“Is it because of your job?”
He smiled, something they did often around each other. “Yeah. It’s from all the things. I worked on cars a lot growing up. I like to have fun with my truck. Then there’s the never-ending yard work. And the horses.”
“What about the Navy? Tell me about your job in the Navy.”
He smiled. “I’d rather not at the moment, if that’s okay.”
She looked back down at her work and started to massage the muscles in between his fingers and wrists. There was pain and ache there he never knew he had. She whispered, “You’re okay. I won’t pry. But you did something so nice for me, so I at least wanted to do this for you. And if you ever need to talk, you can reach out to me.”
“I appreciate it, but you don’t know what you’re getting into. I told you, I’m fine. I’ve learned to live with it.”
Evie looked at him and protested innocently, “I don’t believe it needs to be that way though. I mean, even when we get cut deeply, the scarsstillremain, but doesn’t the pain eventually go away? So, when we go through trauma or hurt, we can have scars, but can’t the pain be healed?”
He hated to give her a reality check, but it had to be done. “Notalways. Physical scars can cause nerve damage and adhesions, and in that case the pain will never go away.”
She looked down and then turned his left hand over to massage his palm with both of her thumbs. The ache shot up into his forearm at first until she nurtured it away. He adored her innocence of how cruel life could really be. Well, lifehadbeen unfair and cruel to her in different ways.
Wait a minute. It dawned on him. He had looked over her entire Facebook profile, and lifehadbeen rough for her. Homelessness, loss of parents, sexual abuse, familial neglect, mania, body dysmorphia. But there Evie was. So what if she had an anxiety attack? She was still calm, loving, happy, and peaceful. Or so she seemed in his eyes. How the hell did she manage to do it without whiskey and other…things?
He didn’t know her until about three or four months ago. She was a lot worse before that.
She finished and sat next to him then. “I guess you’re right. I never thought of it that way. But maybe on an emotional or psychological level, we can heal. I think we can.” A soft chuckle trickled out of her lips, and she looked down at her fingers. “I know we can.”
He looked at her. God, he wanted to dominate her completely. What a dumb thing to think at a time like that, but he couldn’t help it.
She smiled again. “If there’s anything I can do to thank you for what you did for me tonight, let me know.”
A better idea came into his mind. “How about I stay the night, and you can make some of that fabulous French toast you’re always posting pictures up online of?”
At once they both laughed, and she nodded in a wide grin. “Yeah, I do post a lot about that, don’t I?”
He leaned over and nudged her in a little flirt. “Yeah, you kinda do. And it’s unfair I haven’t had it yet.”
She lifted her chin with a proud smirk. “Then I would be honored to make it for you in the morning.”
She led him to her room, and she was incredibly thankful that she had kept it cleaner those days. “I’m sorry about the stuff that’s still kind of everywhere.” She moved a few boxes to the side. “I need to have some shelves put up or get a bookshelf to get these things out of the boxes.”
He grinned with his hands in his pockets. “You’re fine. I’ve been there before. I have kids and understand messes and piles.”
They both stared at the bed. It was only a full-sized bed. “If you’re uncomfortable, um,” she stammered, “I have another room.”
He looked about. “I think I’ll stay in here with you.”
She smiled and held her mouth, for the look he gave her indicated heknewshe wanted him to sleep by her.
“After all,” he added, “sleeping alone sucks after you’ve had a panic attack.”
She crossed her arms filled with giddiness and nervousness. Caleb looked out the window and approached it, leaning over the bed to do so. The bed was tucked into the corner to allow more room. Then Evie’s eyes widened in embarrassment. All her stuffed animals were on the bed still! What would he think of a forty-year-old woman having stuffed animals?
While he looked out at the tree line, Evie stealthily grabbed the animals and chucked them into the closet.
“Stephen Kingandstuffed animals?” he asked with a grin. “You’re a woman of many hobbies, Miss Morgan.”
She turned to face him, rubbed her hips and took in a breath. “I’ll be in the bathroom changing and-”
He pulled away and approached her. Her heart started to pound again. Luckily this time it wasn’t because of panic. In the amber light of that room, in the still of the night, his eyes met hers.
It made her heart beg for a kiss; her body beg to be held. Her lower lip visibly trembled. She could not compose herself at all around him!
