Page 21 of Hard to Love

Chapter Twelve

Thayer

“No, One. I’m busy and can’t run it over. Where are you? Why would you leave the sample? Fine, I’m coming.”

Damn it. I really don’t want to run into Hardy. It’s like One knows and wants to make me miserable. Then again, maybe I just need to do it, get it over with. Like a band-aid, rip it off.

Hardy’s jerked me around so much, I feel as though I have whiplash. The shit he pulled Saturday finished me. I’ve whined and cried long enough. He’ll never get over his aversion of One being my brother. What the fuck ever.

After picking up the paint samples for One, I drive over to Lea’s. We’ve gotten to know each other lately, and I like her a lot. The more time I spend with her, the more I love her. I can quickly call her my friend. I’d like nothing more than for her to become my sister-in-law. Lea would be suitable for One, so much better than his ex-wife, Montgomery. She was such a cunt.

Taking the final turn before Lea’s house, I throw up a silent prayer. If at all possible, my heart can do without seeing Hardy. Parking my truck, I take a much-needed breath before getting out. Quickly scanning the area for him, I see One through the front door.

Thinking I’d spend the day in the office ordering supplies for my next job, I didn’t dress up. An old college t-shirt and cut-off denim jeans with my old, ratty Chuck’s is the attire for the day. My hair is piled high in a messy bun.

Speed walking to the porch, I take the steps two at a time. Glancing around, I don’t see either of them now. Another minute affords me the chance to hear them; she’s giggling. It’s sweet, helping to bring a smile to my face thinking of One. Meandering the path to the back bedroom, I finally find both One and Lea.

After making lunch plans with Lea, I dispense some much-needed advice to them. Smug in my accomplishment, I’m leaving in a fog when I trip over something. Throwing my hands out in front of me to try to catch my balance, I’m surprised when I never hit the ground.

Massive arms are wrapped around my waist, hauling me upright. By the warmth spreading through me, I know before looking it’s Hardy. Mother fucker, I want to be angry. Why can’t I be mad as hell?

Instead, I throw my elbows wildly until I land a couple. “Mother fucker, get your goddamn hands off me, you prick.”

“Calm the fuck down, Thayer,” he growls in my ear as he somehow wraps my flailing arms with his.

His chest is unyielding against my back, so much, so our bodies begin to meld. Hard as my mind says fight, my heart won’t let me. Wanting to be right here, in his arms, feeling him this close to me, is all I need. The hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention when he leans closer to whisper.

“You’ll never understand how sorry I am.” Then he releases me as quickly as he says it.

Pushing off of him, I whirl immediately, pinning him with a glare of death. I’m not sure who I’m angry at, him or myself, for wanting it. Fisting my hands, I swing without thinking it through. He catches the first punch, dodging the second. When he does, his head catches the corner of an exposed board.

“What the fuck, Thayer. Shit. Calm the fuck down,” he demands as his hands grip my wrists. Above his left ear, blood trickles from his hair. I feel like shit.

“Oh, God. Hardy, I’m sorry. Come here.” Pulling him slightly, he hesitates, then finally relents.

“Come on, we’re drawing attention. I have tissues in my truck.” Letting go of one hand, he loosens his grip on the other.

Releasing my hand as I yank my door open, I lean in to grab the tissues. A guttural sound from behind me helps to remind me I’m bent over the seat in front of Hardy with my cheeks hanging out. Oh, well. I smirk as I wiggle my way back out, helping me to grind against him.

“Oh, sorry. Didn’t realize you were so close.” I twist to face him. Tiptoeing, I look at his head. “Here, let me get the blood off to see if you need stitches.”

Leaning in to apply pressure, I lose my balance. As I begin to sway, I place my hand on his chest. No doubt about it; we both jolt from the current that runs through us. Our eyes lock, making me bite my lip to hold back the audible gasp.

“I’ll, ah, sit down if it makes it easier.” He’s so close he can almost whisper it to me.

“Oh, yeah. It would make it easier to see.” Snapping out of the trance his beautiful green eyes have put me in, I step to the side, letting him sit on the door well of my truck. No way can he be comfortable, but prying eyes will have a hard time seeing or hearing anything like this. So I step between his legs, holding his face with one hand, and apply a little pressure to his cut. Lifting it up every so often to check it.

“There, it’s just about to stop. You need some antiseptic and a butterfly Band-Aid. Where’s the first aid kit?” I ask, stepping away to look at him.

“One’s truck.” His face is pulled tight, making his eyebrows slant down, forming the v between his eyes.

“Okay, be right back. Keep pressure on it, please.” I hurry to One’s truck, grabbing the kit before this becomes a scene.

“Got it. Put your head down a little.” Parting his hair as best I can, I apply antiseptic and a small butterfly Band-Aid. “There ya go. Try not to move too quickly or hit it again. It may not have needed stitches this time, but I would still be careful.” Taking his face in my hand, I gaze into his eyes at war with his heart and mind.

“It’s not that easy, Thayer. Try to understand.” There it is, the look when he speaks from his heart. Soft, green eyes telling me, pleading with me to not give up.

“Never said it was, just wanted the chance to try. You do understand you’re worth the effort, don’t you, Hardy?” I find myself searching his face for any sign that he comprehends what I’m saying.