Page 7 of Love At Peace

It wasn’t vanity that had me rushing inside to hide from him. I simply couldn’t face him any longer. Tears or not.

I despised that I could be moved to tears from this fight with Roarke. And he was right, on so many counts, where we were concerned. It was our first fight. We were more of a couple than two strangers. And I’d be damned if I admitted either of those to him.

Eventually, I wiped my cheeks and cleared my throat, willing this stupid bout of tears to fade. It was anger, more than a general state of being upset, that pushed me to break like that. Furious and feeling stuck in that argument, I just wanted to vent. To scream. To let out some of the pent-up pressure in my chest, and I had done so with pathetic tears.

At least he’s gone now.

He’d lingered. I knew he had. He’d stepped toward the front door that I’d slammed in his face. His boots crunched on the gravel of the path as he neared the cabin, but I was grateful those sounds now indicated that he was walking away.

I didn’t have the energy to go another round with him.

I couldn’t handle fighting him when I had to be defensive in every other way in my life.

Against David being here. Against the issue at work. Against Nevaeh stirring up trouble however she planned to.

“I’m not naïve, dammit,” I said aloud as I stood then washed my face.

Or weak.

Or stupid.

He could take those opinions and shove them. If he actually thought those things of me, he didn’t know me at all.

But wasn’t that his point? That he doesn’t know me?

I was secretive. I hadn’t told him—or anyone—about what I ran from in Chicago, but his attitude wasn’t encouraging me to open up now.

I stared at my reflection in the small mirror for another minute and shook my head.

Enough wallowing. Enough second-guessing myself. I supposed in a small way that I should feel glad that he fought with me instead of reverting to some kind of a twisted mind game. He didn’t employ the same mental warfare that David did. Roarke was patient, if frustrated. Roarke listened, even if he was too confused to connect the dots like I had.

Because they’re not the same.

Roarke is not David.

Still, that distinction wasn’t enough to make me change my mind about him. So long as he’d oppose me about this situation, I didn’t need him making anything worse.

I left the bathroom and realized that I hadn’t brought my lunch bag in from my car. Spotting Roarke at my front door had put me in combat mode so quickly that other smaller details fell from my mind.

My routine was to clear out that bag and put the ice containers in the freezer as soon as possible, so after checking out the window that Roarke was gone like I thought he was, I headed out to my car.

I wasn’t alone though.

Another vehicle was parked nearby. At the next cabin over, the closest one to mine, was Todd’s old beat-up truck. It wasn’t there when I pulled up to mine. Maybe he’d arrived while Roarke and I were arguing. I hadn’t been paying attention to anything else while we got into that sort of shouting match.

Regardless of when the older man had arrived, he was still out there. His thick Carhart moved as he dug, seeming to poke along a line near the water meter at that cabin.

I unlocked my car, and at the click of the fob on the locks, he glanced up. Then again, as I walked toward the driver’s door and opened it, he lifted his head for a moment and looked at me. Once more, after I got my bag out and shut the door, he peeked at me.

“You all right, hunny?” he asked, keeping his face down as he poked the shovel at the dirt. His hun ya drawl was the same as it was every other time. Casual and nonthreatening. He wasn’t talking down to me, nor was he being cunning and overly sweet.

He was just Todd. A slight busybody with mild curiosity.

And there was no chance he was asking that for the hell of it.

I huffed a laugh and walked toward him. “Let me guess. You heard all of...that?” I jerked my thumb toward my front door, indicating where Roarke and I had argued.

“My hearing ain’t what it used to be,” he replied, leaving the spade in the dirt as he faced me. He set his hand on the top of the handle and leaned on it. “But I reckon I heard ’nough.”