I turn, digging my keys out of my pocket when her voice stops me.
“Nope. I’m not going. Thanks anyway,” she says as she opens the driver’s door.
I can’t stop the words that spew out of my mouth.
“Do you have a fucking death wish, lady? No way you’re getting killed on my property. I don’t have time to deal with the cops. Get in my fucking truck. Now.” I reach her in four big strides and cup her elbow, planning to make her get in the truck. I want to be done with this.
Only somehow, her elbow’s not there anymore.
I reach for it again, and she grabs my wrist in a powerful grip. I freeze, surprised at her strength and meet her eyes.
Holy shit.
I don’t know what I expected to see on her face. Anger maybe? I’m being a dick, and I know it. So anger would make sense. Fear or worry, maybe? I’m a big guy, and I’m not even trying to use my manners anymore. I’m used to people being cautious around me. Any of those would make sense to me. But no. Her eyes are crinkled up. She’ssmiling.
What the fuck?
She squeezes my wrist. “Aw honey, I’d love to dance. But it’s the middle of the night. Why don’t we save it for another time?” She reaches up with her other hand and pats me on my cheek, the way Mrs. Marshall used to after I’d repaired her Oldsmobile for the millionth time. From an eighty-year-old, it makes sense. From this woman? I have no idea what’s going on anymore.
“You’re a fucking lunatic.”
She laughs brightly and nods her head before leaning toward me, rising on her toes. She’s tall, gotta be almost six feet. Her mouth moves close to mine, and she whispers, “You have no idea, big man.”
5
BECCA
The grumpy guy’s eyes are wide on me, watching me warily. He should be worried. I’m a woman on the edge here. I think he’s finally getting the picture, but maybe I should spell it out.
“I’m not leaving. You don’t want me on your property? Fine. I’ll roll it out to the street and park there.” I’m entering the land of ‘I don’t give a fuck’. It’s been a shitty trip so far, through the treacherous lands of grief and loss, so hopefully I’ll get to stay awhile. I open the door, preparing to slide in.
“That’s not a fucking solution!” he roars. Roars. Like a big, growly lion.
“Jeez, man. You need to calm the fuck down, or you’re going to end up having a heart attack. I really don’t want to have to call the ambulance and answer a bunch of questions.” I say, repeating his words back to him. I’m joking, but I’m kinda not. He does not look good. “That shade of red is not very becoming.”
I slam the door, walking back toward him. He watches me, his chest heaving. I reach out and plant my hand in the middle of his enormous chest and lock eyes with him.
“Breathe with me.” I draw a big breath in. He just watches, and I pat him on the chest again. “Breathe. One big deep breath and hold it.” I draw another deep breath, relieved when he does too. I hold it, tapping five out on his chest before slowly blowing out. “Good. Again.” We do it a few more times, and his colour improves.
I’ve only known him for fifteen minutes, but I already know he’s too stressed.
“You need to center yourself, dude. Give me three things.” He looks at me in confusion, and I elaborate. “Tell me one thing you can hear.” He studies me, his eyes flipping between mine before answering.
“Traffic on the highway.” I tilt my head, listening until I can hear the traffic on the highway far in the distance.
“Good. Now tell me one thing you can smell.”
“Vanilla.” I smile, liking that one. And a little surprised my body lotion’s still hanging in there.
“Now, tell me one thing you can feel.”
His eyes sharpen on mine, staring with an intensity that sends a shiver down my spine. It must be the cold.
“Your hand on my chest.” I tap my fingers gently on his chest in response.
“Good. Just keep breathing, big man.” I let my hand linger on his chest a little longer before stepping back. His hand comes up, trapping mine for a moment, before letting me go.
Now I’m the one who needs centering.
