Page 25 of Feel Me

He grins. “It’s a good sign we have the same tastes.”

“A good sign?” I ask, my heart speeding up.

“Friends are supposed to have similar tastes. If we had nothing in common, what would we have to talk about?” he asks easily.

“Oh. Yeah, I guess you’re right.” His words should make me feel better. I’m not sure why my emotions are so out of control when it comes to Lake. It’s confusing and silly. If Lake knew what a mess my mind was, he’d stop talking to me. I wouldn’t blame him.

“You seem to be doing good after your therapy session,” he acknowledges mid-bite.

“Yeah. It was an easy session. I mostly just talk about things and that’s getting easier. How about you? I noticed you came back from the doctor’s office more tense.”

“There wasn’t a lot to tell me. He looked at the preliminary shit and said everything looked okay. I’ve been having some problems, though. He wants to get everything back and then access me.”

“What kind of problems are you having?” I ask at once. Even I can hear the way my voice is threaded with heavy concern. I can’t help it. In the short time that I’ve spent time with Lake, he’s become important to me. There’s a pull inside me when he’s around. He eases a lot of the pain I’ve carried inside of me. I don’t know how or why—I just know it’s true.

“It’s not important,” he says, obviously not comfortable with the topic. I can understand that, but I can’t help the worry I feel either.

“Lake, if you’re sick, I want to know. I know I probably can’t help but I can be here for you,” I whisper, feeling awkward.

“You’d care?”

His words make something inside of me jolt painfully. I remember that feeling. After Bear died, when I was cut off from my father and a prisoner to the hell my brother made sure I’d experience daily, I’d feel so alone that I grew cold to the pain. After a while, it was as if everything was happening to someone else. Winnie had called it disassociation. My mind shut down, unable to take more, so it felt like I was only a spectator seeing everything that was happening, as if it didn’t truly involve me. One person caring back then would have meant the world. It might have even saved me.

“I care,” I admit. I tell myself that friends care about one another. That’s all this is. That’s all my heart has room for this to be. Yet, part of me knows that I’m lying. Lake feels like a safe place to land in a storm, like a dream that comes to soothe your mind, the sunlight in the morning shining down on your body—reassuring you that everything will be okay. Somewhere deep down, in a place that I can’t allow air into, I know Lake feels like a home—in a way that Bear did, in a way that Blade did, in the way that Winnie does, Cross does, and now the Wells brothers. Home.

Lake reaches over for my hand, squeezing it. The waitress shows back up for our orders. I start to pull my hand away. Lake’s grip tightens, not willing to lose this connection we’ve forged. He gives her our food choices, then centers his gaze back on me, my hand still secure in his.

“I’m just having headaches and staying tired, Livy. I’m sure everything is okay. The doctors are just being thorough and making sure. I don’t plan on going anywhere, especially now.”

“Now?” I ask. Then I take a breath. “I’m sorry, Lake.”

“What are you sorry about?” he asks.

“I’m pushing you and I have no right to. It’s not my place to know what’s going on. I’m using my concern for you to try to get you to confide in me, and that’s wrong.”

“If not you, then who, Livy? You’re the only person I’ve ever wanted to confide in. Carson and his brothers have been damn good to me. I owe them more than I could ever repay. You’re different.”

“I’m so sorry. I still believe you should talk to someone, but of course Colt or one of the others would be the ones you would lean on. You know them better. All I ask is that you don’t hold it in. I know better than anyone what happens when you hold in issues and the emotions they stir, Lake.”

We go quiet as our food is put in front of us. I cut open the biscuits and start slathering butter on them—mostly to keep myself busy. I place both on the small saucer beside Lake.

“One of those is yours,” he says, watching me with an intensity that is practically overwhelming.

“You need it. You do a lot of physical labor all day. Besides, I’m particular on my biscuits. That’s the one thing I don’t really like here at the diner.”

“I’ll make a note. Which place has the biscuits you like?”

“My house,” I whisper with a grin.

He laughs, and the sound warms me. Somewhere deep inside, I compare it to Bear’s laughter. Lake’s is deeper and rougher in sound, but it’s similar too. I smile because it makes me feel peaceful. “I don’t know, these are pretty good,” he banters, his voice playful despite his graveled tone—which I’m starting to really like.

“Mine are better,” I brag shamelessly.

“Maybe you can cook for me sometime and prove it.”

“It’s a deal,” I laugh.

We eat quietly. He asks me simple questions in between bites, and I do the same. It’s relaxing and much needed after the way I pushed him to talk about his injuries and doctor appointment.