“There’s a correct way to do everything.”
He studies me for a beat. “That explains a lot.”
“About?”
“You.”
I narrow my eyes. “In what way?”
“You handle things carefully. Even when you pretend you don’t.”
That lands. Not too hard but definitely unexpected. Somehow without my realizing it, Shepherd Haynes is seeingme, and I’m not sure how I feel about that. I look away first, swallowing my emotions, and thankfully he doesn’t push it further.
He watches me as I move through racks. Not in a possessive way. More in a curious way. “Are you looking for something specific?” he asks.
“Potential,” I say.
“That sounds philosophical.”
“It is.”
I hold up a worn denim jacket. “See this? Everyone else sees old. I see character.”
He nods slowly.
But again, Shepherd doesn’t push. If he’s analyzing, he’s not admitting it. He just quietly answers, “Makes sense.”
We move to the housewares section where I pick up a cracked teacup and run my thumb along the fracture line.
“Why this?” he asks, glancing over my shoulder.
“It survived,” I say without thinking. My chest tightens when I realize all the little secrets about myself that I’ve inadvertently let free. In a way, he makes it so easy to say what’s on my mind because I don’t feel like he’s judging me. Honestly that shocks me more than anything given the differences between us. I survive on thrifted items. Shepherd, on the other hand, could afford to buy everything in this store like he’s buying a cheeseburger at a fast food joint.
On the other hand, though, I’m grateful that Shepherd doesn’t ask a ton of questions or assume I’ll tell him everything about myself. Especially the dark, lonely parts. He doesn’t do any of those things and he doesn’t make me feel bad for keeping parts of me closed off. He’s just a comfortable presence walking beside me. Like what we’re doing is perfectly normal.
Outside, sunlight filters through the trees as we carry our bags to the car. I am now the owner of two new teacups and one extremely sparkly, sequined teal jacket, compliments of Shepherd. My heart hammers against my ribs, a sincere smile playing across my face as we make small talk about our newest purchases. If I’m being honest with myself, I feel lighter.
And that terrifies me.
I shouldn’t be enjoying myself with Shepherd Haynes. He’s all wrong for me.
But he feels so…right
Except people like him don’t stay with people like me.
“You’re good at this,” he says, pulling me from my thoughts.
“At shopping?” My voice sounds brittle even to me.
“At seeing things differently.”
I shrug, my throat tight. “You have to learn to.”
“Why?”
I hesitate because saying the real answer would mean cracking myself open, exposing the broken parts I’ve spent years hiding. So instead, I deflect. “Why are you so calm all the time?”
He laughs softly. “Practice.”
