Initially she handled Zeb and his crew banging around the Victorian by never leaving her room. She spent all day locked in there with a dresser in front of the door until one night when I was supposed to get home early to look at paint samples with Zeb but was running late. When I finally got there, I was stunned to find the bearded giant and the fragile flower with their heads bent together while they looked at paint samples in my torn-apart kitchen. I was so stunned that when Zeb mentioned that Poppy really liked an unusual shade of reddish orange for the walls, I blindly agreed to the choice, even though neutral and serene was much more my personal style.
After the shocking splash of color made it onto the walls I was surprised at how much I loved it. It took me a few days beyond that to realize it was the same shade as a field of poppies, and then I loved it even more. When Zeb left, I tenderly prodded Poppy about how the big man had coaxed her out of her fortress.
It was simple really. He told her he needed a woman’s opinion. He wanted to make sure he was in the right wheelhouse and gave her the choice and the control. If I hadn’t already wanted to kiss him, his simple understanding of how Poppy needed to take back the reins of her life would have made me want to jump him on the spot.
Zeb Fuller was a nice guy. Ugh . . . a nice guy I couldn’t stop thinking about or picturing very naked. He had tattoos on either side of his neck and ones that peeked out of the collar of his shirt. He had ink that decorated the back of each hand and wild swirls and designs that covered every inch of both of his arms. I wanted to see what else marked his skin and then I wanted to drag my tongue across every single inch of it.
Poppy cleared her throat and walked over to get her own bottle of water out of the fridge. She leaned next to me on the island with its fancy marble top and sighed softly. Even the noises she made sounded like a fragile flower fighting to stay upright in the wind.
“I like Zeb. I was surprised that I did, but I really do. He reminds me of Rowdy and he didn’t look at me like I was broken. Not once. Eventually I’m going to have to leave this house, go back to work, and I know that means I have to stop thinking every man out there is going to hurt me. Zeb is huge; I mean, he’s just so BIG, but nothing about him is threatening or scary once you get to know him. I think he was good practice for me, and I love how the kitchen turned out. I would’ve died if it ended up looking terrible considering it was the first decision I’ve made on my own in a really long time.”
Rowdy was my younger brother, who I didn’t know existed until a year ago when my father died leaving his secrets printed in black and white in his will. Rowdy had grown up in entirely different circumstances than my own, with Poppy and her older sister, Salem. After some time and some tragedy, Rowdy and Salem had figured out they were always meant to be together, which meant he cared even more for Poppy and her current state of mind than he normally would. She was family and now that I’d found Rowdy, had dropped every part of my old life, and moved halfway across the country to get to know him, so was I. My father’s final stab in the back, his last cruel act of manipulation, had actually been the best and only gift he had ever given me.
I reached out an arm and wrapped it around her thin shoulders so I could give her a squeeze. Unlike her older sister, Poppy was missing any kind of curve or thickness on her frame. She was a waif and sometimes I thought she was going to disappear right before my eyes. I also wasn’t terribly surprised when she wiggled out of my grip. She wasn’t the biggest fan of touching even if it came from a safe place.
“I can call him back to . . . I don’t know, I’ll ask him to build a deck or a fence or something, if you want more practice.” I was only half kidding. I would love an excuse to have him back within ogling distance.
Poppy laughed and it was such a rare and precious sound it made my heart squeeze tight. I’d never had a roommate before, never shared my space with anyone so closely, or had anyone else to give my time to aside from my clients. I cherished the time I had with this young woman so much that I often wondered if Poppy was healing more than just herself on her journey to take her life back. I refused to acknowledge the scars and wounds etched deep in my psyche and that festered all over my soul from growing up in the care of my father. But occasionally Poppy would say something, or reach out and touch me, or my little brother would call just to check up on me, and old injuries I purposely ignored would tingle as they fought to knit themselves together despite my persistent denial that they existed.
“No, but thank you for the offer. Rowdy calls me every Thursday night when Salem goes out with her girlfriends and asks me to have dinner with him. I always say no because I panic at the thought of being alone with him and going out in public around all those other people, but I think next time he asks I know can say yes. I can do this.”
I nodded and tried not to seem overly excited. I didn’t want to pressure her in any way. “That will make him very happy and I think it’ll be good for both of you.” I nudged her with my elbow. “And if you need me to get off work early or want me to come because it’s overwhelming you, just say the word and I’ll make it happen.” Rowdy would understand if she needed me as a buffer. He always understood.