Chapter 4 #3
I jerked away again. “I’m sorry if I got it wrong.
I didn’t mean to offend you, or freak you out.
I’m not stalking you or…I don’t know. I just get things wrong sometimes.
I don’t know what people want, and I…I make mistakes.
I don’t even have a car. I tried to find a blue one, but the car place I went to didn’t have any blue ones I could afford.
I didn’t mean to lie, I just, I wanted to get you to talk, to make you feel better, and I thought…
I thought you wanted a pie, and then I saw you this morning and you seemed upset with me, and I thought it was because I hadn’t made you one yet, but I didn’t know what you’d like, so I made four, and then the bus was late because they’ve cut down the service, and I had to stand for a really long time, and the carrier was heavy and a man on the bus made oinking sounds at me, and I…
I…” I trailed off, because my eyes were stinging again and I was feeling overwhelmed and stupid and embarrassed and I wanted to go home.
I’d just dumped all the emotion that was overwhelming me on him.
We don’t do that. I was raised to never do that.
Fender closed the space between us, carefully put the pie carrier down, and pulled me into his arms. They carefully slid around me, then he was holding me tight.
“Baby, I want the pies. I just meant you didn’t need to go to any trouble.
I’m not mad at you. I don’t think you’re stalking me.
You get things wrong? So do I. So we’re going to have to make things clear when we talk, yeah?
But just so you know, I’ll never be unhappy if you show up here with pies. ”
I stood in his arms, shocked. He wasn’t angry or even annoyed, not at all.
And no one had ever called me baby—babe, yes, but never baby—and I’d certainly never been hugged like this in my life.
His body was huge and heat radiated from him.
It was nice. Really nice. And even more stunningly, I wasn’t afraid.
Zero fear. I was in a male’s arms, and I wasn’t afraid.
Slowly, experimentally, I lifted my arms as well and slid them around Fender’s thick waist, hugging him back.
“Temp, you good?”
“Yes,” I said.
“I’d also be just as happy if you showed up here without pies,” he said roughly.
“Okay,” I said, because I didn’t know what to say to that.
He lifted his head, and I looked up at him. “I’d really like it if you stayed a while. It’s movie night. You wanna watch it with me?”
He was being kind. Fender was a kind male. I’d gotten things wrong before and assumed people liked me. This felt real, but what did I know? Mags had told me about movie night here as well, and I realized I really wanted to stay, but what if he was just being kind? “The bus…I should probably go—”
“I can take you home later, if you do want to stay and hang out?”
I chewed my lip. “Do you want me to stay?”
Fender’s gaze was soft yet intense as he looked down at me. “Yeah, Temp, I do.”
His hands were still loosely around me. It really did feel nice. He said we needed to be clear with each other, and I couldn’t bear any more confusion or having to try to guess. “So we’re friends? You want to be friends with me?”
His lips curled up. “Yeah, babe, I wanna be friends.”
My belly warmed and happiness filled me. “Okay, then, yes, I’d like to stay for movie night.”
His smile widened. “Excellent.” He picked up the pie carrier. “But let’s go put these pies in my room first.”
“We could share them—”
“Nope. These are mine. Not sharing the pies you made me with anyone.”
I blinked over at him as we walked. “You’re going to eat all of them?”
“I’m a big male.”
Yes, he was. A very big male.
Brick was heading our way. He winked. “Can’t wait for my pie, Temp.”
“She’s not making you a pie,” Fender said without stopping.
“Oh, I said I would. Actually, do you have a piece of paper and a pen. Your brothers all made requests when I arrived and I—”
“Nah, Temp. You’re not making them anything. You only make pies for me.”
I glanced over at him. “You don’t want me to make pies for your brothers?”
“No.”
“But I said I would.”
“And I’ll make sure they know it’s not happening,” he said, and his voice had gone deeper.
“But—”
“No one’s gonna be pissed at you. I’ll sort it.”
Relief filled me. “Thank you.”
He was frowning again. “You can just say no,” he said. “Anything you don’t want to do. You just have to say no.”
“Right, I just thought I should—”
“You say no, Tempest. Anything, anything at all you don’t want to do, you fucking say no, understand?”
Somehow, he’d said that with intensity, but there was no heat to it, not even with the cursing.
I nodded, something swirling inside me. Of course, I could say no, but I’d always struggled with it.
As a kid in the house I was raised in for the first eleven years of my life, no had meant nothing.
You didn’t get to say no. You did what you were told or you paid for it.
Matilda W had understood me, cared for me, saved me.
She’d never given me a reason to want to say no.
I hadn’t realized it until this moment that this was an issue for me. “I will,” I said.
His gaze studied me. “Good.” Then he reached out his free hand and took mine, leading me to his room.