Page 22 of The Way We Were(wolf)

“Then what am I missing?”

“You have all your appendages.”

He was making a joke, right? But then why was his tone so terse? And while he wasn’t facing her, something about the way his shoulders camped out near his ears meant he was anything but jovial.

“Eric,” she began as she swung her legs off the side of the table, eliciting the tiniest squeak. But it was loud enough for Eric to hear and turn around.

“Don’t move,” he urged as he came to her. It was only when he was this close, breathing the same air as she was, that she noticed the darkness under his eyes and the redness that framed them. “Here, take a bite of this. It might make you feel better.”

She looked down at the pumpkin roll on a napkin, shaking in his trembling hand. For the last week, a fresh roll had magically appeared in the break room at the salon each day for everyone to enjoy. Is that where this piece had come from?

“Are you okay, Eric?”

“I should ask you that question.”

“I’m fine.” She brought a hand to his face, letting the stubble on his cheek prick her fingers. “But it doesn’t look like you are.”

“I’m…scared.”

“But there’s no reason to be.” She waved a hand up and down her body. “I’m fine. You said so yourself. You saved me.”

“Yeah,” he said with a chuckle that didn’t convey the slightest ounce of humor.“There are just some things I can’t fix.”

“What do you mean? Is this about earlier?”

She watched the bob of his throat as he swallowed, setting the pastry on the table. “Yeah.”

Great. She’d gone and tried to kiss him and made everything weird. “I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know what I was thinking.” Lies. She was thinking about how inviting his lips looked until the temptation won her over. Like his plump, pink mouth was an all-you-can-eat buffet she was dying to dig into just as he’d slapped a closed sign on it. Now, she was thinking how she could get the heck out of here before her face burst into flames.

“Me neither.”

Oh, dear. This was more painful than stabbing herself with pumpkin-cutting tools. In fact, slicing her finger again and passing out wouldn’t have been the worst idea, right? If she passed out, she could escape the awkwardness that blanketed the room like a dense fog that shrouded common sense.

She scooped up her purse, poised to make her escape. It was good luck she’d worn her running shoes tonight. She’d never actually used them for running before, but there was a first time for everything. The decorations could wait until tomorrow, even if she had to do the whole thing herself. And she’d probably have to because she’d never be able to look at Eric again without bile crawling up her throat. “I should probably go.”

“Wait.” His hand captured her wrist, light enough that she could escape if she wanted to. Except, she didn’t want to. No, what she wanted was to stare into his dark eyes, memorizing the tiny crinkles beside them, and use her fingers to smooth the worry lines creasing his forehead. If this was the last time they’d see each other, it was the only chance she’d have to commit every feature on his face to memory. “Why are you leaving?”

“I went and made everything all awkward. Trying to kiss you was a mistake.”

His head snapped to her, the sharp intake of breath echoing in the open space. “You thought that was what I was talking about?”

“Wasn’t it?”

He looked at the ceiling and blew out a breath before meeting her eyes once again. “Not at all. I was talking about the tiny hacksaw over there—that you shouldn’t have used it.”

“Oh,” she responded so softly he might not have heard it. “Is that why you were so scrunchy when I came to?”

He shook his head. “Scrunchy?”

“You know…disheveled, manic-eyed, a little angry-looking.” He’d mentioned before about having a secret. And while she never pried, perhaps he’d lost someone close to him, and this was bringing back memories. Or he’d been witness to something horrific as a child. She was just about to ask when he interrupted her thoughts.

“No. No.” He dropped her hand to run both of his through his hair as he turned from her. She wished she could have appreciated the way the muscles of his back tightened with the movement, expertly displayed through and around his white tank top. But she was more thrown than a beanbag at a cornhole game at seeing him like this. “I wasn’t angry.” He turned to face her. “Well, maybe I was angry at myself. Not you. Mostly, I think I was just…worried?”

“Really?” she asked, raising a brow. She’d thought as much when she’d first seen him, something that made her stomach flip because she was positive no one had ever looked at her like that. “You don’t sound so sure.”

“I’m not sure about a lot of things right now.” He twisted his lips as he looked at her. “Actually, that’s not true. I’m sure I wanted to kiss you—still do. I’ve actually wanted to kiss you for a long time.” He took a step toward her, and then another, each movement stealing a little more air from her lungs.

“Oh.” Her shoulders fell, and it was only then she realized how tense she’d been since she thought her coming on to him was as unwelcome as a trick-or-treater on November first.

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