Chapter 18
T hanksgiving with Liv was lovely, as always.
I used to hold out hope that my mom would get it together and at least be sober enough to come with us.
She never was. We were in elementary school when Olivia’s mom noticed the severity of our situation and started inviting us over after school and including us in anything she could.
When dad was still around, mom at least made some effort because he expected dinner on the table, so to speak. Holidays were never joyous occasions until we became Olivia’s surrogate sisters.
We used to bring home a plate of leftovers for mom. But after enough years when the food would go bad sitting on the coffee table in front of her dazed shell or her throwing it at us because we were “ungrateful little bitches,” we stopped bothering.
I'm still confused as to what went wrong the day Reid dropped me off after the Dreamhouse trip. I’ve played it back in my head so many times the tape has unraveled from the cassette. No work for an entire week left ample time to overthink and overanalyze the past month.
I thought we came to an unspoken truce after the football game.
I chose to forgive him and move on for the sake of our working relationship.
It seemed to work for a couple of weeks.
And by worked, I mean, we returned to our previous state of Reid being a ridiculously handsome dickhead and me biting my tongue to remain polite and professional.
Then he confronted me in the library and all but exposed my entrails to the open air. And to my surprise and horror, he showed up at my house and swept me away to the Dreamhouse.
The time we spent together was incredible. Our energies flowed so naturally, and being near him felt right. For the first time in years, I felt comfortable enough to go bare faced in front of someone other than my sister or Olivia.
My self-consciousness eroded, all because that man let me see him “bare” as well. He kept his hat off unless he was working and tried to keep his hair out of his face.
He cooked for me all weekend and we coexisted in a warm, sleepy, cozy bubble.
He opened up to me and told me about his ranch, pieces of his life that helped me understand who he is at a cellular level.
Not the Reid he projects with a cold gruff exterior to protect himself.
Not the arrogant playboy he was for so many years.
A Reid I want to know every detail about.
I want to crawl into his life and be a part of it. The feeling terrifies me.
He took far too much pleasure from the revelation of my horrific childhood crush. It was worth it for the smiles and laughs my story pulled from him.
He's gorgeous, plain and simple. He's the epitome of a man to me, my ultimate type. To be honest with myself, he's the only man I’ve ever lusted after, and I compare everyone to him. No one ever measured up and I didn’t even truly know him.
Not to mention I got a front row seat to his amusement park body.
Let’s just say I burned every bulge and ripple into my hippocampus.
I definitely don’t pull up a montage of said images every time I feel the hot water sluice over my naked body in the shower, or when I lay in my empty bed at night and my hand wanders between my legs.
Nope.
Definitely not.
He liked my drawing of Lucky Spurs Ranch. I was terrified he was furious with me for inserting myself into his privacy. Instead, what I saw was tenderness and joy. The story of his grandfather and his lucky spurs is woven into the fabric of Reid Andersen.
For the first time, I saw him. I see him.
I didn’t want to leave the Dreamhouse, not ready for our bubble to pop.
As if I wasn’t already a hopeless goner for the man, his actions at the Mexican restaurant sealed the deal for me.
He unapologetically bared his scars to a restaurant full of patrons, so that I'd be less uncomfortable without my makeup.
But the next thing I knew, he shut down like an industrial garage door slammed down between us and I lost him. Was it something I said? Or did he realize we come from two completely different worlds and that something more would never work?
Monday morning comes too soon, and I'm both dreading seeing Reid, and itching to be near him again. I'm so pathetic waiting at his feet like a stray dog begging for scraps of food and attention.
My worry is for nothing, because Reid never shows up to work. I bump into his older brother James on my search, and he tells me there’s something going on at the ranch and not to count on seeing Reid. Despite my hurt feelings, I send him a text asking if he’s okay and if he needs anything.
I don’t hear from Reid. His message is loud and clear.
Whatever I thought was growing between us was completely in my imagination. Of course, Reid would never want anything to do with me.
Friday morning, I self-sabotage and spend way too much time in front of the mirror perfecting my war paint.
I’d been feeling more and more like myself without it as every day passed.
I was a fool to think it mattered. Letting down my walls only allowed false hope to infiltrate and destroy my defenses.
It’s time I refortify my barriers, because if I allow myself to get lost in Reid, I surely won’t survive the fallout.