16. It’s Not A Date—Is It?
IT’S NOT A DATE—IS IT?
OLIVIA
“You’re quiet,” I say quietly as we pull into the diner.
“Sorry. I don’t think I realized it would be this hard to have another scan. I guess I thought those days were behind me. I mean, I think I’m fine, but having the scan made me worry I’m not. I don’t like the panic I feel at the thought of things being out of my control,” Lake explains.
I don’t even think. I reach out and cap my hand over his. “You’re not panicking. You are remembering and pushing through it,” I counter, giving him the words that my therapist uses to reassure me.
He gives me a sad smile. “I’ll be okay, Livy. Don’t worry about me,” he says, as we get out of the truck. He laughs as I meet him at the front of the vehicle. “Woman, you’re supposed to wait for me to open your door,” he chastises.
I giggle and roll my eyes at him. “You’re being silly.”
“You need to learn the kind of man I am, Livy,” he responds.
A sudden chill runs down my spine. It’s so odd, but I can remember Bear saying that over and over.
The kind of man I am. It’s something common.
I’m sure thousands of people say it often.
Lake’s voice is hoarse and deeper than Bear’s, but the surety of it brings memories I’ve missed so much.
“What’s that look for?” he asks, as we walk into the diner.
“Just something you said tugged at an old memory,” I respond honestly as we walk to a booth by the window.
“I hope it was a good one,” he says quietly as we sit down.
“It was,” I assure him. After a couple of minutes, a waitress comes by and takes our drink order and hands us a couple of menus.
“Do you eat here often?” Lake asks.
“I’m not sure. I average once or twice every couple of weeks. Is that often?” I respond.
“I’m not sure about most people, but it is for me.
I usually just make something at the house.
It’s hard for me to be around people. When I woke up in the hospital, I had horrible burns and scars on my face.
Being around others was hard. They’d stare, point, and whisper about me.
I don’t care how hard I tried, I never got used to it. ”
“Oh no, Lake. I’m so sorry. If it helps, I don’t see a lot of scarring on you. You’re kind of hot, so if anyone stares at you, it’s because of how good you look.”
“You think I look good?” he asks, and it’d take an idiot not to hear the surprise in his voice.
Heat rises in my face. In my haste to reassure him that no one was looking at him because of his injuries, I didn’t think about how it might sound. I’m an idiot. “I uh …”
“Yeah?” he prompts, and I can tell he’s fighting a smile.
“Okay, stop,” I laugh. “You’re picking on me now. You know you’re hot. I mean, for an older guy.”
“Older guy? Ouch!”
I giggle until I snort because I can’t catch my breath. This makes something happen hasn’t before. Lake laughs with me. It’s not a small sound either. It’s full of joy and for some reason—one I don’t want to decipher—it makes me happy.
“Aren’t older men the in thing these days?” I quip.
“I have no idea, but since I don’t really know how old I am, I’m going to say I’m thirty.”
I look at him and smile. “Then, I’m going to say I’m nineteen.”
“With that cute little pixie face you could pass for nineteen.” I scrunch my nose up. “What?” he asks, watching me closely.
“No girl wants a guy to say she’s cute and pixie faced.
What does that even mean? Girls want to be gorgeous, beautiful.
A face that launches a thousand ships has more power than oh look at that pixie face,” I explain, like I know what I’m talking about.
Mostly, I just want to keep the smile on his face.
I know today was super hard for him. I saw the way he tightened up the minute we walked into the hospital for an MRI.
I didn’t go into the doctor’s office with him.
I sat outside in the lobby. He didn’t tell me what was said, and I didn’t ask.
Still, I’m not sure it was good news because he came out very solemn.
I wanted to ask, but I didn’t figure it was my place.
We’re friends, and very new at being that.
“I never understood that saying, a face that launched a thousand ships.”
“It’s referring to Helen of Troy and how beautiful she was,” I lamely explain. Before I can talk about the war, his next words stop me completely.
