Chapter Eleven
Matilda had herpack of dogs with her, and her huffy cats, and that was a good thing because the house felt lonely.
Rosie had moved out ages ago.The rescue animals weren’t out back.
Tennessee wasn’t here.
She had nothing but her thoughts, and that was pretty much the last place she wanted to muck about in tonight.Especially since her heart didn’t seem to want to calm down.Or even beat properly.
If it was possible to make yourself sick by being vulnerable, she was pretty sure she had the influenza version of that.Her whole body ached.
When headlights tracked across the front window, indicating that someone was pulling into her driveway, that did not exactly help the situation.Or her broken-heart-based flu symptoms.
In the space between the slam of the truck door outside that got all her dogs barking and the time it took him to walk to her front door, Matilda felt as if she’d spun out somewhere.As if she was suddenly having some kind of out-of-body experience.
Or maybe she’d died and was looking down on this scene from the afterlife.
Because, deep down, she hadn’t thought he would come after her.
She’d been sure he wouldn’t, in fact.
Tennessee knocked the way he always did—two short raps against the wood.And even though she felt thrown, or frozen, or possibly also deceased, she stood up anyway.Like she was a puppet on a string.
And the funny thing about that was, if a string meant they stayed connected?Matilda would consider it.That was how gone she was about this man.
She waded through excited, furry bodies to open the door for him.And she was deeply grateful for those warm, furry bodies, then, because they jumped up to greet him.They wagged their tails furiously.Montgomery brought his favorite toy.Fran slobbered.
They all barked their greetings, demanding his attention, and they got to do that, for a minute.Until he was actually inside and she let out a sharp whistle, then ordered the dogs into the kitchen.
Then she closed the door behind her, locking the dogs away, and it was just the two of them.
Matilda cleared her throat.“Tennessee—”
“First of all—”
They both spoke at the same time.They both stopped at the same time, too.
He frowned at her, but it was a quizzical sort of frown.Not a stern one, or an unfriendly one.She took that as a good thing.
Though she would take anything as a good thing right now.She knew that.But it made the flu-ish feeling fade, so there was that.
She nodded at him to go on.
“First of all,” he said again, sounding verydeliberate, “why did you tell me that you loved me and then take off running?Literallyrunningand then driving away in a cloud of dust.Or what would have been dust if it hadn’t snowed two days ago.”
Matilda flushed, and waited, kind of hoping that this was a rant and he would keep going.
But he didn’t.He just… waited.
While she’d been securing dogs in the kitchen, he’d come farther into the house.He’d taken off his coat and now he was standing there in just one of those flannels of his, his arms crossed, and all of that intense blue attention on her.
And he did not look particularly inclined to speak again.
“Well,” Matilda said.She cleared her throat again.“I guess… Well, Tennessee, if you want the truth—”
“I do want the truth.I insist upon it.”
She didn’t like howdarkhe sounded then.Or maybe she meantintense.Either way, it seemed to skitter all over her skin like a shiver that couldn’t quite render itself into being.
