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I tore off the headphones.
“What the fuck, Barrett?”
He held his hands up in apology, holding himself still in the face of my anxiety. “I’m sorry, curly, I didn’t mean to startle you.”
I spun around, putting my back to him.
He had touched my little bag. He touched what was ugly and broken and wrong with me. Though he did not know what it was, him being so near to my great failing, filled me with shame. The same shame that so often morphed into anger.
I tucked the little bag into my palm, and then felt guilty for hiding it. I should wear a scarlet letter every day of my cursed life. I realized I was swinging, wildly, and I needed to lock it down. My senses had been on super high alert, worse than usual. I’d never spoken to him like that. Why would I? I took a deep breath.
“I’m sorry, you just startled me.”
“I see that,” he rumbled, concern clear in his voice.
I turned back around. “It’s okay, I’m okay.”
“Are you? Are you okay?” He stepped closer and my hold on my anxiety slipped.
“I just said I was okay,” I snapped.
“Willa,” he rumbled, “let me in.”
“I can’t do this right now...”
“Then when? I can see you’re suffering. I want to be there for you, I want to help…”
I cut him off. “God! You just don’t know when to back off, do you? Not every-fucking-body needs to be rescued, Viking. Not every-fucking-body can be fixed.”
A knock sounded on the closed door, a voice asked from outside the door, “Are you all right, Willa?”
I pulled in a breath and went to open the door, finding Kerry, the shelter manager, standing there with concern on her face.
“I’m fine, Kerry. Sorry I yelled. I’m dealing with a personal matter, and I was surprised. It’s all good.”
“Okay,” she still looked concerned, “I’m here if you need to talk.”
She craned her neck to see past me into my office. I opened the door further.
“It’s okay. Barrett is a good friend and he’s been talking through it with me. Don’t worry, I’m done talking about it now.”
“Well, the offer stands,” Kerry said as she started to walk away.
“Thank you.” I held the door open further. “I’ll see you later, Barrett, thanks for stopping by.”
Hurt registered on his handsome face for just a moment before he covered it and headed slowly towards me. I stopped my eyes from seeking his, but I felt him studying me. He stopped right in front of me, and I slowly brought my gaze up to meet his. I wondered if he could see the sorrow in my eyes. Sorrow for what I was dealing with, sorrow for how I’d treated him.
I always knew that when it came down to my wellbeing or his, I would choose mine. I was inherently selfish. I inherited that from my mother. I was still sorry for it.
When I finally met his beautiful eyes, I winced at the pain and concern swirling in their depths. I held my silence. It was better that he knew what I was now, before he got in too deep.
He reached out his hand and wrapped an errant curl around his finger. I only just stopped myself from turning into his hand, but I couldn’t stop my eyes from closing or the hitched breath that escaped my lips.
He touched his forehead to mine for a split second and murmured, “I’ll see you, curly.”
He released my hair. I kept my eyes closed as he walked away. I listened until the sound of his footsteps faded, and I felt that loss, too.
That was the first blow.
