Chapter 19
I’M NOT MOST GUYS.
Poppy
My head’s been a mess of emotions since Lily texted me about this party tonight at Seven Stools.
I do not want to go.
I agreed to go just to end the conversation. Neither Lily nor Blair understand what I go through because I haven’t allowed myself to open up to anyone other than my therapist about how my brain works.
I love my sister. She’s been my best friend all my life, and I hate that I can’t allow myself to open up to her about who I am.
I should be unapologetic about my life. I should be able to discuss it openly without fear of judgment.
She’s my sister. So she can’t judge me for it.
Except the little voice in my head screams, please don’t do it.
It’s a terrifying feeling to be vulnerable with someone.
It feels like standing in front of them without the usual armor you wear to protect yourself.
There’s no mask. No rehearsed lines. No shield.
It’s raw and exposed. It’s not knowing if the other person will hold whatever you say gently or crush it.
Deep down, I knew Lily made a good point about other teachers going out all the time. She always makes valid points. My struggle is allowing my brain to catch up that it’s okay to allow myself to get out and enjoy myself outside of being a teacher.
Sometimes I wonder who that even is.
Oh wait, I know. The girl who organizes her spice cabinet three times a week and loses it when things don’t go as planned.
I groan out loud in my kitchen, swiping my grocery list off the counter. It’s almost nine in the morning, which is the time I always go to the General Store for my weekly trip.
But as soon as I open my front door, I see that the storm hit overnight harder than expected.
My car is covered in a thick layer of snow to the point that all you can see is the outline of it.
Not a single part of my car is visible. I’ve been so stuck in my thoughts that I didn’t even notice the weather outside the window this morning.
And it’s still coming down.
Attempting to take a calming breath, I dig through my closet and find my snow shovel tucked away in the back corner next to my brush to clean off the car.
I grab my jacket, and when I swing it around my body to put it on, the hood gets caught on the doorknob.
Emotions bubble to the surface because when you’re already on the verge of freaking out that something isn’t going to plan, one minor inconvenience is enough to tip you right over the edge.
Normal people would have closed the front door, put on a comfortable pair of sweatpants, and settled into the couch with a good book and called it a day. A sign from the universe saying, yeah, you’re not going to the store today.
Not me.
I need to do this.
I step outside, and the cold sends a shiver down my body, but I fight it off. Making my way to my covered car to start brushing the snow away. “Should have put your car in the garage, Poppy,” I mutter.
The snow is heavy and thick. I don’t think my car is going to make it down the road, even if I do get it cleaned off.
I need to do this.
“What are you doing?” I hear a voice call from across the lawn.
No. No. No. I suck in a sharp breath, staying focused on cleaning off my car and pretending I didn’t just hear Dallas shout from his front porch. That last thing I need is for him to see me as such a frantic mess.
Because that’s what I am right now.
My body is moving with a need to make this happen.
It’s trembling with the thought that I won’t make it to the store today, and I’ll have to do it tomorrow. I feel crazy, but I know I’m not.
I hear footsteps crunching in the snow behind me, only making me more frustrated.
I don’t want him to know.
Why won’t the snow stop so I can get this cleaned off?
“What are you doing?” he repeats, this time right behind me.
Looking down at the ground in defeat, I close my eyes, fighting back the tears threatening to break free.
Finally, I spin around to face him.
He’s bundled in a puffy winter jacket and a beanie on his head. God, does this man ever not look good? In the snow, his chocolate brown eyes reveal hints of amber, like fire buried beneath the surface. His eyes don’t just watch me curiously; they linger as if they know more than I’m ready to say.
“I’m cleaning off my car to head to the General Store,” I finally say.
“I don’t think your car is going to make it, Poppy. Let me take you. It’s coming down pretty hard still, but I have four-wheel drive.”
He doesn’t ask me why I need to go.
He doesn’t make me feel stupid for needing to go right now.
He’s simply offering me an alternative.
If I didn’t want to cry a few seconds ago, I do now.
“I don’t want you taking Sage out in this.”
“She’s with her mom for the weekend. I drove through this on the way back earlier this morning, and it’s not that bad on the main roads.”
“Not so bad?” I scoff, looking around with my arms out. “It’s everywhere. It’s up to my ankles.”
