A little, yes. I’d come outside to avoid an audience to my meltdown, not advertise it to the hottest man I’d ever seen. But I was taken back to that day when I found him in a similar position—minus the tear stains.
“Sure. I mean, sure, like it’s fine,” I hiccupped again and ducked my head, breaking our stare. Why was I the way I was? If awkward had a name, it’d be mine.
Garrett climbed up, slowly bending those long, thick legs to sit next to me. We couldn’t have even been a foot apart, and his warmth and smell surrounded me even more than the hoodie did, the two somehow both calming me and waking me at the same time.
It wasn’t until I smelled the real thing that I realized his hoodie had long ago stopped smelling like him. I’d worn it to bed too many times, covering it in my own, less sexy scent. At least that would make it easier to convince myself to return it. Which I would do…as soon as he left.
“You want to talk about it?”
“It’s nothing. I just needed a minute.”
“It doesn’t look like nothing, and I’m a good listener.”
Fresh tears spilled down my cheeks. Now that I’d started, I couldn’t seem to shut it off. “It’s fine.”
He leaned forward, resting his arms on his thighs and side-eyeing me. “Is it about your ex-husband?”
I inhaled sharply, choking on my own saliva and proceeding to have a mild hacking fit. “No,” I croaked out.
“You sure? I could always go break the fucker’s nose if it’ll bring a smile to your face.”
I laughed then, loud and full. It was shaky and not at all attractive with my congested nose, but it felt freeing. A few bricks that’d been sitting on my heart fell away.
His head whipped in my direction, and he stared at me in a way I didn’t quite understand, but it made me feel like he was searching for something. I wiped my hands over my face again, worried I had snot smeared, or something else horrifying. “I’ll take a raincheck on that.”
He didn’t push, seeming to understand that I needed the silence to center my thoughts. I sat up straight, stretching my legs down the stairs and fighting the irrational urge to rest my head on his shoulder.
“Jamie wants to join a soccer team. Apparently, he’s wanted to for a while.”
Garrett tipped his head back, his brow furrowing at the explanation for my tears. “And that’s bad?”
“I didn’t know. He said he plays every day with friends, and I didn’t even know he liked it. He didn’t want to ask me because of the money. He was afraid I’d have to get another job. As if he thought he wouldn’t be worth it.”
I took a shuddering breath, fisting my hands in my lap and mentally swearing I wouldn’t start crying again. I was an adult, dammit.
He bent one leg, turning to rest it on the porch so he could twist toward me. “How many jobs do you have?”
“Three.”
“You just, do what? Interchange them to match full time?”
I gave a hollow laugh. “No. I work the same schedule every week, usually between sixty and sixty-five hours.”
He reared back, barely avoiding smacking his head on the railing. His eyes were the widest I’d ever seen them. “The fuck you do.”
“I do.”
“Every week?”
“Every week.”
He stared at me like I’d not only grown a third head, but a magical unicorn one. “You don’t get any kind of assistance from your ex?” He worked his jaw, looking out toward the road, “Sorry, that’s none of my business.”
I ignored the implication that Aaron was Jamie’s father. Most people assumed that, and I was too emotionally depleted to hash out my entire moldy history.
“It’s all right. No, I don’t get child support or anything. I’ve tried for years, but he takes jobs that pay under the table, so it’s never happened.”
I didn’t like thinking about how much easier our lives could’ve been if the sperm donor had just been willing to assist with the child he’d helped procreate.
Garrett’s tongue pushed into the inside of his cheek, and I could tell by the way he was looking at me that he wanted to ask something else, but he didn’t. “So, your son sacrificed something he enjoys, trying to make your life easier?”
My face crumpled, tears pooling all over again. Putting it that way fucking hurt. My chest was filling up with blood from the knife wound Garrett had just graciously given me. “Yeah,” I sobbed, “I guess so.”
“You must be one hell of a mom for that boy to love you that much.”
“No, he’s just an amazing kid all on his own.” I sniffed, pulling my legs back to my chest like an infant.
He leaned toward me and I froze, but he only flicked a mosquito off my wrist. “My parents divorced when I was a little older than Jamie. My dad…he wasn’t a good person. It took longer than it should have for my mom to gain enough confidence to leave him.”
He trailed off, removing a pack from his pocket and pulling out a cigarette. I couldn’t speak; I couldn’t fucking breathe. I knew how those stories played out, how it’d played out not only for me, but for Jamie. And my heart ached for the child Garrett was and what he might have witnessed.
“Anyway, my point is that I can guarantee without a shadow of a doubt, I wouldn’t have turned out half as good as I did if I’d had to live with my dad. A kid can be born happy, but it’s the love they receive that teaches their heart to be gentle.”
He glanced at me, and a faint blush painted his cheeks when he saw me blatantly staring at him. There was a whole lot more to this man than I’d have ever guessed after our first few interactions. I’d gotten a glimpse of the cinnamon roll hiding underneath his sexy, stoic coating, and I liked it.
I smiled and gave in to my urge, tipping my head to rest against his shoulder. “Thank you.”
“I didn’t do anything,” he said, voice gruff, but he didn’t pull away.
Finally experiencing a touch of contentment, I watched his fingers roll the cigarette back and forth. “You know, not to be a mom or anything, but you really shouldn’t smoke.”
He huffed, curling his fist around it. “I haven’t lit one in almost two weeks.”
That would explain the unlit one the other night, I supposed. “Does holding one help with the craving?”
He shifted, and my head rose and fell with the slight movement of his shoulder. “Gives me an excuse to sit outside.”
I nodded against him but wasn’t sure what he meant. Why would someone need an excuse to be outside? Unless what that someone actually wanted, was an excuse to see if his neighbor was outside. I brushed the errant thought away. The idea was ridiculous.
We sat there like that, neither feeling the need to speak, until the sound of my front door opening had me shooting up. It was just Layla. She stepped out, coming up short when she saw us on the stairs, and her eyebrows met her hairline.
Seeing Garrett had stood and stretched out his hand, I took it, letting him pull me to my feet.
“I better go inside. Here—” I grabbed the hem of his hoodie, pulling it over my head before folding it in half and holding it out to him. Left in the brisk air with only a thin top, I shivered. “Thanks for lending it to me. Sorry I smeared my tears all over it.”
He stared at it for a moment before reaching out and taking it. His eyes dipped to where I nonchalantly tried to hide my peaked nipples, and his fists tightened around the fabric.
“No problem.” The words came out sharp like a curse, and I frowned. Why did he look angry?
“Well, goodnight then.”
“Goodnight, Madison.”
I watched him walk off, aware of Layla’s demanding ass behind me. Shaking off Garrett’s sudden change in behavior, I turned to see her texting. “What’s up?”
She shot me a glare. “I told Rick I can’t come after all. I’m heading to pick up some wine. Get inside and sit your ass on the couch. You have tea to spill.”
Chapter Twelve
If there’s anything you shouldn’t do while tired, it’s play Battleship. Literally nothing knocks you out faster. I stared at the red and white markers, seeing double of everything as my eyesight went unfocused.
“I think you sank my last ship, but honestly I can’t make out the rows anymore so I’m not sure.”