Moving Forward, page 25
“Look, there are things that still set me off.” For the first time in years, some of Mark’s steady countenance seemed to crack. “I’m still dealing with my father’s disappointment in me and my girlfriend sending me a Dear John letter, okay? That’s the stuff that keeps me up at night. We’ve all got stuff we can’t seem to let go of.”
“I didn’t know you got a Dear John.”
“I know you didn’t, because I don’t like to talk about my past, either. But just because I haven’t shared doesn’t mean I’m not still working through it. If you’re dreaming of what happened in Iraq, it’s because bad stuff happened there. That’s what those VA counselors are for. So people like you and me can talk to people who know what it was like.”
“Mark, why aren’t you dreaming about all the crap that happened in the desert? We saw a lot of the same things.”
Mark gazed at him intently. “Who says I never do?” He turned and walked out.
Tebo, you’re a real jerk, thought Greg. Okay, he was a lot worse than that, but that was a start. Still frustrated with himself, he rubbed a hand over his face, catching sight of himself in the mirror.
His eyes were bloodshot. There was two days’ growth on his cheeks, not because he didn’t have time to shave but because he preferred the stubble to the feel of freshly shaved skin against the breathing apparatus. His hair was almost shaved off completely. Practically bald, the way he liked it.
He looked exactly like he had back in the army. Well, there were probably a few more lines around his eyes than there used to be, but other than that, he looked the same.
He looked at his reflection a little more intently. And finally saw what he always tried to ignore. His face was shuttered. There was a film of denial that didn’t use to be there.
He might have been able to fool the photographer for the calendar, but he hadn’t been fooling Mark or Anderson. Maybe he’d been avoiding his brothers and sisters because they wouldn’t have been fooled, either.
He’d been fooling only himself . . . and maybe Kristen.
The truth hit him hard. He’d made sure she knew how much she’d disappointed him by keeping secrets. Like he was some kind of open book.
No, like he had no faults.
The hurt look that had appeared in her eyes before she’d walked out the door flashed in his brain.
And then and there, he recognized the truth. He absolutely had stuff that he hadn’t been eager to share. He absolutely did have secrets.
And he knew at long last what he had to do. He was going to ask for some time off, drive over to the VA, and make an appointment in person.
He could hear Mark’s voice in his head. About damn time.
Chapter 33
Jen was still struggling and Dave still seemed intent on making sure she felt even worse than she already did. She couldn’t remember a day when he hadn’t belittled her for some reason. Although Sam had told her more than once that Dave didn’t mean anything personal, Jen felt differently.
And today? Well, today had been one of the worst days yet. He’d found fault with the way she did push-ups, disputed her answers when Sam quizzed her about the text she’d been studying, and then made her rewash all of the pans in the kitchen.
She couldn’t believe it. She’d almost told him what he could do with his criticism, but she’d felt everyone’s eyes on her.
She glanced at the clock; all she had to do was get through twenty more minutes and then she could go home and collapse.
Taking one last look at the tanker, she decided that it was as clean as it was going to get and started packing up the cleaning supplies.
“Where are you going?”
Picking up the rags she’d used to wipe down the truck, she straightened. “I’m done.”
“I still see streaks. It’s not good enough.”
She knew he was just trying to rile her up. “Sorry. I have to go anyway.”
“You’re going to leave it like this?”
She’d had enough. “Like what? That tanker truck is really clean. I’ve polished the chrome twice.”
“I don’t like your attitude. Just good enough isn’t good enough here. We save lives. You aren’t going to be able to get away with doing things halfway.”
“First of all, this is a tanker truck, not a human being. Secondly, I’ve done everything you’ve asked me to do, even when it was obvious that you were just making stuff up to mess with me.”
“What did you say?”
Jen couldn’t take it anymore. “What is your problem? Is it just me or all women or people my age? I get doing grunt work, but the way you treat me goes beyond that. Why do you hate me so much?”
Belatedly, she realized that Chip and Mark were standing inside the door and were listening. Great. She was probably going to get let go, but she needed some answers.
“I don’t hate you.”
“It sure seems like you do.”
