“I did.” She laughed. “Did Cait’s phone not tell you where we were?”
“I’m never going to live that down, am I?”
She’d spent enough time with the other guys to know the answer to that, and she grinned. “I don’t know about never, but it’s going to be a while.”
* * *
Grant loved the way her eyes crinkled when she laughed at him. He’d be willing to do stupid stuff forever if it meant she’d look at him the way she was right now.
“Actually, that’s one of the reasons I asked you to dinner tonight,” he admitted. “To apologize again for last night.”
“You already explained. You didn’t need to feed me, too.”
“I know I explained, but it was still weird. And everybody was watching us, which made it even worse.” He paused while the server set down their drinks and walked away. “There’s nothing worse than temporarily losing your mind with an audience.”
“I think it’s weird for everybody,” she said quietly. “Me being back, I mean. Nobody knows how to act. Them. You. Even me.”
“You just be you,” he said. “And I’ll try to be myself without the side of weird and possibly creepy.”
“Okay, it’s a deal.” After taking a sip of her soda, she leaned back in her chair. “So catch me up on what you’ve been doing for the last few months.”
He’d rather talk about last night than relive the last five months, but they’d happened. They couldn’t pretend they hadn’t. “I worked. Watched sports. Made a few trips home to see my parents. Worked some more. I covered a lot of shifts, when I could get them.”
“And played hockey?”
He pressed his lips together for a few seconds, and then forced himself to relax. “I haven’t been playing much hockey lately. I, um...it’s not a great way to blow off steam if you’ve got anger issues.”
The understanding washed the amusement from her features, leaving behind guilt and sorrow. “I’m sorry, Grant. You love playing hockey.”
“I still hit the ice with the guys here and there. I just haven’t played in the actual games.” He shrugged like it was no big deal. “But I’ll play again. Guys kind of go in and out all the time, as stuff happens in life. Danny didn’t play for a while after Jackson was born. Now he’s back. Stuff like that is pretty normal.”
“I feel like you’re saying that to make me feel better.”
“I do want you to feel better, but it’s also the truth.” He reached across the table and took her hand. “Nobody’s responsible for what I do but me. And now I want to hear what you’ve been up to.”
“Working.” She sighed. “That was pretty much it. It wasn’t a great neighborhood, so mostly if I wasn’t at work or at the library, I was in my apartment, reading.”
“It breaks my heart, thinking about you being alone and shut away like that.” It was so true, his voice was a little hoarse when he said the words.
“It was a choice I made.” She looked out the window for a long moment, and then back at him. “It doesn’t matter why, or how afraid I was. I made that decision.”
“I know neither of us like dwelling on this, but can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
“If not for the fire, were you just going to stay there? I know you’re quiet and like to read, but under that quiet exterior, you’re so...vibrant. If you were going to run, why not run somewhere you could be more free?”
“Cait asked me that, the night of the fire. Why I didn’t drive until I was someplace cheaper to live. But I didn’t want to leave Boston. I was saving every penny and researching when I could, trying to figure out a way to make Ben go away.”
He flinched on the inside when she said his name. “I don’t want to beat a dead horse, but I’m compelled to point out again that the research would have been easier with friends helping you. Especially friends like firefighters and EMTs who know people, like the police.”
“I know. By the time I’d found a place to hole up in and the panic started easing, I couldn’t bring myself to make the call. I couldn’t drag you into it after what I’d done.” Her voice caught, and she swallowed some soda. “I think, deep down, I was hoping if I stayed in Boston and could figure out a way to solve the Ben problem, that maybe you and I... If I ran too far, there was never going to be any chance of seeing you again.”
It was still there, churning in his gut. Why the fuck didn’t you just tell me? He wanted to fling the words at her—to yell them from the rooftops—but he swallowed hard and kept them inside. He was never going to understand because he’d never felt the kind of fear and vulnerability she had, so the words would do nothing but inflict more pain and guilt.
The food couldn’t have arrived at a better time, he thought as the server set the calzone and fries on the table. “You need anything else?”
“We’re good, thanks,” he said to her back as she walked away.