He smiles, and dammit, it makes me weak. “The roads aren’t as bad as the driveway. It seems that Bluestone Lakes works hard to keep everything running smoothly here. Which is a good thing.”
I look from him to our street, and I do see that it’s not as deep with snow as my driveway. He’s so casual about all of this. What I would give to be as carefree and able to adapt to change so easily.
“I really can take you, Poppy. It’s not an inconvenience to me. I want to help you.”
“I need to go now,” I breathe out, finally looking back at him. “I mean…I’d like to go now. I don’t have a lot of food left from my last trip, and I want to get stuff in case the storm gets worse.”
He nods. “First, I’m going to need you to put on a real jacket. It’s cold out here. Go inside to grab one, and I’ll bring my SUV over.”
He doesn’t wait for any response from me as he turns on his heels and walks back to his house in the snow.
I open my mouth to protest, but nothing comes out.
I’m stuck where I stand, still in shock that this man doesn’t think I’m crazy for needing to get this done in the middle of the biggest winter storm Bluestone Lakes has gotten in years.
When he skips up his front porch steps and disappears into his house, that’s when I finally head into mine and do as he asked and grab myself a thicker jacket.
But when I close the door behind me, every emotion I fought to keep stuffed down breaks free. My back rests against the door, and I slide down, bringing my knees to my chest. I cry, and I cry hard, which seems so silly. This is just a damn snowstorm. It’s only a trip to the grocery store.
I have some stuff in the pantry, right?
I can make do for another twenty-four hours, right?
I groan because it’s moments like this that are beyond embarrassing.
I feel so stupid.
I feel like I wasn’t thinking it through and only thinking about how I needed to get to the store as part of my routine. I could have—should have—let it go. I knew this storm was coming; I could have gone yesterday before it hit. I could have had more control over this situation, but I didn’t.
Now, Dallas will be back any minute to drive me through this mess to get a few things.
Reluctantly, I stand up and grab my jacket from the coat closet next to my front door. The knock at my door sounds almost as soon as I slip it on. I stand there, zipping it up, not ready to face him yet. I know my eyes are puffy and glassy now. I know he’s going to see right through me.
He’s going to ask questions that I’m not prepared to answer.
Swinging the door open, Dallas looks from the ground to me. His face contorts in confusion as if he can read every emotion written all over my face.
Damn him for being so observant.
He opens his mouth to say something, but it falls short when the soft humming sound of my heater running cuts off. I snap my head to my living room to see that my table lamp next to my couch has also turned off.
“Is that…”
“The power went out,” Dallas groans, cutting me off. “Dammit.”
My head falls back, my eyes flutter closed, and I go back to hating myself for these emotions coursing through me.
Why can’t I stop crying?
“I’m actually okay with not going anymore,” I say through nervous laughter. “I don’t know why I thought it was a good idea.”
“Do you have any firewood for the fireplace?”
“I do, but you really don’t need to do that. I can take care of it. I have a solid thirty minutes before the frost sets in.”
He laughs, and it forces a smile on my face while easing the tension inside me.
Something I didn’t know I needed from the most unexpected man to enter my life.
“Can I ask you a question, Poppy?”
The tone of his voice is unnerving. I feel my body tense, but nod in response.
“Have you ever allowed anyone to take care of you?”
That…isn’t what I’m expecting. I tilt my head in response, confused by why he’s asking me this.
“I only ask because I’m free right now. Sage is with her mom, and when I offered to take you to the General Store, I sensed the hesitation in your voice. And now I want to help you get your fire started, and you don’t seem like you want help with that either.”
“I’m not—”
“Poppy, let me do this,” he says quickly. “I want to do this.”
“You want to start a fire for me?”
He smirks. “There’s a lot I want to do, but it’s a start.”
I’ve never been the type of girl who is good at asking for or accepting help of any kind. It’s the part of me that likes control over how things are done. I wouldn’t say I’m a controlling person, because that’s not who I am. But there’s a certain way I like things done that works for me.
This is only starting a fire, though.
“The firewood is in the garage, to the right of the door,” I tell him.
Dallas smiles, ripping off his jacket and placing it neatly over the back corner of the couch before making his way to the garage.