Page 112 of Where Roads Lead

“Wait, did I actually scare you?”

“What the hell do you think? You could’ve broken your neck.” He ran a hand over his face, and for a second I felt bad. I wanted to piss him off, not terrify him, but I couldn’t deny the warmth that bloomed in my chest at the thought that he cared about me getting hurt.

Or just didn’t want you to die. That’s the bare minimum, Elsie. Get a grip.

“And you’re in slippers.” He looked down at my feet in horror. “Jesus, Elsie. Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?”

“I guess I didn’t really think about it,” I admitted.

“That’s the problem! You don’t think through anything. You can’t just run headfirst into a situation, wing it, and expect everything to be okay! That’s not how life works.”

I winced, feeling his words deeper than he could know.

That had always been my problem, hadn’t it? My whole life, I’d been too impulsive, too unstructured, too…much.

I just didn’t think someone who had known me for such a short time could already see all my shortcomings.

I mean, here I was in Colbridge, no plan other than my stupid goal of writing a novel. I showed up with minimal savings, and nothing but a dream to sustain me in an unfamiliar town.

I turned, ready to go inside and reevaluate all of my life choices when his hand shot out and grabbed my shoulder, forcing me into place.

“Wait.” His hand shot out, clamping down on my shoulder. “Elsie, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“No, you’re right,” I told him, barely able to meet his eyes. “I don’t think things through. That’s what Andrew said, too.”

“Andrew?”

“My ex—” fiance. The word almost tumbled out. But that would be more humiliating to admit. That I’d had a future secured, I had a plan, until he decided I wasn’t good enough.

So, I just left it at that.

“Ah.” Will nodded, apparently understanding anyway.

“Anyway, thanks for…that.” I glanced up at the half-finished gutters. “But really, you don’t have to worry about it. I’ll call someone if it’s that important to you.”

“Elsie, please don’t walk away.” He followed me as I moved toward the steps leading up to the side door. “I’m sorry.”

“You already said that.”

“I didn’t mean it. I was just—” He paused, long enough to make me turn to see the anguish written on his face. “I was worried about you. You scared me and I lashed out. I’m sorry. Okay? I’m sorry.”

And then, he collapsed into a sitting position right there on the steps, dropping his head into his hands.

“I’ve just had a really shitty night.”

I shifted, hyper-aware of the fact that I was in pajamas before I came to sit down beside him.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He laughed dryly.

“No, but I feel like you won’t accept that answer. Will you?”

“You know me well, William.” I smiled.

“I had dinner at my parents’, and it went shittier than usual, if you can imagine.”

I couldn’t imagine, because I didn’t know what that was like. Family dinners. Gathering around the table at the same time every night. Talking about your day, your life to people who actually cared.