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Her arms curled around her middle as her fingers played with the tiny balls of fleece on her sweater. As many times as she’d replayed that memory, she could never decide which part was worse: that he’d insulted her passion or that he couldn’t even come up with an actual word to describe her. The biggest problem was that Chad had delivered a one-two punch to her self- esteem, solidifying her fear that she couldn’t trust people and crushing her confidence as an artist.
“I dumped him that night, but it still hurt.”
Looking at the floor, she traced the crisscross of the tile lines with her eyes, breathing in for two seconds and out for four. Embarrassment swirled in her stomach like bile, ready to spew like word vomit. She wanted to forget she was here, sitting on this window bench, pouring out the most humiliating story of her life—and there were so many to choose from—like it was water flowing freely from a faucet.
What she wouldn’t give for the tiles to open up and let the floor swallow her whole. That would have been the best thing that could have happened.
But then something better did.
With a single squeeze of her hand, Eric grounded her. Reminded her he was here. That he hadn’t found her or her story pitiful. And though, seconds ago, she’d wished the opposite, she was glad for his company, for the way he clasped her hand, letting his thumb brush back and forth, lulling her to a peaceful place. One where the story she’d just told wasn’t one of mortification but something she could rise above.
“There’s a lot I could say about that…man,” he began, gritting out the words with an edge to his voice that sounded like sandpaper rubbing his vocal cords. She figured ‘man’ wasn’t his first choice of words, and that made her smile. It wasn’t hers either. “But this isn’t about him. It’s about you. And the truth is, finding someone worthy of you…it’s not going to be easy.”
She chuckled softly, looking down at her glitter-stained jeans and her unmanicured nails with paint dried and crusted along her cuticles. Her appearance was akin to her employment status these days—not much to talk about. “I’m a real prize, Eric.”
“You are.”
Her head snapped up, the conviction behind those two uttered words leaving her no other choice but to look at the man. She was met with eyes that had already trained themselves on her, and she somehow knew they’d been like that for longer than she’d realized.
“Maybe one of those prizes from an amusement park. The kind that a limb falls off of before you even get home.” She’d intended that as a joke, something to lighten the seriousness of whatever had settled in the salon since she’d mentioned Chad. Not that she minded the intensity in Eric’s eyes when she’d told him about that loser. The way he’d clenched his fists into tight balls at his side. A far cry from the, ‘We told you so,’she’d gotten from her parents.She’d always had people in her corner, but she’d had very few that were ready to fight for her.
“That’s not how you see yourself, is it?”
She blew out a long breath as she offered a single nod. “Well, I spent most my life being told what to do, how to act, what to stay away from. And when I finally followed my gut, I lost a guy and a job within a year and a half. The scoreboard isn’t exactly flashing the wordwinner, Eric.”
“Look at me,” he breathed, and she couldn’t help but obey. But when she’d looked to the side where he sat, he’d already vacated the bench and squatted in front of her. He grabbed both of her hands, and she tried not to give too much thought to thehow did he do that so fastpart and instead let herself melt into thegosh, I could hold his hands foreverone. “You’re it. You’re the prize at the tip-top of the arcade that everyone walks in and sees but knows they’re not leaving with. Frankly, they’re not good enough. Because no matter how hard they try, it’s just out of reach. At least that’s what I see: a woman brave enough to move on from adversity and find a fresh start in a new town. A woman strong enough to tell a guy to hit the bricks and then walk away with your head held high despite him doing the opposite. A woman kind enough to put aside her insecurity and let her creativity loose to help her family, even though it would have been so easy to say no.” He shifted in his crouched position. And was it her imagination, or was his face moving closer? “So, you see, Lucy…you’re not a prize. You’retheprize. Thegrandprize. People would line up around the block just for a chance to spend some time with you. Unless…” He released one of her hands to cup her cheek, his thumb catching on the center of her bottom lip.
“Unless?”
He blew out a sigh as his eyes dropped to the floor. “Unless they were too lost in their own shortcomings to even get in line. Or too lost in those amber eyes to even say more than hello at the coffeehouse. And the library. And the park.”
She took a deep breath. And then a second. Basically, she was just buying time at this point because what could she say after that? Sure, she’d heard lines, empty words to get her to believe in someone. To trust someone. And that was the issue that had always plagued her, wasn’t it? “I think it always just comes back to me trusting the wrong people.”
Eric’s thumb stilled, and his fingertips slid down her cheek, blazing a trail of fire in their path. Cupping her chin, he tipped it up so their eyes were level with one another. “You can trust me.” The words he breathed tickled her now parted lips, their meaning breathing life into a part of her that felt open for the first time in a long time. Because as much as she wanted to trust people, to see the best in them, her skepticism was a shadow that stalked her like a monster in the night.
But that monster was gone now, the shield she’d always held lowered to the ground. When she looked at Eric, she didn’t need it. She didn’t want it. Instead, she held onto the memory of him singing and dancing at the bowling alley because he cared about her feelings. The memory of him not only appreciating her mural at the fire station but applauding and encouraging her creativity—the complete opposite of what Chad had done. She was done believing the false narratives of others. Nothing was holding her back anymore.
She leaned forward, ever so slightly, feeling the tiniest pull from the hand still settled on her cheek. Closing her eyes, she inched toward what she wanted, what she suspected she’d always wanted since the first time she’d seen him. And she’d almost had it.
Aaaaaaaaaaah!
Lucy’s eyes sprang open to the sight of Eric back on his butt, rubbing the lower part of his leg. Relief that he wasn’t horrified at the prospect of kissing her was short-lived when she realized he was in pain.
“Are you okay?” she asked, crouching next to him. Each time he touched his leg, he winced.
“Yeah…just a calf cramp.”
“Ugh, those are the worst. They always come at the worst time.”
Through squinted eyes, he looked at her as he chuckled and then groaned. “You’re not kidding about that.”
Okay, so he’d wanted to kiss her, right? Is that what he meant by bad timing? Gosh, she hoped so. She would have smiled if Eric didn’t look like he needed to be tranquilized. “Is there anything I can do?” She was no physical therapist, but even she could rub a leg. And she certainly wouldn’t mind touching him—to make him feel better, of course. And maybe for other reasons too.
“I’ll be fine. It’s getting better already. I just stayed crouched for too long. Sometimes I forget that about my human legs.”
“Your what?”
His hand stilled on his calf, and the rest of his body froze like someone had hit thepausebutton. “My legs…they’re just human. And after leg day yesterday…phew! These kinds of things happen,” he rambled as his face got redder and redder, probably from the pain, but also…was he embarrassed about his physique? About being sore after a trip to the gym? That happened to everyone—at least that was what she’d heard. No need to bring up that the most exercise she’d gotten in the past month was chasing that pumpkin down the hill.