“What are you going to do? Go tell on me to Samantha? To the captain? Oh, I know, complain about me to your brother?”
Mark stepped forward. “Seriously, Dave. Since I said my piece to you days ago, you haven’t let up for a minute.”
“Don’t you see it?”
Mark’s eyebrows lifted. “See what?”
“See that something’s going to happen to her. She’s too young. She’s going to get hurt and it’ll be on us.”
And just like that, all of the animosity and anger she’d been holding on to slid away.
Jen felt herself relax.
“You really are worried sick about Jen getting hurt, aren’t you?” Greg asked.
“Well, yeah. Aren’t you? And you, Mark?”
“Of course, but I’m just as concerned about helping her get hired on.”
“Why?”
“This girl is scrappy,” Greg said. “Sure, she doesn’t know a lot, but I didn’t know much, either—and I came out of the military.”
“I just don’t like her being here. We shouldn’t have to be responsible if something happens.”
“This is about when you were in Denver, isn’t it?” Mark asked. “The young recruit who got injured and you almost lost that mom and her son.”
“He didn’t just get injured. His leg was so badly burned he still isn’t the same. I should’ve known better than to let him get in the thick of things.”
“I think your problem with Jen is more about you than her performance or her inexperience,” Greg said. “I think you’ve been carrying that pain around with you all this time.”
“Like you’d know anything about that.”
“Actually, I would,” Greg said. “You all know about the nightmares I’ve been dealing with . . . but there’s more to it.” He cleared his throat. “Sometimes, even the sirens set me off. Sometimes, I don’t know if I’m going to be able to do my job.” He looked down at his feet. “Thanks to Mark, I started going to a therapist again for my PTSD.
“It was suggested that I continue to see someone after I got out of the service, but I ignored that advice. I didn’t want everyone to realize how weak I was.”
“What are you talking about, Tebo?” Sam said softly. “No one would ever consider you weak.”
“I know. It was a mistake. It was a real mistake to pretend I don’t have any crap that I’m covering up.” He gave Jen’s shoulder a shake. “Just like it’s wrong of you to be so worried about our little Mighty Mouse that you can’t give her a chance to prove herself.”
Dave frowned. “And you really think this Mighty Mouse is going to be able to do that one day?”
“Watch me,” Jen said with as much confidence as she could muster. No one had actually said that she was going to become a firefighter one day, but they’d given her something better than assurances. They’d given her their belief that it was possible.
“Come on in, Oringer. We’ll have a talk,” Captain DeWitt said.
“Yes, sir.” Dave took a step forward, then turned and looked at Jen. “All this time I was saying ‘no offense,’ I knew it was offending you. But . . . I promise, it really wasn’t about you. I apologize. I shouldn’t have been such a jerk.”
A shiver coursed through her. “Thank you.”
When he disappeared, Greg said, “You okay?”
“Yeah. Well, I mean, except for one thing.”
“What?”
“Mighty Mouse?”
He grinned. “Sorry, but it fits. You are a little thing and you are strong.”
“Hmm.”
“Hey, you don’t get to choose your nickname; your nickname chooses you,” Mark said. “I promise, it could be worse.”
“Yeah. I guess it could.”
“You out of here now?”
She nodded. “Are you sure I’m not in trouble? I feel bad for Dave but I wasn’t going to take his crap indefinitely.”
“You took it long enough.” Greg rubbed his hand over his cheek. “I probably should’ve stepped in earlier . . . I just didn’t want to make his attitude worse.”
“I understand.” Weighing her words carefully, she added, “I didn’t expect becoming a firefighter would be easy and I don’t know if I have what it takes to succeed.”
“You do,” Mark said.
She smiled at him. “I hope you’re right. And . . . well, every day I’m here I want it more. I don’t want everyone to take it easy on me. I want to be good enough to feel like I am good enough.”
“Well said, Mouse. If you keep believing that, you’re going to be just fine.”
* * *
• • •
When Ryan picked her up a couple of minutes later, he smiled. “Something about you seems different. What happened?”
“There was a big showdown between Dave and me . . . and the whole squad.”
“No way.”
“It was intense, but I think things are going to be better from here on out.”
