“I don’t need you to take care of me.I’ve been doing just fine on my own for the last thirteen years.”
“Katelyn, I’m not trying to take care of you.I’m trying to help.”
“Why?Why do you care enough to help?”
I expect anger from him.I expect that mask he surely wears to slip away, revealing the monster beneath.What I don’t expect, in any way, shape, or form, is the kindness that remains on his face.
Or the way his shoulders slump forward ever so slightly.“Because you’re a great mom and Thomas is a great kid.Because you’re two people who deserved a dry, safe place to sleep last night.Or, maybe it’s because I genuinely care about what happens to the woman who saved my life and cared enough to bring me trays of food so I wouldn’t go hungry.”He comes around the kitchen island, each step bringing him closer to me.
A part of me wants to run.
To flee so the anger that surely simmers beneath the surface of his cool façade doesn’t explode on me.
But there’s a stronger voice cutting through the fear.And this one assures me that Garrison will never hurt me.Not on purpose, at least.So I remain rooted in my spot as he comes to a stop right in front of me.
“Take your pick, Katelyn,” he says softly.“But if you want the truth, it’s all three.”
I stare up at him, my gaze locking on his while I try to understandwhyhe seems to care.Especially since I happen to be the reason he wound up back in the hospital that second time.Sure, I tried to make up for it by doing something nice, but standing here in his living room, looking into his kind, dark gaze, I get the impression it has nothing to do with what I did and everything to do with who he is.
A man who wants to do good in a world riddled with darkness.
“Thank you,” I reply.Every ounce of my anger deflates like an old balloon.“And I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize,” Garrison says.He reaches toward me, and I flinch out of habit.
Embarrassment floods me as Garrison drops his hand and his expression shifts to one of understanding.
“I do need to apologize because I was rude.”I take a step back, needing distance before I do something stupid and lean in so he’ll do exactly what it was he was thinking about when he raised that hand.Was he going to run his fingertips over my cheek?Brush hair behind my ear?
“You woke up and found your son gone.That’s not rude.Can I get you some coffee?”
“I could definitely use some.”I smile.“Thanks.”
“Not a problem at all.”As he starts making my coffee, using an impressive-looking espresso machine on his counter, I am helpless to look away.The strong muscles of his arms shift with each movement.
Victor was a quarterback, and his lithe runner’s body gave him the speed he needed to weave through the other team’s defense.My stomach churns as the memories assault me.The handsome quarterback with a bright future.A real-life Prince Charming…or so everyone thought.
They had no idea what happened when the doors closed.
Or the truth of the nightmare that led me to be on the arm of the sport world’s most eligible bachelor.No one but his brother…who is even more of a monster than Victor ever was.
Victor may not have been a muscular man, but his hands were violent.
Garrison, on the other hand, is built like a fighter, yet I know, without a doubt, his touch would be tender.
In another life.
Back before my innocence was ripped away.Before I was forced to live a life of lies until I was finally strong enough to fight back.
Before I had to run.
That’s the lifetime when something between Garrison Holt and me could have been possible.And as I sit here in the kitchen, watching him, I let myself imagine what that might have been like.
With the addition, of course, of my sweet boy.Because, no matter what I had to go through, I’d suffer through it all over again for Thomas.
Where would Garrison and I have met?
What would we have done on our first date?