Chapter 8 #2
His fingers caught my left wrist before I could pull away, pushing the fabric up just enough.
I jerked back, but it was a second too slow.
The bruises bloomed into the open air between us.
He pushed the sleeve up further, beyond the finger marks to where I had blocked my father’s slap. My damned pale skin showed everything.
Silence crackled between us despite the restaurant noise.
His eyes lifted slowly to mine and locked onto me in a way that made my pulse stutter. He’d gone dangerous in that quiet, controlled way that was always worse.
His voice dropped, rougher and lower. “That wasn’t there this morning. Did you go out to your dad’s place?”
“I had to get stuff for Misty.” My throat tightened around everything I wasn’t going to say out loud. I pulled my wrist out of his hand and rapidly pulled the sleeve back into place.
“I’m back,” Deck cut in, all noise and movement, like he’d just won something. “Here are the keys to the build, Timothy. I grabbed them out of my truck.” He held them out.
Timothy didn’t acknowledge Deck. He didn’t blink. His focus stayed pinned to me, as if I might disappear if he let it slip. I could feel that pull toward him in my chest, low and traitorous. That awful, aching flicker of something warm spooked me.
I chanced looking into his eyes again.
Oh, God.
He saw me. No one ever really did. No one could see through my shields to what I hid from the world.
Not even Justin had ever seen me. Even after a long, terrible day at work or after I’d been yelled at by a client or kicked by a horse or on days when things stacked up until I stopped noticing the weight…
Justin never saw it. He accepted not looking beyond what I gave him.
Or maybe he’d never cared to look further.
But Timothy never accepted the surface. I hated how much I wanted that from him.
I hated myself even more that I’d been the one to break what had been between us all those years ago. Even if I hadn’t had a choice.
“Timothy, are you trying to steal my date?” Deck grinned like the idea was a joke and there was no version of the world where Timothy would choose me.
Timothy still didn’t look at him. He said low and controlled, “You shouldn’t have come back, not with…that still a problem.” His eyes flickered to my arms.
The words twisted deep into my chest.
“I didn’t have a choice. My sister…” My voice came out steadier than I felt.
I held his gaze, searching it, trying to read which version of him I was sitting in front of.
Was this the Timothy who never forgave me?
Or the one who’d seen my wrist and was barely holding the line?
“She’s dying. I’m the only one she’s got to see her through the treatments. ”
Something flickered in his eyes. It was gone too fast to name. But it wasn’t indifference.
Deck’s smile faltered. “I’m not sure what’s going on here, but Timothy, I think it’s time you head on so I can resume my time with my date.” He grabbed Timothy’s hand and shoved the keys into it.
Timothy’s fingers closed around them like he wanted to crush the metal. His gaze dropped again to my wrist.
That was the tell. He was holding the line.
I shoved my hands further under the table.
A muscle in his cheek ticked hard enough to make me wonder if he was grinding his teeth. He seemed to be one wrong word away from snapping, from turning this into something loud and irreversible.
Then the emotion was gone. Shuttered. Locked down.
He stood, cast Deck one harsh glare, and walked away.
My chest pulled tight and sharp. I had this stupid, overwhelming urge to go after him. I longed to catch his arm and make him look at me again. I wanted to make sure he wasn’t about to do something reckless. Or maybe—
Maybe I wanted him to pull me in like he used to. I wanted to hear his low voice tell me: I’ve got you.
I swallowed hard. I’d missed him so deep on the inside that I’d forgotten what being in his presence felt like.
But whatever we’d been wasn’t something you could step back into. Not with everything I had broken between us. Some things don’t get a second chance. Even when you wanted them to.
“How exactly do you know him?” Deck slid into the vacated seat. Nothing about Deck was relaxed or playful anymore.
I stared at Deck, unwilling to give him a piece of anything I shared with Timothy. I also refused to discuss what I no longer had.
“Something you won’t talk about it.” He stared at the exit for a moment then back at me.
“Something he sure as hell won’t talk about.
” He released a long exhale. “Listen, Gia, I think you’re pretty and all, but I’ve never seen Timothy act like that.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the past few years, it’s to stay the hell out of that man’s way when the silent, scary-as-fuck side of him comes out.
Whatever you and he are fighting or not fighting about, it’s complicated enough for me not to be in the middle of it. ”
Deck was a smarter cookie than expected.
I chose my words carefully. “Fair enough.”
Then he grinned. “Unless you want to make it complicated.”
My phone vibrated. I pulled it out to see a text from Josh Hurst.
Josh: I hate to ask, but bit of a personal issue came up. Can you take a call tonight? It’s a horse colic about twenty minutes away.
Gia: Send me the details. I’ll go pick up the work truck.
“I think you’re right, at least for now,” I said. “I just got a farm call. Let’s call it a night.”