“I’ll be touching you. On purpose. In order to interrupt my compulsions to—” She was twisting her fingers, shifting her weight from side to side. “You don’t have to come. I can tell Dr. West that you had something come up.”
“No. I want to. I’ll be there. I want to help you.” My voice sounded sandpapery, likely due to guilt.
How could I forget about her? How could she be anywhere other than the forefront of my thoughts?
“Are you okay?” Her eyes narrowed just slightly and she tilted her chin up. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No,” I responded immediately, my hands coming to her arms. “No. You are amazing. Thank you for last night. Thank you for being an excellent driver.”
Some of the worry eased from her brow, but her tone was solemn. “Yesterday you said I was a sexy driver.”
“And you are.” I nodded, with enthusiasm, pulling her into a tight hug. After a moment’s hesitation, her arms came around me and squeezed.
She felt just right. Soft and strong, solid and real. She felt like an anchor in this new storm. Safety.
“You give the best hugs.” I felt her cheek curve with a smile.
I lowered my lips to her shoulder, kissed her on the spot I knew she liked. “Then we should hug forever.”
“Then how will we work?”
“We can work and hug at the same time.” I forced teasing into my voice, good humor I didn’t feel.
I needed this. I needed a touchstone. I needed normal. And somehow, so quickly, Shelly had become what I needed.
She huffed a laugh. “I’m sure your brothers will not mind. And it wouldn’t be at all difficult to work while hugging.”
I leaned away, smiling down at her. “Was that sarcasm of the playful variety?”
Shelly bit her bottom lip to disguise a smile, her eyes bright as she peered up at me.
Pulling her close again, I gave her a kiss. And then another, and another. And that was my mistake.
She caught my hand on the way to her breast. “Beau—”
“You feel so good. I love how you feel.” I dug my fingers into her backside.
“Wait.” She lifted her chin, turning her face from mine. “Beau, wait, stop.”
I did. I stopped. I lowered my forehead to her shoulder. Breathing hard, my head swimming with the feel of her body, the smell of her, the heat of her mouth.
Just let me drown in you, I wanted to beg.
Her nails combed through the hair on the back of my head, then threaded through my beard. She waited, petting me, giving my temple kisses.
“What’s going on?”
“I don’t know where to start.”
Her hands paused, likely due to the desolation of my tone. “We didn’t make new plans last night.”
“No, we didn’t.”
“What are you doing tonight?”
Squeezing my eyes shut, I sighed, hesitated, talked myself out of dark impulses.
It would be so easy, so easy, to lose myself in this beautiful, complex, compelling, remarkable woman. She didn’t deserve that. She didn’t deserve to be that for me. She wasn’t my escape. I needed to sort through my own shit, not take advantage or weigh her down with my troubles.
I was supposed to be helping her. She was the one with a diagnosis.
Straightening, releasing her, taking a step away, I rubbed my forehead. “Let’s see . . .” Twisting back to my locker, I tried to parse through my disordered mind enough to concoct a believable excuse. “I woke up early this morning, to go fishing with Hank, and I reckon I won’t be good company tonight.” Technically true. “How about tomorrow? Or Friday after the appointment?”
I felt the weight of her eyes on my profile. “Friday is fine,” she said, sounding faraway, distracted.
I nodded once, knowing I’d made the right choice even as my chest constricted, making it near impossible to breathe.
By some miracle, I managed a small smile. But I couldn’t look at her as I said, “Great. Let’s get to work.”
* * *
I made mistakes, thoughtless ones, all day Wednesday.
Like using SAE 5W-30 motor oil for a change when I should have used SAE 10W-30. Or when I stripped a bolt during a routine tire change and had to use a kit to remove it. Then I disregarded the torque spec, didn’t pay attention to the switch direction, and the tire fell off.
Each time I blundered, Shelly was there, stepping in, helping me to fix the issue.
“Sorry,” I’d murmur, “and thank you.”
“You are welcome,” she’d say. But that soon became, “I’ll do it for you.”
When she wasn’t straightening my messes, I felt her eyes on me. Each time I looked up to find her staring, her glare would intensify, like she was trying to both read my thoughts and communicate hers at the same time.
I couldn’t see clearly, I couldn’t read Shelly because I couldn’t read myself. I was distracted.
Complicating matters, I couldn’t quite make eye contact with Duane—so I avoided him—and Hank was calling me non-stop. He left a voice message each time. Eventually, I turned off my phone completely. I wasn’t ready to deal with him. I couldn’t even think about him, not with so much going on. His tricking me was way, way, way down on the list of my worries right now.
Where does the good come from? turned into, Maybe there’s more to Christine than meets the eye. Maybe there’s some good in her, which had me wondering, What was her childhood like? Maybe there’s an explanation for her choices. Maybe I should give her the benefit of the doubt.
But every time I came to that conclusion, I remembered how she’d stood by while Razor Dennings threatened to cut on Duane last fall.
There was no excuse for that. There was no explaining away letting someone do that to your child.
Since I was running behind all day, I finished work much later than anticipated. Cletus was scheduled to close up and Shelly hadn’t left yet, but I wasn’t in the mood to talk to anybody.
When I was finally done with my last job, I marched upstairs to grab my stuff. As soon as I opened my locker, I spotted the paper Shelly had given me earlier in the day.
I took it. I opened it. It was entitled, Exposure Response Prevention Therapy for OCD. I also saw Dr. West had written her name and number on the paper with instructions to call her prior to the appointment on Friday.
Curious, and glad for the distraction, I read the whole paper on the short walk to one of the shop’s loaner cars. The GTO was still at Shelly’s and I didn’t want to wait around for Cletus to finish, so a loaner would do fine for me.
“Beau!”
I glanced up from the paper, turning over my shoulder to find Shelly jogging toward me.
“Hey.”
Her gaze flickered between me and the paper. “Are you leaving? Do you want me to drive you to my place so you can pick up your car?”
“No, thanks. I’ll take one of the loaners.”
“Okay.” She nodded, glancing at the POS car behind me. “Are you sure? I don’t mind. I’ll just be a minute.”
“It’s fine.”
“Are you fine?”
We traded stares, and in the moment I almost told her. I almost told her about the missile that had detonated on my life earlier in the day.
Don’t burden her with this.