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Chapter 8
My Feelings
Arielle Nygard
The door opens before I get the key in the lock and Tim lets me in. He’s been treating my home like his own for years, and it no longer startles me when he does it.
“Hi, you’re home early,” he says warmly and places a soft kiss on my cheek. He’s greeted me like this since Steve’s funeral and I’ve always taken it as brotherly affection. But this kiss lingers just a moment too long, and it makes me uncomfortable. I shake it off, telling myself not to overreact.
“Hi,” I say back and follow him in to where he’s packing dinner dishes in the dishwasher. “My boss got back sooner than expected. How was Austin.”
“Good as gold,” he smiles, glancing up from where he’s hunched over the washer.
I keep talking, trying not to babble, but worried that if I don’t keep the conversation flowing, he’ll read something in my eyes. “And how was your shift?” Tim’s a detective now, advancing from beat cop after the death of his partner.
“Not too bad. We got a fresh lead on that murder case, which got everyone excited. We were all starting to lose steam on the investigation, and this information lit a fire under everyone’s asses.” A teenager had been found in a dumpster behind a Chinese takeout, strangled to death. The whole of the Las Vegas Police Department had been looking for the girl’s killer for two months, but no one had made much headway.
“Oh good. I know I’ll sleep easier when you catch that monster.”
He fills the machine with soap and sets it to wash. “Are you hungry? There are leftovers in the fridge.”
“Nah, I’m good,” I say. “I want to say good night to Austin before he goes to bed.” I check the clock hanging above the door. “Still five minutes till bedtime.” I pour myself a glass of wine and relax until it’s time to go through Austin’s bedtime routine. Tim is the only one, aside from me, who can handle this, and I’m reminded again of my dilemma tomorrow.
I take Austin to brush his teeth and change into his pajamas before tucking him into his bed. Then I sit with him for ten minutes while we listen to calming classical music on my phone. Austin doesn’t like to be touched, but at bedtime, he’s more accepting. I relish these moments when I can connect with my child. I repetitively run my hand over his arm, from wrist to shoulder, as he lies quietly next to me. His skin is warm and soft, his face relaxed as sleep claims him. He has so much of Steve in his features that my heart aches sometimes. I kiss the top of his shaggy blond head and carefully extract myself. “Sweet dreams, baby,” I whisper as I leave the room.
Tim’s made a pot of coffee and is sitting at the kitchen table with a cup. “I saw your wine glass, and I wasn’t sure if you’d want coffee too.”
“I’ll stick with wine,” I say as I take my seat. Tim’s tapping his finger against the side of his mug, a sure sign that he’s gathering his courage for something. I don’t interrupt; I just watch him as I sip my wine. A minute later, he takes a deep breath.
“I know you said no last time, but I want to ask you to please reconsider going out on a date with me.” He says the words quickly, with just a hint of pleading.
“Tim, I—” I start to say, but he cuts me off.
“I know you think there’s nothing between us, but if you give us a chance, I know you’ll change your mind. I know you see me as a brother, but I definitely don’t see you as a sister. I never would have said or done anything if Steve were still alive, but I’ve been attracted to you since we first met. I love Austin, and I want to take care of both of you. Haven’t I shown you how much I care about you? Please, just give me a chance?”
How do you reject someone after a declaration like that? He’s right; I do see him as a brother. Tim’s exceptionally good-looking; women practically drool when he walks by. His dark eyes and dark hair invoke images of Prince Charming charging in on a white horse to save the day.
He’s smart and kind, and he’ll make a fantastic husband and father. But I have zero romantic feelings for him. Perhaps if I’d met him when I was single, before I shared an earth-shattering kiss with Sam, I might feel differently. Still, I know that Tim will never elicit anything close to the desire I have for Sam.
My heart breaks a little as I speak. “Tim, I’m so sorry, but I just don’t feel the same way. If I said yes, I’d just be leading you on because I know my feelings won’t change. And I respect you too much to do that to you.”
I’m caught by surprise when Tim slams his hand down on the table. His eyes turn hard with anger, and I’m suddenly afraid.
“Dammit! What do I have to do to get you to notice me? I’ve been here for two years, waiting for you, helping you get over Steve, taking care of your son. I’ve never forced myself on you; I’ve treated you with respect. And all you can say is you’re sorry? I love you, Arielle!”
I stand up slowly from the table, trying not to make any sudden movements. Tim’s words have chilled my blood. I’ve never heard him speak like this before, and my gut tells me that being alone with him right now is not wise. I take a shaky breath but steady my voice before I speak.
“I think you’d better leave Tim.” I try to sound in control without being challenging. “It’s late, and I don’t want to wake Austin.”
He’s still seething with anger as he stands up, and I have to force myself not to flinch. I hold my breath as he stalks to the kitchen door, steps through, and slams it shut behind him. When I hear his car pull away, I walk to the kitchen door on shaky legs and lock it. I check the front door and the security gate, which are both locked already. I turn off the lights and close the curtains. Then I close and lock the passage door that leads to the bedrooms. I am really freaked out. But even through the fear, I recognize how lucky I am. Tim could have unleashed his temper and I would be powerless to stop him.
Thankfully Austin has slept through the outburst. I creep into his room and sit on the floor where I can see my son. As I watch him sleep, his gentle presence calms me, and my heart-rate returns to normal. Tim’s anger reminds me of Sam’s anger the night at the bar. I’m suddenly struck by how differently these two incidents made me feel.
Tim had frightened me, his words and tone making me fear for my safety. The only thing I could think was that I needed to get as far away from him as possible. And he thought that not forcing himself on me should count in his favor. That I owed him consensual, willing sex because he hadn’t taken advantage of me. The thought made me so sick that I couldn’t imagine even seeing him again, never mind touching him. But Sam… Sam’s anger hadn’t scared me. It excited me. I couldn’t get close enough. I suspect that if we’d both been naked, it still wouldn’t have been close enough.
Does that make me a freak?
