He looked guilty. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Cal.” Anger flared. “You and Charlie don’t get to decide what I should or shouldn’t do.”
“I know, but the fight, your arm… it’s all a bit much. What if you got seriously hurt? He could’ve done real damage, and what if I’m not there next time? You could find somewhere else that’s safer.”
“I appreciate your concern, but I love working at Charlie’s.” It had been a second home with people who cared in their own way. I loved Gregg and Big Ben and Cindy. The smell of beer than never quite went away. The lingering humidity in there. The sound of a game always being on the TV. It was beautiful.
“But—” Cal started.
“Enough.” I held up my hand in a stop sign. “I understand you’re worried, but this is my decision, not yours. Donottry to get me fired.”
“Fired? No, just not working weekend nights.” He gripped the back of his neck. “I don’t mean to upset you, please. I just don’t want anything to happen to you.” His deep voice went even lower. “Elle, I’m sorry.”
Some of the anger left at the despair on his face. He looked really upset, more than his usual frowning. His cheeks were red and his jaw tight.
“I overstepped.”
“You did.” I crossed my arms, staring up at him.
He swallowed and looked helpless. I refused to help him out though. He had to talk his own way out of this. He sighed and hung his head before meeting my gaze again. His feet moved side to side, and he gently lifted my forearm with the bruise. He trailed one finger over it, his breath coming out harder. “Seeing this all day really upset me. I wanted to fix it, and the only thing I could come up with was you not working there.”
“It’s just a bruise.”
His eyes flashed. “It was just a hailstorm.”
“What?”
“My parents died from a rainstorm. A simple, Midwestern rainstorm with hail. There wasn’t any damage to houses or crops, yet their car swerved, flipped, and they died.Justa bruise is still a lot.” His eyes went wide, and he dropped my arm.
Oh my heart. I put a hand on my chest, sucking in a breath. “Cal.”
“I should take a walk. Yeah, I need a minute.” He squeezed his eyes shut and spun the other way. His shoulders were about up to his ears as he walked away, leaving me in a pile of feelings.
I was still rattled from the night before, upset about his chat with Charlie, and overwhelmed by his admission. We’d never talked about how his parents died. I’d never asked because it wasn’t something you pulled out of someone. They shared it on their own. But like this? In the heat of an argument?
I rubbed my chest as a pang radiated up my neck. It explained his reaction so much though. How angry he’d gotten this morning when he saw it, how he’d hung around me all day, protecting me. My anger dissipated at him trying to get me to quit—sure, we needed to talk it out, but I understood his motivations. He struggled with emotions, and he had so many today. Fuck, I fought with my own, and I could generally handle them.
I thought about going after him but decided against it. I’d wait for him to come back. Yeah, I could make him some dinner and bring it up to him. Until then, my fingers twitched with the need to write my heart out. Writing was my escape, my therapy, and I dashed upstairs.
Cooking and writing would keep me at peace until Cal and I could talk.
I tried ignoring the telltale signs my male main character’s traits were starting to morph into someone I knew in real life. Jackson struggled with emotions after losing his wife years ago. He used work as a way to escape and acted out when things got serious. The emotionally damaged hero didn’t expect to run into his high school sweetheart with a daughter. The features on Jackson shaped into Cal’s—big broad shoulders, soulful eyes, a deep voice meant for radio, and a jawline delicious enough to distract a nun. Amanda, the female lead, knew he’d be tough to crack but worth the wait.
Shit. Was I Amanda? Was I delusional enough to project me and Cal into my writing? I shut my laptop and pushed it away. Yes, I had feelings for him. I wasn’t sure they were love, and I knew better than to think he reciprocated all of them. He feltsomethingfor me. The guy’s love language was gestures, and he’d done so many things for me that I’d lost count.
But love? Romance?
He said over and over he didn’t do that, that he was a three-nights-only guy.
I doubted I, who was exceptionally average, would be the one to change that. I wanted to, hell, my heart ached for him, but I’d be a fool to think it would happen. Putting my hopes out there that I was enough or that he’d change for me would be naïve. Gabe said he’d bolt at the first snag of something going wrong, and sure enough, he’d stormed away after he mentioned his parents.
That’s not the same thing.I groaned, annoyed at my indecision. I wanted to be with Cal. I did. But…mentioning it to him and ending up like Sherry? He’d never promised more thanfriends, and I knew if I asked his face would get all tight and his gaze hard, and I wouldn’t survive him icing me out. Fuck. This was difficult.
I made a lasagna since it was my comfort food. Carbs, cheese, meat. I pulled it out of the oven right around six. My outfit wasn’t fancy, but I did spend more time on my hair than normal. I curled it and added two layers of mascara. Then lip gloss. I looked good but not too good.
Oh my god I had it bad. I had to check to see if Cal was home though. If he wasn’t, I’d leave it in front of his door. It would suck not to see him, but I’d go to the bookstore at the strip mall instead. Get lost in a book and use last night’s tips to buy a journal.
Elle: are you home?