“It could be saying she’s so ugly that the ships all set sail to get away from her.” I open my mouth, but snap it shut. “Besides, Tinkerbell was a pixie, right? She’s sexy as hell, much better than Wendy.”
He’s grinning at me, and I join in, just shaking my head. “I may never look at the movie Peter Pan the same.”
“Just know I think you’re beautiful,” he adds in, and the words make me feel flushed all over my body, and then reality sets in and I go cold.
“Do you know what you’re having?” I ask quietly, changing the subject while staring down at my menu.
“Hey,” he said. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?” I ask, looking up, but refusing to look into his eyes.
“Shut down. I didn’t mean to scare you, Livy.”
I finally force myself to look at him, confused. “You didn’t scare me. I just know that I’m not beautiful. I might have been passable once, but that was a very long time ago. Besides, it’s not important. Anything built on beauty doesn’t last. Life changes us all and eventually we get old.”
“You really don’t see how special you are, do you?”
“I’m not special,” I deny at once. “I’m just me. How about we figure out what we’re going to order?”
“You’re special to me and so many around you, Livy. Don’t sell yourself short.”
“What’s your favorite meal here?” I ask Lake, hoping he lets it drop.
“I’m thinking beef stew. It’s fall, which means it’s time for comfort food. You?”
“That sounds good,” I admit, and mean it. That’s one of my favorite meals in the cooler parts of the year. The diner here makes everything from scratch, too. It’s one of the few places you can get real home cooking.
He grins. “It’s a good sign we have the same tastes.”
“A good sign?” I ask, my heart speeding up.
“Friends are supposed to have similar tastes. If we had nothing in common, what would we have to talk about?” he asks easily.
“Oh. Yeah, I guess you’re right.” His words should make me feel better. I’m not sure why my emotions are so out of control when it comes to Lake. It’s confusing and silly. If Lake knew what a mess my mind was, he’d stop talking to me. I wouldn’t blame him.
“You seem to be doing good after your therapy session,” he acknowledges mid-bite.
“Yeah. It was an easy session. I mostly just talk about things and that’s getting easier. How about you? I noticed you came back from the doctor’s office more tense.”
“There wasn’t a lot to tell me. He looked at the preliminary shit and said everything looked okay. I’ve been having some problems, though. He wants to get everything back and then access me.”
“What kind of problems are you having?” I ask at once.
Even I can hear the way my voice is threaded with heavy concern.
I can’t help it. In the short time that I’ve spent time with Lake, he’s become important to me.
There’s a pull inside me when he’s around.
He eases a lot of the pain I’ve carried inside of me.
I don’t know how or why—I just know it’s true.
“It’s not important,” he says, obviously not comfortable with the topic. I can understand that, but I can’t help the worry I feel either.
“Lake, if you’re sick, I want to know. I know I probably can’t help but I can be here for you,” I whisper, feeling awkward.
“You’d care?”
His words make something inside of me jolt painfully.
I remember that feeling. After Bear died, when I was cut off from my father and a prisoner to the hell my brother made sure I’d experience daily, I’d feel so alone that I grew cold to the pain.
After a while, it was as if everything was happening to someone else.
Winnie had called it disassociation. My mind shut down, unable to take more, so it felt like I was only a spectator seeing everything that was happening, as if it didn’t truly involve me.
One person caring back then would have meant the world. It might have even saved me.
“I care,” I admit. I tell myself that friends care about one another.
That’s all this is. That’s all my heart has room for this to be.
Yet, part of me knows that I’m lying. Lake feels like a safe place to land in a storm, like a dream that comes to soothe your mind, the sunlight in the morning shining down on your body—reassuring you that everything will be okay.
Somewhere deep down, in a place that I can’t allow air into, I know Lake feels like a home—in a way that Bear did, in a way that Blade did, in the way that Winnie does, Cross does, and now the Wells brothers. Home.
