the entire break.
And I insisted on paying him back for the food. ”
The way she ducks her head gives me pause. “Hey, I don’t blame you. He could offer you a break when you needed one, and he solved the no groceries problem by bringing lunch. I’m sorry you were so exhausted, but I’m really glad he did that.”
She nods but still doesn’t meet my eyes. “Yeah. Me, too.”
“Then what’s…” When she finally looks up, I see it. A kind of misery I didn’t see coming is etched in the lines of her brow and the way her mouth turns down. “Oh, honey.”
She sniffs. “Yeah. Pretty pathetic, right? I fall for the first guy who’s nice to me like some kind of charity case.”
“Nah. In that case, from what you told me, you would’ve fallen for Grant, right? He literally helped you have your baby, and you’ve mentioned several times how nice he is.” I raise a brow because there is no denying she’s been on a mission to make sure I know what a good man Grant Ryan is.
“True.”
“See? So it’s not just ‘the first man.’ It sounds like Declan is different.”
She flops back on the couch and covers her face. “He is so different. From anyone I’ve ever known. And it’s killing me.”
“It’s not. And who knows, maybe he—”
“No. Honestly, no. I cannot afford to think like that. I’m sorry I even let on about this to you.
” Her brows pinch in desperation. “Please don’t mention it again.
My pathetic little heart needs less than no encouragement to just plummet straight into the ground with this one, and I don’t think I can take it after… ”
After fleeing from her abusive fiancé. After having her baby on the side of the road instead of in a hospital because her ex attacked and kidnapped her. After rebuilding herself and her life, but as a single mom now.
Yeah. I get it.
I’m not a mom, but on some level, girl, do I get it.
“I promise I won’t. If anyone can understand the need to start fresh, it’s me.”
She grabs for my hand and squeezes. “You doing okay?”
“I’m good. Better than I ever imagined for just a few weeks here.” And as we sit on the couch and laugh at a movie in her adorable downtown apartment, the truth of those words resonates in me. I’ve been laughing. I’ve been crying.
I’ve let myself feel, and I’ve had the privilege to experience more than just shame and frustration and a gut-level determination to get myself out of a situation of my own making.
By the end of the night, I’m exhausted, but so grateful to have a friend. My car putters along in the night, and even the dark roads and iffy sound my muffler’s been making can’t dull my spirits. I climb out of the little car, glad to be home and so close to my bed.
“How was your girls’ night?”
His deep voice makes me jump and I fumble my keys and purse as I swing around to see Grant Ryan standing there looking dark and handsome and relaxed.
I’ve definitely never seen him in such a state—he has sweatpants low on his hips and slippers, and up top he’s got nothing but a T-shirt with a giant smiley face on it.
“Sorry. I’m sorry. I should know better than to sneak up on someone at night.” He runs his free hand through his hair, which draws my eyes to his ridiculous, muscular arms and the way the shirt pulls up and hints at bare skin underneath.
Tragically, it’s pitch-dark save the light over his porch and my door, so I only see the shadowy suggestion.
Pity.
This thought sends a little jolt through me, and I start moving toward my door so I don’t stay there and ogle the man in his own driveway.
“No problem. I should be more aware.” And really, I should be. I must be. It’s amazing to think of how quickly the hypervigilance I developed in the last few years has melted away. Not completely, because when does a woman lose that entirely? But for moments like this?
Apparently so.
“Wait, sorry. I should’ve said, this is for you.”
I turn to see him a few feet away holding out a glass container with a lid.
“It’s some leftovers from dinner tonight. My folks insisted I bring you some since you couldn’t be there.”
“Thank you. That’s so kind.” I’m stunned. I even feel a little guilty now, like maybe I should’ve planned to be there. Was it rude I didn’t go?
It shouldn’t be that shocking because I’ve been on the receiving end of so much generosity and kindness since arriving here, but for some reason, this hits me hard and a nasty little voice whispers, don’t they know you’re not worth this effort?
“They missed you. Made me promise to send you their love and express their hopes you’ll join us next week.” He has the hint of a wry smile on his face.
Ugh. Stop. Halt. Cease and desist with that business.
The striking lines in his cheeks and around his eyes, that flash of white teeth…
it’s enough to put a woman into an altered state.
It might as well be a set of abs turning my corn kernel eyes into popped corn for the way my heart is bouncing around in my chest and every atom is lit with interest after such a small gesture.
“Huh.” It’s the wrong response, but it’s all I can manage.
He steps closer and hands it to me. I accept the heavy container, gripping it with both hands.
I should say thank you again, or step away and go inside, but something keeps me there, and when I look up into his face, his eyes are boring into me.
“You deserve kindness, Sam. I hope you know that. I hope none of my trash personality has made you question that for a second.” He reaches out like he’s going to touch me but shrinks away at the last second and lets his hand fall. “Night.”
I’m nodding, begging my tongue to thaw and my mind to jumpstart into speech. But I just watch him go with a fearsome little voice echoing through me that says I like him.
Aw, shit. I really do like him.
I haven’t liked anyone in years. That sounds insane coming from someone who was married for eighteen months and has only been divorced for a little over a year now, but it’s true. I’m not sure I ever liked my ex. I tried to love him, at least in some way, but I never liked him.
This is worse. This is dangerous.
I haven’t felt a pull like this in… ever. And I can’t afford to like my landlord, a single dad and town hero and boy scout of the mountain range when I’m a nobody from the city. If something goes wrong between us, I’ll lose not only my apartment, but a place that is rapidly feeling like home.
I like his family, I like this town, and despite all evidence of our first few meetings, I like him. He’s gorgeous, yes, but he’s sweet to the people he cares about, and he’s good, and he’s ultimately quite kind.
It’s all so far from anything I’ve had, and it’s what I’m now cruelly forced to realize I deeply want. Now that one need is satisfied—new job and living situation acquired—my greedy little heart wants more.
Looks like my plan is working—I’m giving myself space and stars and time… and sure enough, I’m finding out what I want.
And now Evie’s desperation, her pain, makes even more sense.