“I hope so,” he said as he turned the car toward his house. “My mom is still counting on you eating supper with us tonight. Are you still good with that?”
“Of course.”
“I have to warn you, it’s tuna casserole night.”
“Your mom already texted me about that.”
“Yeah?” He looked wary but hopeful.
“Yeah.” She smiled, thinking about how many things were better now—with him, and with her family, too.
To Jen’s relief, her moving out seemed to be exactly what their mom had needed. She’d returned to grief counseling and acted ready to start living again.
Ryan had moved down to Pueblo and was living in a dorm and working out with the team. He’d been experiencing his own share of hazing from the upperclassmen, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle. Luckily, because he was so close, he was able to come home every Monday to have supper and spend the night. She’d started joining his family for supper and then hanging out with him until he took her back to her brother’s late at night.
She and Mrs. Halstead had gotten close. So close that Ryan sometimes joked that his mom looked forward to seeing Jen more than him on Monday nights.
“I told your mom that I love her tuna casserole,” she told Ryan.
“No one loves that.”
“I do.”
He parked his truck in the driveway. “You’re sweet, Jen. I . . . I’m really glad we started going out.”
“Me, too.”
Unfastening his seat belt, he leaned over and kissed her. “I missed you.”
“I missed you, too.”
“Things will get easier when football season is over.”
“By that time, I’ll be able to drive down to see you.”
His expression was soft as he brushed her hair back from her face. “You will . . . and you might even be an official probie by then.”
“One step at a time, right?”
Kissing her again, he nodded. “Right.”
Just as Ryan put his arms around her, the front door of his house opened. “We better get going,” said Jen. “Your family is waiting.”
Ryan sighed, but he didn’t look upset. Actually, he kind of looked like she felt inside. At peace. Like things were perfect.
Chapter 34
Kristen had come very close to firing Marty. His leaving a hose running for five hours was not only going to give her a whopper of a water bill but probably a hefty fine from the city.
Of course, accidents happened, which meant that she needed to give Marty some grace. No one was perfect, least of all her. However, now that Jen was working only two days a week, Kristen needed employees she could rely on. She didn’t know if Marty was one of those. Though he’d been with her the longest, he was also forgetful and nervous. There seemed to be one mishap after another whenever he was around.
She was beginning to think that she needed to draw a line between what she owed a longtime employee and what she owed herself—and her customers.
She stewed about what to do as she raked the gravel in the paths around the cacti and succulents at the back of the lot. She’d designed the display to help homeowners who were looking to conserve water. Unfortunately, only commercial customers seemed interested in zero-water landscaping.
Now the area served mostly as her getaway. It was private, quiet, and she could look busy while she decompressed. Boy, she needed that! Sure, she was hiding, but it was better than snapping at Marty.
“At last!” a familiar voice called out from the other end of the lot. “Marty assured me you were back here, but I was starting not to believe him.”
Turning, she was stunned to see Greg. He looked like he always did. Tan, fit, gorgeous, and casual. Today he was wearing a plain gray T-shirt that molded to his torso like it had been designed especially for him, and those darn snug-fitting faded jeans.
Kristen’s mouth went dry.
She couldn’t believe he was here. He’d been so upset with her the last time they’d been together. Then he’d texted her that he was taking some time off and would likely be out of touch for two weeks.
Kristen had guessed that had been his way of breaking things off with her.
She’d been sure of it when she hadn’t gotten a single phone call or text in seventeen days.
Not that she’d been counting.
So, the fact that he was here made no sense. Nothing had changed. She still couldn’t get pregnant and she had still kept it a secret from him. Those were two strikes against her.
Leaning on the rake, she continued to watch him approach. His hair was as short as ever but he was uncharacteristically clean-shaven. He looked good. Very sexy. Very . . . Mr. March.
She wished she hadn’t noticed.
Kristen debated what to do. She knew he wasn’t the type of man to make a scene at her workplace, so she wasn’t worried about that.
For a second, she considered going on the offensive and forcefully asking what he wanted . . . but there was something in his expression that was too—was it happy?—to ignore.
