Chapter 25
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
I was on edge. Despite being sure in my conviction that there was nothing Mark could reveal to me to change how I felt about him, I was anxious.
It had been about a week since his grandfather’s funeral and my brief introduction to his parents.
A lot of his mannerisms that I would have questioned before, I now understood.
Having the short encounter had made me realize how much “normal” he had missed out on, and I was determined that our own normal would ground him in a way he had never experienced before.
My ribs were better and my stitches had healed nicely but I was still too scared to drive. Logically I hadn’t done anything to cause the accident but the fear in getting behind the wheel of a car was too much to overcome. I had to do something about it but I kept putting it off again and again.
My phone rang and I answered it with a smile when I saw the caller ID. It was Mark.
“Hi,” I breathed, excited.
“You home?” he asked.
“Yeah, why?” I answered. I wondered if I would ever get to a stage when his voice wouldn’t set my heart thumping in my chest.
“I’ll be there in ten minutes. Meet me downstairs.”
I agreed and ended the call. What did he have planned? I felt excited that maybe he would be taking me out or something like that. I got my purse and put some lipstick on before wandering downstairs to wait for him.
It was early evening and the streetlights were the only source of light. I checked my watch and then a car pulled up in front of me. It was Mark’s. He got out and greeted me with a kiss to the cheek, which sent my heart racing.
“So, what’s up?” I asked when we didn’t immediately get into his car.
“We’re going out to dinner,” he said. He was dressed smartly in a crisp white shirt, open by the collar. He looked so handsome.
“Okay,” I said, stepping to open the passenger door, but he stopped me.
“No, you’re driving.”
I looked at the car but I couldn’t bring myself to move closer. No. Just no.
I shook my head. “I’m not ready.” The suffocating fear clawed up my throat, making it more difficult to breathe. All I could hear were the sounds of the tires skidding in my memory. Spinning out of control and the pain. Then the waiting and the fear.
He took me by the arms. “The sooner you face it the better. The longer you leave it, the worse it’ll be to overcome.”
I pulled out of his grip. “You can’t force me into this.”
“You’re right, I can’t make you do anything you don’t want to do.” He stepped closer. “Are you just never going to drive again? What happens when you need to go somewhere? You’re going to be dependent on someone else? ”
I frowned as I crossed my arms. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“So, you’re going to be a full-grown adult who is too scared to drive?”
“Why are you being so mean?” I asked, feeling hurt.
“I’m trying to help you and sometimes it requires tough love.”
Love? That’s all I heard. Love.
He took my hands in his and I let him. He was coming from a good place but I was still mad he had jumped this on me with no prior warning, although I wasn’t sure if a warning would have helped.
“Try it.” His green eyes held mine. I wanted to stay angry at him but it was difficult when he was looking at me like that.
I continued to shake my head. “You’re not listening. I’m not ready.” My voice rose and came out in a kind of high-pitched whine I was not proud of.
“Tracy,” he said firmly, and I tried my best to shut out everything except the calm of his voice.
“Do you trust me?” he asked. I held his eyes, trying to calm my rapid heartbeat that had nothing to do with him but was due to the fear of driving again.
“I do,” I replied in a heavy voice, knowing what this would mean.
I looked at the car before looking back at him.
“I won’t let anything bad happen, I’ll be with you the whole way. Okay?” His eyes searched mine and I found myself nodding even though I wanted to do anything but get into his car.
“First let’s go around the parking lot until you’re comfortable,” he suggested when he walked me around to the driver’s side and helped me in.
I took a couple of deep breaths, trying to get my panic under control, otherwise I would end up causing another accident.
I gripped the steering wheel as he rounded the car and got in the other side.
I adjusted the rearview mirror and my seat, trying to shut out the echo of the memories of my car crash.
“You good?” he asked.
I let out a heavy breath. “No, but let’s do this anyway.” I started the car and it purred to life. The panic rose up in me but I breathed through it.
“You got this,” Mark encouraged. I shot him a glare. I didn’t feel like I had anything except a full-blown panic attack just a breath away.
Baby steps, I told myself, easing the car forward.
Driving at night made me nervous but combined with the memories of my accident, I was petrified and I slammed on the brakes when I saw the lights of another car pass us.