Lake reaches over for my hand, squeezing it. The waitress shows back up for our orders. I start to pull my hand away. Lake’s grip tightens, not willing to lose this connection we’ve forged. He gives her our food choices, then centers his gaze back on me, my hand still secure in his.
“I’m just having headaches and staying tired, Livy. I’m sure everything is okay. The doctors are just being thorough and making sure. I don’t plan on going anywhere, especially now.”
“Now?” I ask. Then I take a breath. “I’m sorry, Lake.”
“What are you sorry about?” he asks.
“I’m pushing you and I have no right to. It’s not my place to know what’s going on. I’m using my concern for you to try to get you to confide in me, and that’s wrong.”
“If not you, then who, Livy? You’re the only person I’ve ever wanted to confide in. Carson and his brothers have been damn good to me. I owe them more than I could ever repay. You’re different.”
“I’m so sorry. I still believe you should talk to someone, but of course Colt or one of the others would be the ones you would lean on. You know them better. All I ask is that you don’t hold it in. I know better than anyone what happens when you hold in issues and the emotions they stir, Lake.”
We go quiet as our food is put in front of us. I cut open the biscuits and start slathering butter on them—mostly to keep myself busy. I place both on the small saucer beside Lake.
“One of those is yours,” he says, watching me with an intensity that is practically overwhelming.
“You need it. You do a lot of physical labor all day. Besides, I’m particular on my biscuits. That’s the one thing I don’t really like here at the diner.”
“I’ll make a note. Which place has the biscuits you like?”
“My house,” I whisper with a grin.
He laughs, and the sound warms me. Somewhere deep inside, I compare it to Bear’s laughter.
Lake’s is deeper and rougher in sound, but it’s similar too.
I smile because it makes me feel peaceful.
“I don’t know, these are pretty good,” he banters, his voice playful despite his graveled tone—which I’m starting to really like.
“Mine are better,” I brag shamelessly.
“Maybe you can cook for me sometime and prove it.”
“It’s a deal,” I laugh.
We eat quietly. He asks me simple questions in between bites, and I do the same. It’s relaxing and much needed after the way I pushed him to talk about his injuries and doctor appointment.
“I meant what I said, Livy,” Lake says as he puts his napkin down. I look down at our finished dinner and then lift my gaze up to him.
“What’s that?”
“You’re the only person I’d like to share these issues with. Maybe we could talk about it after I take you home tonight. It’s less public. Is that okay?”
My heart speeds up, and it feels as if it flip-flops in my chest. Part of me wants to say no.
A bigger part of me knows that turning him away could hurt him.
If Winnie hadn’t been with me after I got free from Douglas, I’m pretty sure I’d be dead.
Sure, life isn’t great, but I have moments where I’m almost happy.
I know I’ll never be as carefree as I was when Bear was alive, but it still feels better than it did before I met Lake. I can’t deny that.
“Sure, but only if you want to,” I reassure him.
“Livy?”
I look up in surprise and my gaze lands on Blade and Winnie.
I expect the guilt to slam down on me. I mean, I’m out with a guy after telling Blade I’ll never get over Bear.
That’s enough to condemn me. I don’t even need to bring in the fact that Blade and I were close to marriage at one time.
Winnie is studying me carefully, and that worries me even more.
My best friend is trained to see things that other people can’t.
She was my therapist and my best friend. She knows me inside and out. Damn it.
I force a smile onto my face. “Hey guys,” I say quietly.
I can feel Lake watching me, but I ignore it for now.
I can’t allow myself to feel guilty. I’m not.
Lake and I are just friends, and even if we weren’t, Blade has moved on and is over-the-moon happy with Winnie.
I’m just being silly. Still, Blade would have every right to judge me.
He was Bear’s brother. I try to prepare myself for the worst. No matter what Blade says, I’ll survive.
I’ve been through worse.