Being that close to someone who accepted her…it was too scary.
A fresh wave of tears came until she could hardly see the needle and thread through them. She’d never been accepted just for being herself before, at least not since she could remember.
Perhaps her mother had loved her unconditionally, but since she’d passed away when Abigail was no more than a toddler, she didn’t remember.
The kitchen door opened and Abigail sniffled, attempting to wipe the tears away before Roan could see them. But then he was there, dropping to his knees in front of the stool she sat on, concern etched across his face.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, taking the dress and the needle and thread from her, setting them down on the floor, and taking her hands in his.
Abigail couldn’t get words to come out, so she just shook her head.
“Hey, tell me what’s wrong,” he said, his thumb gently rubbing circles on her hand.
“This whole time, I thought you were just a grumpy miser, and you’re actually wonderful,” she choked out through her sobs, and then, realizing what she had said, she began to sob harder. “And now I’m insulting you.”
Roan laughed and rose up on his knees to wrap his arms around her and let her cry on his shoulder.
“Oh, darling,” he said, rubbing circles on her back. “You didn’t insult me. You’re right. I am a grumpy old miser. You heard me yell at Beastie earlier, and you were right, she didn’t deserve it.”
Abigail sniffled and nodded. “She didn’t.”
“But that’s who I am, or who I have been. Until you came along, I shut everyone out and only focused on how the tavern wasn’t doing well, instead of focusing on the things that were going well and how wonderful my life actually is. You’re not wrong, and I’m sorry that it took this experience for me to realize that I should be doing thingsdifferently, but I’m not sorry that this experience brought the two of us closer together.”
“Me neither,” she managed to choke out as she started hiccupping. “Of course, I have the hiccups, too,” she said miserably. “That makes—”hiccup“everything—”hiccup“better.”
Roan laughed and pulled back enough to wipe the tears away from her eyes with the pad of his thumb.
She hiccupped again.
“You don’t need to cry,” he said, “but if it makes you feel better, then cry all you want.”
At his words, the sobs began anew.
Her father had always told her to stop crying. Roan didn’t seem to mind, though.
Hiccup.
Roan laughed and pulled her close once again. Slowly, Abigail felt her sobs subsiding as Roan’s steady presence filled her senses with peace.
The hiccups took longer.
Eventually, she lifted her head from his shoulder, a quiet giggle spilling out at the sight of the wet spot on his shirt. “I’m sorry,” she said, fanning air at it.
“Don’t worry, I have plenty of shirts to wear at the moment,”he said dryly.
Abigail’s lips turned up in a quiet smirk. “I did wash your other shirt yesterday,” she pointed out.
“Do you want me to take this one off so you can wash it, too?” he asked.
“That’s not necessary,” she said primly, though she could feel the heat flooding her cheeks. “It will dry.”
“Are you sure?” He reached for the back of his neck and slowly began to peel the shirt over his head.
“I’m sure,” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around his neck and holding the shirt onto his shoulders.
As much as she wouldn’t mind seeing him without again…that was a temptation she should avoid. And being this close to him without a shirt on seemed like a step too far for her reputation, even if no one saw it.
She would know it had happened.