“It’s okay,” Mark soothed beside me, but I couldn’t continue. I had flashbacks with sirens and metal scrapping against metal. I had been so traumatized I had refused to buy another car when my insurance had paid out.
“I can’t,” I admitted, refusing to budge.
“You can do this, you know you can,” he encouraged, and I really disliked him in that moment for pushing me.
But something in me didn’t want to disappoint him, so I tried again. This time I kept my speed low and went around in circles in the parking lot before I built up the courage to venture onto the open road.
Even though the rest of the journey to the restaurant was uneventful, my legs were shaking by the time we arrived, and I was still angry Mark had pushed me into it.
“See? That wasn’t so bad.” He took my hand, but I turned to face him.
“That was the most…underhanded thing.” I was mad even though I had done it.
“But you did it. Look what you accomplished.”
I continued to glare at him, not sure I was ever going to forgive him.
“I feel like a mess,” I admitted, showing him how badly my hands were still shaking.
He took them into his, his touch easing the adrenaline in me. “You did good.”
I refused to stop glaring at him.
“Let’s go get something to eat,” he suggested, giving me a smile that made me weak.
“Only on the condition you’re driving home,” I insisted, knowing I’d had enough of driving for the night.
I know I would have to keep at it but I had done enough today. Tomorrow was another day.
He nodded. “Sure.” He put his arm around me and walked me into the restaurant.
“I have another surprise for you when we get back to your apartment,” he murmured as the waiter led us to a table.
“I don’t think I like your surprises anymore.” If the first one was anything to go by.
“You’ll like this one, I promise.” He pulled out my chair and I sat down, arching an eyebrow at him.
“Unless it’s you naked in my bed, then I don’t want it,” I whispered in a hushed tone, very aware we were in a crowded restaurant.
“I’ve turned you into a sex-craved kitten, haven’t I?” He sat down, leaning closer to take my hands. When he touched me, it was electric.
“Uh huh.” I had never been that into sex but with him I couldn’t seem to get enough. He was my addiction. “If you weren’t so good at it I wouldn’t be in the predicament I’m in.” I ached just thinking about it.
His dark eyes held mine. “I like that you need me.”
That made me feel all warm and fuzzy, because I did—in ways that made me blush.
When he drove back to the apartment, I was thinking of all the naughty things I wanted to do to him. He was quiet as he drove, and I would look at him through the corner of my eye every now and then. There was something fundamentally different. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.
Something had changed from the day I had told him I loved him. Did knowing how I felt about him put more pressure on him emotionally?
It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but I wanted the knowledge to make him happy, not stress him out. Maybe this was his way of dealing with it. How could I expect him to behave normally when he had two parents who were incapable of loving him?
It brought my thoughts back to what he had said when he had believed I had been asleep. He was scared something was going to scare me off, but I still had no idea what.
I was deep in thought when we arrived back at my place.
He parked the car and helped me out, but instead of leading me back to my apartment, he pulled my hand a few parking spaces down. Then I noticed a new car with a bright red ribbon on the hood.
We stopped and he turned to me. “It’s yours.” I was stunned, my mouth falling open as he handed me the car keys. I didn’t know what make it was, but it was expensive.
I should have been happy but I wasn’t.
“I…” I didn’t know what to say. My mouth opened and closed as he watched me.
“I know you didn’t replace your car and I wanted to do something to help,” he explained. He was excited and smiling, while I was more horrified than anything else. “Helping you get back behind the wheel was the first part, and this” —he turned to face me— “is the second part.”
My hand gripped the keys so hard I thought it might break the skin. I wanted to say thank you and be touched by his thoughtfulness, but this wasn’t what I wanted from him. Money and things weren’t important to me. I understood his reason for doing this, but I couldn’t accept it.
“You don’t like it?” he asked when I didn’t look as excited as he had expected.
“It’s not that I don’t like it. It’s too much,” I said, trying to find a balance in letting him down.
His smile fell and I reached to touch his arm.
“This is so thoughtful.”
He shrugged. “It’s what we do in my family. When we care, we buy things.”
Then I realized what this was and it made me feel worse for my reaction. He had probably grown up in an environment when material things had meant more than affection.
“You bought this for me because you care,” I murmured.
He nodded solemnly.