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“Raelynn. You can’t do this to yourself. You’re a fucking genius, and you’re rotting away in this town.”
His hands circle my wrists so easily as he tries to get me to stop pushing him, but I don’t let up. I push with all my might and relish the feel of physically hurting him. I want to be hurting him, hurting someone, but it’s useless. I might as well be an ant trying to move a boulder.
His grip on my wrists tightens and he tugs me forward so I tumble against him. I crane my head back to look up as our chests press together. I’m fuming mad at the world, and if he keeps pushing me, he’s going to end up getting the brunt of that anger.
“Let me help you,” he implores, his voice low and tempting.
His attention leaves my eyes for a moment to skate across my lips, and then our gazes lock again and his brown eyes seem to dig into my soul. My breaths come quick and shallow, and my anger is starting to morph into something scarier. Desire. Heat. Our two bodies touch without a lick of space in between. He’s as hard as I imagined, and his muscles and size have a way of hijacking my senses. My anger trickles away with every second we stand chest to chest.
He dips his head and I stiffen, anticipating a kiss that doesn’t come.
His chin rests on my hair, and I listen to him inhale as his heart thumps against my hand.
“Little Bird.”
I squeeze my eyes closed as a shudder racks through me.
We don’t speak for a long while, but his offer still hangs in the air between us. Let me help you. We’re embracing, but not in a conventional hug. He still has a grip on my wrists. I’m still fisting his shirt as if at any moment I’ll gather up my residual outrage and kick him out of my trailer for good. I can’t remember the last time someone held me like this outside of Leanna the other day, but it was likely Nan. She gave the best hugs. She gives the best hugs, I remind myself angrily.
Thoughts of her bring me back to this trailer, and I step away from Ben and open the door.
“I leave for the Games in two weeks,” he says, confirming what I overheard at the grocery store earlier.
I nod to let him know I heard him.
“If you change your mind…”
He slips out and I slam the door, turn my back to it, and start to cry.
Chapter Thirteen
Raelynn
I’m on edge the next morning, expecting Ben to walk into Dale’s at any moment. I took the time to put some makeup on before my shift, made sure my dress wasn’t too wrinkly either. It’s not that I want him to walk in, per se. I’m not sure what I want. I slept like crap last night, tossing and turning and trying to get him out of my thoughts. I hate him for looking me up like that, for digging up dirt that should have stayed buried. Why’s it any of his business if I’m wasting away in Pine Hill or not? Up until a few weeks ago, we didn’t even know each other.
The bell over the door rings again, and it’s still not Ben.
Good, I tell myself. I don’t need to worry myself with him anyway.
I’m not taking him up on his offer. There’s no way I’d accept his help, whatever that might mean. I’ve been managing just fine on my own until now, and I’ll manage just fine in two weeks when he leaves. My stomach twists in protest, but I choose to blame the sharp pang on the fact that I didn’t eat much breakfast this morning.
“Are these two free?” a man asks, pointing between two empty stools at the counter.
I nod, reaching out to clear the empty plates. It’s been a busy morning and I’m dragging. I’m tempted to force down another cup of coffee, but I know it’d only make me a jittery mess.
“I’ll be back to grab y’all’s drink order in just a second.”
He and his friend take their seats and start chatting. I eye them as I get them some water, assessing their sport coats and button-downs. Their pressed khakis and the weight they carry around their middle. They look like grown-up frat boys.
I slide the waters in front of them and put on a cheerful smile.
“What can I get you two?”
They glance between each other for a brief moment, and then the blond one leans forward with a conspiratorial smile. “How about some pancakes and whatever information you can give us about Ben Castillo.”
My gut seizes.
How do they know I know Ben?
Have they been watching him?
Watching me?
“I hear he sometimes comes here,” the man continues, pulling out his phone like he wants to get my reply on record. “Have you ever served him?”