Besides, no matter what her pride was screaming, the rest of her was so excited to see Greg that she didn’t want anything to disturb this moment. She had missed him so much.
In the end, she decided to be cautious. If he’d come to fight again, she was going to shut it down. But maybe, just maybe, he was there to say something good.
Or maybe, if nothing else, she would enjoy seeing him again before they officially ended things.
And so she matched her tone to his positive expression. “You caught me,” she joked as she carefully leaned the rake against the side of the metal shed. “I come out here when I need a minute to get myself together. Believe it or not, this isn’t a very popular section of the garden center.”
“I can believe it.” He frowned at a large sequoia cactus. “It’s so stark compared to all the trees and flowers you have everywhere else.”
“I like to say that there’s something for everyone,” she quipped. “But, um, be careful of that saguaro. Those needles are no fun to pull out.”
He gave the cactus a wide berth. “Having to dodge giant cactuses to talk to you seems very appropriate.”
“That would be cacti. And I don’t know why you’d say that.”
“Because right now the situation between us is pretty prickly.”
His voice sounded rough.
Kristen wondered if it was from a fire he’d fought recently—or if he was as filled with emotion as she was. “At least you’re not calling me prickly,” she joked. “Because that would be bad.”
She mentally wrinkled her nose. This conversation felt like a caricature of the conversation that they should be having. The one where he apologized, she explained herself better, and they ultimately decided to either reconcile . . . or end things for good.
By the time he reached her side, she knew she had to put everything out in the open. As much as she wanted things to be like they used to be between them, she needed to guard her heart. “What do you want, Greg?”
“I want to talk to you.”
“About what?” she replied.
“You know what. About the conversation we had. About the things you said and how I reacted. About how I feel about you.”
His words were everything she wanted to hear, but so painful. Did she want to once again see the disappointment in his eyes when they talked about the way she’d kept secrets from him? No. No, she did not. “I’d rather not discuss this now.”
“Are you sure? No one’s around.”
“I need to go back to the store. Marty’s all alone.”
“I see.”
Well, she didn’t see. “Greg, why are you here? Why didn’t you just call?”
“I can’t say what I need to say over the phone.”
She sighed. “Greg, nothing’s changed. I still can’t have a baby and I still can’t change the past.”
“Maybe I don’t want you to change.”
“I didn’t know you got a Dear John.”
“I know you didn’t, because I don’t like to talk about my past, either. But just because I haven’t shared doesn’t mean I’m not still working through it. If you’re dreaming of what happened in Iraq, it’s because bad stuff happened there. That’s what those VA counselors are for. So people like you and me can talk to people who know what it was like.”
“Mark, why aren’t you dreaming about all the crap that happened in the desert? We saw a lot of the same things.”
Mark gazed at him intently. “Who says I never do?” He turned and walked out.
Tebo, you’re a real jerk, thought Greg. Okay, he was a lot worse than that, but that was a start. Still frustrated with himself, he rubbed a hand over his face, catching sight of himself in the mirror.
His eyes were bloodshot. There was two days’ growth on his cheeks, not because he didn’t have time to shave but because he preferred the stubble to the feel of freshly shaved skin against the breathing apparatus. His hair was almost shaved off completely. Practically bald, the way he liked it.
He looked exactly like he had back in the army. Well, there were probably a few more lines around his eyes than there used to be, but other than that, he looked the same.
He looked at his reflection a little more intently. And finally saw what he always tried to ignore. His face was shuttered. There was a film of denial that didn’t use to be there.
He might have been able to fool the photographer for the calendar, but he hadn’t been fooling Mark or Anderson. Maybe he’d been avoiding his brothers and sisters because they wouldn’t have been fooled, either.
He’d been fooling only himself . . . and maybe Kristen.
The truth hit him hard. He’d made sure she knew how much she’d disappointed him by keeping secrets. Like he was some kind of open book.
No, like he had no faults.
The hurt look that had appeared in her eyes before she’d walked out the door flashed in his brain.
And then and there, he recognized the truth. He absolutely had stuff that he hadn’t been eager to share. He absolutely did have secrets.
And he knew at long last what he had to do. He was going to ask for some time off, drive over to the VA, and make an appointment in person.
