“Whitney, you are not to blame for what Garrett Sinclair did to you.”
She looked away again. “Yes, I am. At least in part. I’ve never had much luck with relationships with men. Look at my father, and even my grandfather. They lied to us and fooled us. No wonder I trusted Garrett at his word. I simply don’t want to give any other man a chance to make a fool out of me again.”
“Is that why you refilled the bottle?” He hated to push, but he had to. Sitting here in the middle of this blizzard,watching her, he realized his care for her was strong. More than he wanted to admit.
“No. Of course not. I refilled the bottle because it’s the one thing that helps with the pain.”
“If you’re still having pain, you should have come to see me.”
“Why? So you could question me about it?” The fire was back in her eyes as she shifted her glare to him. “Whiskey doesn’t demand answers from me. It helps me to forget.” She winced and looked away.
“What? Are you in pain now?”
“No.”
“Then what made you react like that?”
She shook her head. “Nothing.”
But when he watched her face, he knew. He’d pushed her far enough for now.
Whitney closed her eyes. Shutting him out.
Their makeshift shelter shuddered in the wind, and Peter leaned back against the wall of snow. His thoughts all over the place. Whitney was at the forefront.
More than anything, she hated that her father had been a drunk. That much he knew. But she had loved Chuck deeply. Respected him. So why would she lump him in with her dad? That didn’t make sense. Or was it all about men in general? Ah, that might be it. Trust. She’d said she didn’t want to let another man make a fool out of her again. Even those she cared about.
This was more difficult than he thought it would be. He should be honest. Straightforward. “Is this about your dad’s drinking, or about all men?”
“I’mnotlike my dad.” The words were flung at him.
“I didn’t say you were.”
Her eyes had become tiny slits. “But I saw the look on your face. It’s what you were thinking, wasn’t it?”
He let his shoulders slump and shook his head. He couldn’t in good conscience let this go on. He was her physician and her friend. He had to confront her. In love.God, I need help. What do I say? How can I help her?
“I’m sorry.” She appeared to deflate in front of him. “As you can tell, there are two topics that will get my temper up pretty fast. My dad being a drunk, and men pulling the wool over my eyes. You just happened to touch on both.” Wrapping the blanket tighter around her, she pinched her lips together and pulled her knees up to her chest. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but losing Granddad has made me feel ... broken. I don’t mean to take it out on you.” She closed her eyes. “Like I said, I’m fine. I need some rest. I recommend you try to sleep too. We’ll need to be ready to move as soon as the storm is past.”
And just like that, she closed the door on any more conversation. At least for right now. But she’d opened up to him more than he’d anticipated. Admitted to things as well. That was an enormous step.
Watching her from his perch a mere three feet away, he took note of her breathing. It was steady. The muscles in her face even began to relax. She must be exhausted to fall asleep with such speed.
The roar of the storm outside made him shift. He squirmed. The only thing separating them from a fierce blizzard was a thin piece of oiled leather. Maybe he should take Whitney’s advice and get some rest himself.
But when he closed his eyes the sounds of the storm were more prominent.
So he studied Whitney again. At least asleep she seemed peaceful.
How often had he seen the ravages of alcohol in hispatients? He would havenevergiven her that tonic if he’d thought her becoming dependent was even a remote possibility. Her abhorrence of alcohol had been in her favor.
Or so he’d thought.
But grief and pain could do horrible things to people’s minds. Especially strong, independent people. When men tried to do things on their own, without the help of the good Lord above, it resulted in disaster.
He should know. He’d tried to do so many things on his own. Still did. It was a lesson that he had to keep learning. Maybe that’s why he wanted to help Whitney so much.
Or maybe it was because he found her fascinating.
