Chapter 8 #2
“Fine. Not poisoned.” I blew out a heavy sigh, trying in vain to ignore the storm raging behind me…
not to mention the storm that always seemed to rage between the two of us.
I picked up my fork and twirled some pasta onto it, inhaling deeply at how good it smelled.
I took a bite and forced myself not to moan at how delicious it was. Jesus, the asshole could cook, too?
After several long moments of silence between us, making the turbulent storm all that much louder and more distracting, I finally said, “So…how do you build a boat?”
Levi snorted, a sound that was so out of place for him, I did a double take.
He shook his head as he stared down at his plate, any hint of amusement wiped clear from his face.
Meeting my eyes again, he said, “You don’t have to fake interest because you’re keeping a scorecard. Just eat the fucking food, Harper.”
“Maybe I want to have a conversation.”
“You and I both know that’s not true.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, annoyed by the fact that he still knew me so well. “Fine. Maybe you’re right. But this still needs to be a fair exchange.”
“Why’s that?”
“I don’t like owing you something. This needs to be tit for tat.”
“And you think me talking about myself is what I want out of this interaction?”
Before I could answer, a crack of thunder boomed as lightning flashed through the sky. I jumped, my fork clattering to my plate, though I’d thankfully swallowed back the scream lodged in my throat.
I picked up my utensil again, hoping like hell Levi hadn’t noticed the tremors in my hand as I brought a bite to my mouth. Though, of course, that was wishful thinking. His eyes were like laser beams, focused on any weakness of mine he could find.
But instead of saying anything about it…instead of making fun of me or calling me out, he just sighed, a heavy, frustrated sound. Then, much to my shock, he started talking about boats. How he designed them, how he restored them, how he built them from scratch.
And somehow, through it all, he held my attention.
The storm faded into the background as Levi spoke, his low, rumbling voice settling over me as his passion for his job bled into every word.
While he explained his craft, I saw a tiny glimpse of the boy I’d loved all those years ago.
The one who’d been rough around the edges but so sweet to me. So kind and giving.
At another loud crack, I jumped again, but this time, I noticed I wasn’t the only one reacting to the storm.
It was apparent in the tightening of Levi’s muscles.
The bunch of his shoulders. The rigidness of his jaw.
And I felt like an idiot. An inconsiderate idiot at that.
Because of course he’d hate storms. After everything he’d gone through…
“Why didn’t you tell me you’re scared of storms, too?”
“I’m not,” he said immediately. Then, when I just stared at him in response, he blew out a long breath and leaned back against the counter at the opposite side of the kitchen, crossing his arms over his chest. His biceps bunched and flexed, the inked designs drawing my eye, making me long to discover them all. “I just don’t particularly like them.”
“For good reason.” I cleared my throat, having no idea how to broach this but needing to, so I just went for it. “I wanted to tell you how sorry I am. About your mom.”
A flurry of emotions passed over his face—anger and sadness and grief…
so much grief, followed by…guilt?—before he wiped his expression clear and lifted his chin in acknowledgment.
I thought he might open up about it. Talk about her a bit since I’d known her, too.
But instead, he said, “Sounds like you owe me a story.”
I blinked at him, unable to follow his abrupt change in topic. “About?”
“You never did tell me why you’re scared of storms. And since you know my why, it’s only fair. Tit for tat, right?”
Right. It was clear Levi’s mom was off-limits, at least to me. And that was fine. It was understandable. And certainly shouldn’t sting like it did.
I took a sip of wine and cleared my throat, averting my gaze. “When I was little, I got lost outside during a severe thunderstorm while my parents were throwing a party. It took them a while to realize I was missing.”
Levi’s jaw ticked, and I could almost make myself believe it was concern for me. In actuality, it was probably frustration over being stuck in this conversation for this much time. “How long?”
I shrugged, taking another drink to buy myself time. The truth was, eternity wouldn’t have been long enough. “A while.”
“How long, sparrow?”
His old nickname for me slammed into my chest, throwing me off-balance and leaving me grappling for purchase.
I hadn’t heard that in more than a decade, and I’d had no idea how much I would miss it once it was gone.
I’d hated it when he’d first given it to me, a reminder that our time together was always fleeting because we’d only had the summers.
That, in the end, I always had to leave, fly away for another year.
I stared at him, a thousand questions running through my mind, but he gazed back, not-so-patiently waiting for my response. As if he hadn’t even noticed the word had slipped from his lips.
That was probably better for everyone anyway. Nothing good would come from going down memory lane with the man who’d broken my heart beyond repair.
I cleared my throat. “A few hours.”
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered.
“Everything turned out fine.” If you didn’t count the hours I’d spent screaming myself hoarse or the years of therapy I’d worked through as an adult or this neat little lifelong phobia.
He stared at me for a long moment, his eyes pinning me in place, searching in a way that felt like he could see straight into my soul. I wasn’t so sure he couldn’t.
Finally, he said, “I wouldn’t expect anything less for the perfect Davidsons.”
“Right.” I huffed out a laugh and nodded.
My family was the furthest thing from perfect, though my parents had definitely pushed that narrative to anyone who’d listen.
And though I’d walked the line they had guided me to, I’d veered off it with Levi.
With him, I’d let my guard down as much as I could.
Shown him parts of me I’d never shown anyone. And still, he hadn’t seen.
After this long of being on my own, I should’ve been used to this feeling of loneliness, but it still packed a punch. More so with this man who’d had the power to wreck me once. I certainly wasn’t going to give him the opportunity to do it again.
“Thanks for dinner.” I pushed away my nearly empty plate as I drained my wineglass. I set it on the counter harder than I intended, but everything was bubbling up inside me, and I had no hope of containing it. “But don’t think this changes anything between us.”
He was silent long enough that I finally glanced up at him, only to find his attention already on me. Those ice-blue eyes probing in a way that made me shift in my seat. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”