He could hear Mark’s voice in his head. About damn time.
Chapter 33
Jen was still struggling and Dave still seemed intent on making sure she felt even worse than she already did. She couldn’t remember a day when he hadn’t belittled her for some reason. Although Sam had told her more than once that Dave didn’t mean anything personal, Jen felt differently.
And today? Well, today had been one of the worst days yet. He’d found fault with the way she did push-ups, disputed her answers when Sam quizzed her about the text she’d been studying, and then made her rewash all of the pans in the kitchen.
She couldn’t believe it. She’d almost told him what he could do with his criticism, but she’d felt everyone’s eyes on her.
She glanced at the clock; all she had to do was get through twenty more minutes and then she could go home and collapse.
Taking one last look at the tanker, she decided that it was as clean as it was going to get and started packing up the cleaning supplies.
“Where are you going?”
Picking up the rags she’d used to wipe down the truck, she straightened. “I’m done.”
“I still see streaks. It’s not good enough.”
She knew he was just trying to rile her up. “Sorry. I have to go anyway.”
“You’re going to leave it like this?”
She’d had enough. “Like what? That tanker truck is really clean. I’ve polished the chrome twice.”
“I don’t like your attitude. Just good enough isn’t good enough here. We save lives. You aren’t going to be able to get away with doing things halfway.”
“First of all, this is a tanker truck, not a human being. Secondly, I’ve done everything you’ve asked me to do, even when it was obvious that you were just making stuff up to mess with me.”
“What did you say?”
Jen couldn’t take it anymore. “What is your problem? Is it just me or all women or people my age? I get doing grunt work, but the way you treat me goes beyond that. Why do you hate me so much?”
Belatedly, she realized that Chip and Mark were standing inside the door and were listening. Great. She was probably going to get let go, but she needed some answers.
“I don’t hate you.”
“It sure seems like you do.”
“What are you going to do? Go tell on me to Samantha? To the captain? Oh, I know, complain about me to your brother?”
Mark stepped forward. “Seriously, Dave. Since I said my piece to you days ago, you haven’t let up for a minute.”
“Don’t you see it?”
Mark’s eyebrows lifted. “See what?”
“See that something’s going to happen to her. She’s too young. She’s going to get hurt and it’ll be on us.”
And just like that, all of the animosity and anger she’d been holding on to slid away.
Jen felt herself relax.
“You really are worried sick about Jen getting hurt, aren’t you?” Greg asked.
“Well, yeah. Aren’t you? And you, Mark?”
“Of course, but I’m just as concerned about helping her get hired on.”
“Why?”
“This girl is scrappy,” Greg said. “Sure, she doesn’t know a lot, but I didn’t know much, either—and I came out of the military.”
“I just don’t like her being here. We shouldn’t have to be responsible if something happens.”
“This is about when you were in Denver, isn’t it?” Mark asked. “The young recruit who got injured and you almost lost that mom and her son.”
“He didn’t just get injured. His leg was so badly burned he still isn’t the same. I should’ve known better than to let him get in the thick of things.”
“I think your problem with Jen is more about you than her performance or her inexperience,” Greg said. “I think you’ve been carrying that pain around with you all this time.”
“Like you’d know anything about that.”
“Actually, I would,” Greg said. “You all know about the nightmares I’ve been dealing with . . . but there’s more to it.” He cleared his throat. “Sometimes, even the sirens set me off. Sometimes, I don’t know if I’m going to be able to do my job.” He looked down at his feet. “Thanks to Mark, I started going to a therapist again for my PTSD.
“It was suggested that I continue to see someone after I got out of the service, but I ignored that advice. I didn’t want everyone to realize how weak I was.”
“What are you talking about, Tebo?” Sam said softly. “No one would ever consider you weak.”
“I know. It was a mistake. It was a real mistake to pretend I don’t have any crap that I’m covering up.” He gave Jen’s shoulder a shake. “Just like it’s wrong of you to be so worried about our little Mighty Mouse that you can’t give her a chance to prove herself.”
Dave frowned. “And you really think this Mighty Mouse is going to be able to do that one day?”
