I need distance from whatever the fuck is happening to me right now.
Farrah Nelson is like an incoming snowstorm. If I don’t batten down the hatches before she lands, my life won’t be recognizable anymore.
CHAPTER 13
Farrah
What the hell just happened?
I stare at Knox’s retreating form with my jaw practically to my chest. I have no idea what to do now.
He’s the most contradictory man I’ve ever met. One minute, he’s saving me from breaking my neck, and the next, he’s yelling at me for something I can’t control. And now he’s demanding I call him when I need help?
Absolutely not.
He’ll be the last person I call when I need something.
I take a minute for my heart to get back to a regular tempo before I try to figure out this ladder he bought.
I wince at the way I berated him for not getting the same one I had. I’m suddenly wondering how often I’ve let my own issues stoke this animosity between us. He owns plenty of the blame, but there’s every chance that I’ve added to it.
This time, I don’t need a therapist to tell me why I said what I did. How many times did my ex do something nice for me, only to turn it into something nefarious?
I shouldn’t have taken my trauma out on Knox. Nomatter our shared history, I am the only one responsible for my triggers.
But the man seems to have a direct line to them. I’m constantly trying to tame my reactions to him, but it never seems to work. The only point I will give Knox is that I have never once felt unsafe in his presence. In fact, I think he goads me to lose control more often than not. It’s as if he wants to see me at my worst because then he won’t feel so shitty about being at his worst.
I’d never tell him this, but it is quite freeing to say the first thing that comes to mind without worrying about his reaction. Oh, his words can slice, but when you’ve felt the pain of a fist over and over? Knox’s verbal cuts don’t even compare.
I begrudgingly have to acknowledge that the ladder he returned with is better than the one I bought. It does everything I need it to while being a whole lot easier for me to carry around.
If I can find my way off my high horse, I’ll let him know I’m grateful. Until then, I’m going to continue to curse him out.
With my new ladder, I’m able to paint the rest of my cabinets with no other incidents. I end up grinning at my adorably yellow kitchen. I’m going to paint the walls a light blue and then add some white daisies on top. I was inspired by a table at Curious Curios in town that had white daisies painted on it. I debated about buying the table, but decided to wait until I finished the kitchen.
I’m exhausted, but in the best way. I’ve accomplished more than I ever imagined I could in the month since school ended. Holt got me a great deal with a guy who fixed my roof. I was able to reuse more of the front porch planks than I expected, and I’ve gotten the kitchen almost redone. It’s not brand-new, but I was able to sand down the cabinets and upgrade the appliances to make it feel like it is.
Unfortunately, I’ve started to run out of money. Desi’s given me more hours at the diner this summer, and I don’t have to pay for my apartment anymore, so that’s helped. The kitchen will likely be my last major renovation though. I’ll have to do small pieces of the next rooms when I have the funds.
I’m not thinking about that part just yet. I’m happily living in a house I own, renovating it exactly how I want. That is an incredible feeling.
A meow has me narrowing my eyes at my traitorous cat. Picking him up, I snuggle Whiskey into my chest. “Why’d you have to go and like that annoying man? Aren’t you supposed to be territorial over me or something?”
Whiskey just rubs his head under my chin while I carry him upstairs to my bedroom. I race through a shower and change out of my sweaty work clothes. I’m supposed to meet Gwen and Gia at their house in twenty minutes for whine night. It couldn’t have come at a better time—I need some serious help figuring out what the heck is going on with Knox.
* * *
“Wait a goddamn minute,” Gia yells as she slaps her hand on the arm of her chair.
Gwen and I start giggling at her. We’ve had about three glasses of sangria apiece and have officially crossed the threshold of drunk.
“You’re telling me that man saved your life and then yelled at you for it?” Gia continues.
I grimace. “Sort of? I’m a little fuzzy on exactly what he was pissed at me about. I think it was that I was by myself when the ladder broke.”
Gwen tilts her head to the side. “Well, I suppose I could see how that would be dangerous.”
“I was only like six feet off the ground!” I argue. “Trust me, I’ve had way worse injuries than a few bruises from falling off a ladder.”
