Her laugh was sharp, humorless. “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t see how different you are? That’s the problem.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” My fists clenched. I was a problem now?
“It means you’re… good. Solid. And that scares the hell out of me, because what if I start needing you? What if you get hurt because of me?”
“I want you to need me.” Her words landed like stones in my gut. “I can take care of myself.”
“Fine. What if you won’t stay?” she snapped. “We haven’t talked about that.”
The air between us pulsed with heat and distance all at once. Her arms were wrapped tight around herself, but her chin was lifted like she was daring me to argue.
“I’m not going anywhere, sugar.” The nickname slipped out. “No matter how hard you try to push me away.”
Lila blew out a breath. “I’m not pushing you away.”
“Then what are you trying to do? Help me understand.”
Her mouth opened, then shut again. Her shoulders slumped. “I’m trying to breathe.”
I ran a hand through my hair, pacing a step away before I did something reckless. “You can’t shut me out. I won’t let you.”
“And you can’t break down my walls every time you don’t like how I’m dealing with things.”
I wanted to reach for her, but her body language shouted not to, so I didn’t. I just stood there, every muscle tense, knowing one wrong word could make things worse. The worst part was not knowing if I was doing the right thing. When I was working on a project or a building, Iknew what I was doing. Here, I had no clue at all. This was my first time walking this path. Maybe I was doing it all wrong. Women were so fucking complicated.
Finally, she spoke again, voice quiet. “I just need some time. To think. To sort through all of this before I completely fall apart. I need some space.”
“Then I’ll give you a little.” The words came out rough. “But, sugar. You’re not getting very much. We belong together. You hear me?”
Her lips quivered, but she didn’t move forward to touch me or kiss me. And that scared me more than anything she could’ve said.
She moved past me toward the door, afternoon light on her lashes as she looked out at the street. “I need to finish a few things at the shop tonight.”
“Will you drive at least? I’ll pick you up later, and you can leave your car in the bowling alley lot.”
She gave me a mournful look. “I’m going to stay here tonight, but I’ll drive.”
My mouth snapped shut. Space? Time? I didn’t want either. My fists clenched. Was this what a relationship was? She threw on a jacket, hurried off, and then the sound of her car door slamming echoed down the driveway, sharp as a gunshot.
I stood there alone for just a minute in the half-gutted kitchen, staring at the place she’d just been, feeling like I’d built the whole damn house wrong from the foundation up. Damn it. What had just happened? Things had been going along just fine, and now she was slipping away from me. Leaving. That’s what people did, right? They left.
Inside, the silence closed around me again—thick, hollow, and heavy with the knowledge that whatever line we’d crossed together, she was already stepping back over it.
Her voice was still in my head.
I can’t keep leaning on you.
It was like letting someone stand next to her was shameful, a sign of weakness. Maybe it was me. I wasn’t good enough to lean on.
I looked around at the half-gutted kitchen, sawdust scattered over the floor where I’d been tearing out the last of the cabinets. Everything I’d been building suddenly felt pointless. I was tempted to leave it, but I wouldn’t do that. It had been instilled in me to finish what I’d started. This job had been about her getting her home back, piece by piece, but now it felt hollow.
I’d seen her scared before, but this was different. This was something bone-deep. Whatever Derek had said to her had gotten inside her skin and set up camp there. I’d like to find him and beat the ever-loving shit out of him.
The floorboards creaked under my boots as I moved to the window. Her little yellow car flashed down the road and disappeared. She was gone. And with every second she stayed gone, the knot in my chest pulled tighter.
Kipp always said I was a builder because I liked control. There were few things I liked more than knowing how something fit together, how to fix it when it broke. But this wasn’t something I could fix with two-by-fours and nails. This was a woman whose very foundation had been ripped out years ago. She’d managed to find a newone that her Grams had built up for her, but now it was on shaky ground. I understood all of that, but I wasn’t sure how I fit anymore. Or if she wanted me to try.
I wasn’t sure if she’d ever let anyone reinforce the damn thing again.