“Watch me,” Jen said with as much confidence as she could muster. No one had actually said that she was going to become a firefighter one day, but they’d given her something better than assurances. They’d given her their belief that it was possible.
“Come on in, Oringer. We’ll have a talk,” Captain DeWitt said.
“Yes, sir.” Dave took a step forward, then turned and looked at Jen. “All this time I was saying ‘no offense,’ I knew it was offending you. But . . . I promise, it really wasn’t about you. I apologize. I shouldn’t have been such a jerk.”
A shiver coursed through her. “Thank you.”
When he disappeared, Greg said, “You okay?”
“Yeah. Well, I mean, except for one thing.”
“What?”
“Mighty Mouse?”
He grinned. “Sorry, but it fits. You are a little thing and you are strong.”
“Hmm.”
“Hey, you don’t get to choose your nickname; your nickname chooses you,” Mark said. “I promise, it could be worse.”
“Yeah. I guess it could.”
“You out of here now?”
She nodded. “Are you sure I’m not in trouble? I feel bad for Dave but I wasn’t going to take his crap indefinitely.”
“You took it long enough.” Greg rubbed his hand over his cheek. “I probably should’ve stepped in earlier . . . I just didn’t want to make his attitude worse.”
“I understand.” Weighing her words carefully, she added, “I didn’t expect becoming a firefighter would be easy and I don’t know if I have what it takes to succeed.”
“You do,” Mark said.
She smiled at him. “I hope you’re right. And . . . well, every day I’m here I want it more. I don’t want everyone to take it easy on me. I want to be good enough to feel like I am good enough.”
“Well said, Mouse. If you keep believing that, you’re going to be just fine.”
* * *
• • •
When Ryan picked her up a couple of minutes later, he smiled. “Something about you seems different. What happened?”
“There was a big showdown between Dave and me . . . and the whole squad.”
“No way.”
“It was intense, but I think things are going to be better from here on out.”
“I hope so,” he said as he turned the car toward his house. “My mom is still counting on you eating supper with us tonight. Are you still good with that?”
“Of course.”
“I have to warn you, it’s tuna casserole night.”
“Your mom already texted me about that.”
“Yeah?” He looked wary but hopeful.
“Yeah.” She smiled, thinking about how many things were better now—with him, and with her family, too.
To Jen’s relief, her moving out seemed to be exactly what their mom had needed. She’d returned to grief counseling and acted ready to start living again.
Ryan had moved down to Pueblo and was living in a dorm and working out with the team. He’d been experiencing his own share of hazing from the upperclassmen, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle. Luckily, because he was so close, he was able to come home every Monday to have supper and spend the night. She’d started joining his family for supper and then hanging out with him until he took her back to her brother’s late at night.
She and Mrs. Halstead had gotten close. So close that Ryan sometimes joked that his mom looked forward to seeing Jen more than him on Monday nights.
“I told your mom that I love her tuna casserole,” she told Ryan.
“No one loves that.”
“I do.”
He parked his truck in the driveway. “You’re sweet, Jen. I . . . I’m really glad we started going out.”
“Me, too.”
Unfastening his seat belt, he leaned over and kissed her. “I missed you.”
“I missed you, too.”
“Things will get easier when football season is over.”
“By that time, I’ll be able to drive down to see you.”
His expression was soft as he brushed her hair back from her face. “You will . . . and you might even be an official probie by then.”
“One step at a time, right?”
Kissing her again, he nodded. “Right.”
Just as Ryan put his arms around her, the front door of his house opened. “We better get going,” said Jen. “Your family is waiting.”
Ryan sighed, but he didn’t look upset. Actually, he kind of looked like she felt inside. At peace. Like things were perfect.
Chapter 34
Kristen had come very close to firing Marty. His leaving a hose running for five hours was not only going to give her a whopper of a water bill but probably a hefty fine from the city.
Of course, accidents happened, which meant that she needed to give Marty some grace. No one was perfect, least of all her. However, now that Jen was working only two days a week, Kristen needed employees she could rely on. She didn’t know if Marty was one of those. Though he’d been with her the longest, he was also forgetful and nervous. There seemed to be one mishap after another whenever he was around.
