Remembering telling Dan that not so many days ago was the last straw. The tears became too many to contain, falling onto her cheeks. Unbreakable Mel, what a laugh. She was broken.
Even knowing she should fight him off, get in her truck and go, when Dan’s arms hesitantly wound around her, she didn’t push away, or stiffen—she leaned into him. She just wanted to lean for a little while. Was that so wrong?
She didn’t sob or wail—no, she wouldn’t let herself do that—but she didn’t fight the tears. She let them fall and soak into Dan’s T-shirt. She let Dan’s arms hold her close. It was odd to take comfort from a man she didn’t understand in the least. But he held her until she was done, and who had ever done that?
She couldn’t ever remember crying until she was spent. The few times she allowed herself to cry, it was usually a quick thing. Get it out and over with. She didn’t have time for long fits of self-pity.
But she had officially cried her eyes out. On Dan.
The embarrassment climbed deep, made it impossible to pull away from the hard, comforting safety of his chest. Because, if she pulled away, she’d have to face him.
She’d rather stay in the cocoon of warm, sturdy comfort that smelled like sawdust and pine. That felt like heaven.
Because she couldn’t remember the last time anyone had hugged her. Not since Dad’s hospital room. Caleb had hugged her then—they’d hugged each other, but that had been the last time.
She felt that loss acutely, so acutely she could almost tell herself she didn’t care who was offering it now. Strong arms holding the weight of her, holding the weight of everything.
How long had she wanted that? Too bad it was from the guy who was going to disappear in a few months.
Actually, that was good, because this way she couldn’t forget that this offering of…whatever…was a temporary thing. Not something she could depend on or get used to.
Dan would leave, like Mom had. Like Tyler had when she hadn’t been able to give him everything. It was an inevitability. She wasn’t cut out for…people’s love.
Which meant she couldn’t be hurt by it.
Comforting in a way, but problematic in another. Because if she knew it was temporary, if she knew she couldn’t be hurt by it, why would she resist it?
Oh, so dangerous to think such a thing. Dangerous enough that she pulled away from the hug and the comfort. From Dan.
Dan, who you don’t have to resist.
But she did. She didn’t know why; she only knew in some part of her that he was dangerous and needed to be resisted, no matter what that dark, quiet voice in the back of her head said.
“We should go unload your lumber,” she managed, her voice rusty.
“That sounds like a euphemism.” There was humor in his tone, but it was tempered with something. Something that made her chest ache.
Not pity. Pity was too gross of a word, and this wasn’t gross. It was sweet. Sympathy or commiseration or, God forbid, care.
“We have to work.”
But his hand reached out and touched her face, brushing tears off her cheeks. Dan stepped closer, like he was going to hug her again. She would stand firm against it this time, she would—
His hands cupped her jaw, green eyes fixed on her face. On her, the cool of his calloused palms a welcome relief from all the heat in her cheeks. From the crying, from the embarrassment.
“You know, the other day, when I said I wanted you to teach me to be such a hard-ass?” he asked.
“Yeah, you changing your mind?” She tried to step away, but his gentle hands tightened on her, keeping her in place.
“I didn’t even have a clue how deep it goes, how strong you are, and I thought you were pretty damn strong.”
She didn’t know what to do with words like that. Like he admired her, respected her.
She’d had respect before. Respect for her work was not a problem, but someone being impressed by her was…well, most people looked at her with half respect, half pity.
That feeling rushed into all the aching breaks in her armor, slipping through the cracks. Dangerous, she knew. She should not let anything he felt for her do anything, be anything. Except, she was weak. Vulnerable. And she wanted the danger, the hard edge of this wrong feeling, the wild heartbeat that came with him standing too close, his hands cupping her face, strong and sturdy like he could take on everything that was on her shoulders.
An illusion, and she’d never been one for believing in illusions, but she saw their appeal now. The appeal of losing herself in it, in him.
“Mel.”
She may have closed some of the distance between them, but she wasn’t the only one. She had promised herself to be strong, to resist, but Dan’s mouth on hers, his hands on her face, it was so much better than resisting.