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Gasping,I jerk awake in the bed, my heart stuttering out of control and my tears wetting my cheeks again.
“Jesus!” I sit up and run my hands through my dark hair. Sweat coats my chest and hair. I can’t breathe and my body is locked up tighter than a virgin at a biker bar.
I stand up and walk into the bathroom, starting the shower. The window is still dark and I can tell that it’s way too early to be up but there’s no way I’ll be able to go back to sleep. Might as well just get up and start my day. It’s delivery day at the bookstore and that means it’s gonna be long and sweaty. Grunt work.
When I climb in the shower is hot and steamy and I can feel my tense muscles unwind. Groaning, I lean into the wall, leaning on my arm and closing my eyes, propping myself on the wall while the hot water beats down.
I am exhausted. I haven’t been able to sleep for a full night in over a year. Not since my partner died. That night was the end of any kind of rest in the dark hours for me. I sleep just enough to keep me going but always wake to the horrendous images of her that I can’t erase from my mind.
Turning, I tip my head back and shampoo my hair, slicking it back. I need to make an appointment to get my hair cut. But I hate to go to other businesses. Hate to open myself up to speculation and questions. All I want is to be left alone.
Small towns are wonderful things in some way. But in other ways…not so much. Everybody knows everybody’s business. Everybody knows that you’re hurting, which is humiliating. Luckily, most people don’t know why. They just feel sorry for you because they can tell you’re a fucking mess of a man.
Slamming my way out of the shower, I stalk over and throw on my clothes, already fed up with my own damn feelings and messed-up imagination.
Grabbing a quick snack bar for breakfast, I slam my way out of the house. It’s early but when I glance next door, I see that the driveway is empty. She’s gone and I know where. Bakers have to get an early start and she’s no different. She’s at the bakery which means she’s right next door to me yet again.
I can’t draw in a deep breath when I think about her next to me at work and now she’s next to me at home. Beautiful, funny, sparkling, damaged Cassidy. The girl who looks like she has it all…just like Becky did. Only hiding under all of that sweetness and light was a secret.
Cassidy seems to have the same kind of secret and it’s fucking with my head. Their stories are getting all tangled up and twisted in my head and I can’t seem to keep the lines from getting blurred on her story. Becky’s story.
Shuddering, my mind plays a movie like it’s on the big screen. The same movie it’s played for the last year but this ending is different. This ending has Cassidy’s body where Becky’s was and a jolt goes through my tense body, a low growling moan of pain rumbling in my chest.
Shoving it aside, my skin chilled yet sparkling with sweat, I start walking. I walk to work when I can. I like to get the fresh air and exercise before I’m stuck in the bookstore for a whole day. I love the bookstore but I’m used to moving around a lot more. After putting in a full day in the store, my nerves are stretched taut from the inactivity.
Which is also why today will be a double-edged sword. Inventory and putting away an order is exhausting, mind-numbing work. My old back aches by the end of the day. But it also means that my mind and body are so completely jacked that I’m usually able to just fall into bed, not caring about anything else but the need for sleep.
At least for awhile.
I push that thought aside as I stroll down the road, feigning utter relaxation. But when I reach the bakery and I see that for once there’s no line, I can’t stop my feet from turning in the door. I step up to the counter, breathing in all those delicious, sugary-sweet smells.
She bustles out from the back when she hears the door’s bell but stops in her tracks when she sees me, her light-brown hair stubbornly sticking to her face where little wisps have broken free from her scraped-back bun. Her perfectly-arched brows lift and she dusts her hands on her white apron.
“Franklin. How can I help you this morning?” Her words are so chirpy and sweet. I can’t figure out how she can sound so sweet when she’s hiding the secret she’s hiding. She shouldn’t trust anybody. Shouldn’t smile at anybody. Should definitely stay the hell away from me.
“Bearclaw,” I growl. “And black coffee.”
Her lips quirk up as she grabs the treat out of the case. “You sound like a bear this morning, Franklin. Get up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?” And then her soft, smooth skin flushes and she stutters, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It was rude of me.”
Shaking my head, I just nod. “I did actually.” I always do. But this morning had the added stress of her troubles and no matter what, I can’t let it go.
Taking a deep breath, I blurt out, “If you need someone to walk you home sometime or you need something, don’t hesitate to ask.” Because if something happens to you and I could have helped, I won’t be able to take another damn breath from pain.
Her lovely pink smile brightens up the already bright room. “That’s very sweet of you. But I’m alright.”
I hold up my hand. “No questions asked. Just tell me if you need anything.” I put out my hand to the card reader and tap it to pay. Then I turn to stalk out of the cave of sugary goodness. I hear her footsteps heading back to the kitchen and then clanging and a gasp of pain.
I’m turned around and running behind the counter before she can even say a word.
“What’s wrong?” I’m putting my things down and reaching for her before she utters a sound except for a gasp when my hand touches hers.
“I-I tripped and fell into one of the hot pans.” Her pink lips are tight and firm with pain, her face strained.
I reach out and brush my hand lightly along her forearm, wincing when I see the raised red mark. “You need to get that taken care of quickly. Come on.” Grasping her arm, I draw her over to the faucet and turn it on to cold, dragging her arm under the cool stream.
She sighs and her body relaxes, her gorgeous grey eyes closing. I close my own eyes when I breathe in her scent. Like a sweet sugar cookie with just a hint of something spicy. Like cinnamon or nutmeg.
I turn off the water and tug her arm to me, leaning close to get a good look. Her gasp has me looking up quickly, afraid that I’ve hurt her. But her wide eyes are open, staring at me and her fingers are twitching towards my face. I hold my breath as her palm touches my cheek lightly and she softly moans.