She was beginning to think that she needed to draw a line between what she owed a longtime employee and what she owed herself—and her customers.
She stewed about what to do as she raked the gravel in the paths around the cacti and succulents at the back of the lot. She’d designed the display to help homeowners who were looking to conserve water. Unfortunately, only commercial customers seemed interested in zero-water landscaping.
Now the area served mostly as her getaway. It was private, quiet, and she could look busy while she decompressed. Boy, she needed that! Sure, she was hiding, but it was better than snapping at Marty.
“At last!” a familiar voice called out from the other end of the lot. “Marty assured me you were back here, but I was starting not to believe him.”
Turning, she was stunned to see Greg. He looked like he always did. Tan, fit, gorgeous, and casual. Today he was wearing a plain gray T-shirt that molded to his torso like it had been designed especially for him, and those darn snug-fitting faded jeans.
Kristen’s mouth went dry.
She couldn’t believe he was here. He’d been so upset with her the last time they’d been together. Then he’d texted her that he was taking some time off and would likely be out of touch for two weeks.
Kristen had guessed that had been his way of breaking things off with her.
She’d been sure of it when she hadn’t gotten a single phone call or text in seventeen days.
Not that she’d been counting.
So, the fact that he was here made no sense. Nothing had changed. She still couldn’t get pregnant and she had still kept it a secret from him. Those were two strikes against her.
Leaning on the rake, she continued to watch him approach. His hair was as short as ever but he was uncharacteristically clean-shaven. He looked good. Very sexy. Very . . . Mr. March.
She wished she hadn’t noticed.
Kristen debated what to do. She knew he wasn’t the type of man to make a scene at her workplace, so she wasn’t worried about that.
For a second, she considered going on the offensive and forcefully asking what he wanted . . . but there was something in his expression that was too—was it happy?—to ignore.
Besides, no matter what her pride was screaming, the rest of her was so excited to see Greg that she didn’t want anything to disturb this moment. She had missed him so much.
In the end, she decided to be cautious. If he’d come to fight again, she was going to shut it down. But maybe, just maybe, he was there to say something good.
Or maybe, if nothing else, she would enjoy seeing him again before they officially ended things.
And so she matched her tone to his positive expression. “You caught me,” she joked as she carefully leaned the rake against the side of the metal shed. “I come out here when I need a minute to get myself together. Believe it or not, this isn’t a very popular section of the garden center.”
“I can believe it.” He frowned at a large sequoia cactus. “It’s so stark compared to all the trees and flowers you have everywhere else.”
“I like to say that there’s something for everyone,” she quipped. “But, um, be careful of that saguaro. Those needles are no fun to pull out.”
He gave the cactus a wide berth. “Having to dodge giant cactuses to talk to you seems very appropriate.”
“That would be cacti. And I don’t know why you’d say that.”
“Because right now the situation between us is pretty prickly.”
His voice sounded rough.
Kristen wondered if it was from a fire he’d fought recently—or if he was as filled with emotion as she was. “At least you’re not calling me prickly,” she joked. “Because that would be bad.”
She mentally wrinkled her nose. This conversation felt like a caricature of the conversation that they should be having. The one where he apologized, she explained herself better, and they ultimately decided to either reconcile . . . or end things for good.
By the time he reached her side, she knew she had to put everything out in the open. As much as she wanted things to be like they used to be between them, she needed to guard her heart. “What do you want, Greg?”
“I want to talk to you.”
“About what?” she replied.
“You know what. About the conversation we had. About the things you said and how I reacted. About how I feel about you.”
His words were everything she wanted to hear, but so painful. Did she want to once again see the disappointment in his eyes when they talked about the way she’d kept secrets from him? No. No, she did not. “I’d rather not discuss this now.”
“Are you sure? No one’s around.”
“I need to go back to the store. Marty’s all alone.”
“I see.”
Well, she didn’t see. “Greg, why are you here? Why didn’t you just call?”
“I can’t say what I need to say over the phone.”
She sighed. “Greg, nothing’s changed. I still can’t have a baby and I still can’t change the past.”
“Maybe I don’t want you to change.”
