“Food first. Then we’ll go there together and fix what needs fixing, Rosebud.”
“You don’t—”
“Yes, I do, and you’ll piss me off if you say otherwise.”
“Jake, you ran from my house the other morning, and now I’m returning the favor. Really, it’s okay. This is the way we both want things to be.”
“Just be quiet and sit down, Branna. Please.” Standing, he lifted her onto the barstool he’d just vacated, then began to fix them both breakfast. She watched him, unmoving, and Jake knew thoughts were churning ‘round and ‘round inside her head as she tried to reclaim the ground she’d lost last night, tried to shore up her defenses and sink back into her shell.
“Thank you for last night.”
“Which part?” He finished slicing the toast and dropped it into the toaster. “Because I’m pretty thankful too about now.”
She glanced down at his hands now braced on the counter across from her before looking at him again.
“I came here and you didn’t get angry or annoyed with me. You helped me and called Cubby. I want to thank you for that.”
“Did you expect me the shut the door in your face, Rosebud?” He wasn’t angry, just sad that she’d even thought he might.
“No, even with the changes in you, I knew you’d help.”
“I’d have been pretty pissed if you hadn’t come to me, if you didn’t in the future as well.”
“I can take care of myself, Jake, and have been doing so for many years.”
“I know that, Rosebud, but sometimes you need help, and I look after the people I care about.” The words felt right to Jake. He felt something for this woman, and a few days ago, he’d tried to fight it, but no more. He was sick of running from his feelings, sick of living in the cold.
“What?” The words were a whisper as she shook her head. “Y-you can’t care for me. I haven’t been back long enough.”
“There’s a time limit on caring?”
“Caring leads to other things, and neither of us wants that.” She was standing now, hands clenched.
He walked around the counter and took them in his.
“Too late.”
“I don’t want this, didn’t come here for this.” She tried to back away, but he held her still and then pulled her toward him until she was in his arms again.
“Why don’t you want me to care about you, sweetheart?”
“Because I’m not the type that people care for.”
It was so ridiculous, he laughed. Hurt, she tried to pull away from him.
“Don’t laugh at me!”
“I’m sorry. Branna, stop fighting me.” He gave her a shake. “I wasn’t laughing at you. I was laughing at that ridiculous statement.”
“I don’t want to care about you,” she said the words to his chest.
“But you do.”
“Oh, God.”
He didn’t laugh out loud, but his smile would have really pissed her off if she saw it. She was upset, but he was happy that she felt something for him, just as he did for her. It was too early to prod the emotion and define it. It was new and raw, and both of them had been in the dark for so long that it needed to be coaxed out. But for now, Jake felt warmer and lighter than he had in months.
“It’s all right,” he said the words solemnly. “We’ll take it slow, Rosebud. But, for now, let’s eat and then go and take a look at your house, okay?”
