AllFreeNovel
Share Us
As much as I want to tear that wall down, I can’t help but feel like it’s none of my business. People who are so guarded usually have a damn good reason. If he doesn’t want me close, then why bother forcing it? It’s like having that little bit of self-doubt that I just can’t shake keeps my man-picker broken. I can’t keep chasing after the ones who don’t want me.
By the time I head to the parking lot, I’ve made up my mind to stop pushing and just let Weston be as alone as he wants to be. But by doing so, I can’t get him a little token of my appreciation for getting rid of Jesse, so I can relieve myself of some of this anxiety I feel when I’m around him. Since I was just such a tool at lunch, I still have no idea what he might like.
“I’ve been waiting for you.”
I turn my head to look for the sound.
Weston leans against the door of his Civic, arms folded across his chest, keys dangling from his hand. “Do you always leave this late? I can’t imagine you make it in there on time,” he chides. “C’mon. Get in.”
I walk toward the car, not wanting to yell across the parking lot in the middle of the day. “Is there something wrong with my car that I should know about?”
He sighs, visibly annoyed that I’m not following his line of thought. “Do you really think that you should be driving alone after what happened last night?” He lowers his voice so that only I can hear. “I’d feel pretty goddamn worthless if I just let you go by yourself and something happened. It makes sense for me to drive you when we work the same shifts. It’s not like it’s taking any time out of my day. Unless you keep taking this long to get ready. Then we’re going to have to talk. I like being punctual.”
I stand for a minute with my hand on the door handle, offended at the barb and worried that I’ve taken up any time out of his day already. Until I hear that huffing sound from earlier. Weston is laughing. That was his idea of a joke. I smile to myself as I climb into the car. Weston cares. He just has a really weird way of showing it.
Chapter Eight
Weston
It’s become muscle memory by this point. For the last four days, I’ve locked the door to my apartment and then stood in the hallway, leaning against the opposite wall. After five minutes—once almost ten, but she looked pretty frazzled and sorry about it that time—she appears in her doorway, shoving some improbably huge mountain of junk into her massive purse, chewing the remains of a bagel or a bag of chips and toting a giant travel cup of iced coffee. She waves, smiles. I nod. We go down the stairwell together and I dutifully listen as she chatters about the shift last night. Sometimes about customers. Sometimes about Allie or Loretta. Once it was about a beer tap exploding when she tried to pour her own pint and how badly the foam stuck in the ends of her hair.
That led to me imagining her in the shower with the warm water soaking her strands. Those delicate fingers soaping up her skin. Her full breasts. Between her legs. My dick screams at me something fierce over the fact that I insist it can’t get hard in her presence. But the moment she leaves… it tents my sweatpants and I have to jerk myself off to get some peace.
I realize I’m tormenting myself by insisting on being close to her, but her brand of light is like the purest drug. I just can’t stop.
My heart started to soften somewhere around the time she told me she steals French fries from the line cook. Aw, fuck. It started to soften the moment I laid eyes on her.
But I can’t let her burrow her way under my skin. I would die if anything ever hurt her—even if that anything is me.
I used to like silence. Now I’m finding I don’t mind the sound of her voice. While I skirt around on the fringes, Elowyn relishes life.
I don’t know what compelled me to offer her the ride that first day. I already did enough by most standards. Some would say I’ve gone above and beyond. She isn’t my responsibility, just some girl who made some bad choices and happens to live close by. The first day it made sense. But Jesse didn’t dare show his face. And that should’ve been the end of it. I don’t think I offered the next day. And she didn’t ask. It just kept… happening.
And even though I know this can’t possibly go anywhere, I can’t bring myself to stop it. It’s not that there’s anything wrong with her, or that I’m not the guy for a sweetheart like her. I’m just not the guy foranyonewho would be considered normal. I come with too much baggage. The price is too high. I’m too busy with Mom, and I’m the reason she’s alone. Beyond that, I’m never going to forget what that asshole detective told me. I’ve spent my whole life trying to find a way to live with what I did, and I haven’t found a way yet.
Elowyn feels like the sunshine on your face after a dozen dark days. I can’t burden her with the cement shoes I’m walking in.
I try to not be off about it at the bar. I keep to myself like I always have, not talking to Elowyn more than I talk to the other employees. Every time my eyes seek her out, I make a conscious effort to stop and look somewhere else. She’s already had one bad break-up at work. I don’t want to get the rumor mill started about me, too. Which is why I don’t go with her to take out the trash at the end of the night, and I sure as hell don’t offer to do it myself.
Despite her broken vulnerability, she’s got an independent streak a mile wide. The woman’s a damn dichotomy which is probably why I’m so wound up in her.
There are moments my emotions become raw thinking about all the ways I could analyze that.
Along with all the reasons I shouldn’t.
As soon as she’s out of the building, Banjo swoops in. I was a fool to think he wouldn’t notice anything was different.
“So,” he starts, flipping a stool up onto the bar top with a practiced one-armed gesture. “I noticed you’ve been driving Elowyn to work.”
“We live right next to each other.” I try the same move with the stool and almost drop it on the floor, clanging the metal legs loudly against the bar. I hope it’s the lack of practice and not nerves. “It’s almost silly if we don’t. Saving money on gas. Good for the environment. You know, carpooling. Like the grown-ups do.”
Banjo laughs. “Makes perfect sense. And it has nothing to do with your need to protect her. I get it.”
“Why would I need to protect her?” I set the next stool down gently with both hands, trying not to repeat my mistake. “She’s tougher than she looks. She can handle things all on her own.”
My friend pulls his lower lip between his teeth. “The ex. Jesse. He’s a real piece of work.”
“I’ve seen it firsthand.” There’s no way Banjo heard about what happened. Elowyn would never have brought it up to anyone here, and Jesse wouldn’t dare mention it or else he’d look like a coward. “Don’t make this a thing.”
