Page 22 of Defining Us

Time to be brave, Mallory. You owe it to him. Even more importantly, you owe it to yourself.

Full of determination for the first time in years, she opened the door and stepped out. The sprinkle of mist was so minor that she didn’t bother with his umbrella. In truth, the rain’s cleansing sensation only bolstered her faith as she marched toward the driver’s side of the truck.

Joel stared straight ahead, his hands still clutching the steering wheel. His brow tightened when she neared the window, implying he saw her in his periphery, but he closed his eyes to take a fortifying breath. Alarm weaved into his expression when he finally glanced over.

The door shot open, and he descended from the truck. “For Christ’s sake, don’t stand around in the rain.”

A soft smile swept over her face. “I kind of like it.”

Clouds darkened the sky above, but the never-ending storm inside her soul was clearing, a shimmer of sunlight befalling her for the first time in ages. The work was only beginning, and it would be a long and arduous process, but fear no longer imprisoned her.

“You can wait in the truck until I finish.” He moved past her, bound for the tow. “I don’t want you getting sick.”

“I’ve been sick for ages. But I think I’m finally starting to get better.”

It was pointless to hold on to the woman she’d once been, no reason to yearn for a triumphant return. The old Mallory was a mere memory at this point, and it was okay to finally let her rest. What mattered now was moving forward and how she used her past experiences to guide her toward a positive future. Toward a happy and healthy, brand-new her.

“And I don’t need a tow,” she said, fessing up to the scheme.

Joel stopped and placed one hand on the edge of the truck bed. The tables had turned, as now he couldn’t look at her. His stare remained on the rain-soaked gravel, and his throat worked with unsaid sentiments.

“I’m sorry I freaked out,” she whispered.

“You didn’t just freak out. Youcried.”

She winced, the consequences of her tears beginning to take root. He rubbed his hands against his jeans, and she instinctively reached out to thread their fingers together.

“You always do that,” she murmured, brushing her thumb against his skin.

A puff of defeated laughter left his lush lips. “Nervous habit.”

“I…I make you nervous?” she asked, bemused.

He returned that puzzlement with a raised eyebrow. “Mallory. You’re a librarian. You literally wore a tweed jacket once.”

“What’s wrong with my tweed jacket?”

“Fucking hell, nothing’s wrong with it. Made me hard as a goddamn rock, if you must know.” He massaged the bridge of his nose with two fingers, mortified in the most endearing way. “What I mean is…listen, you’re from the city. You wear tweed and corduroy and those shoes with the laces and the heels. You spent months ignoring me. Wouldn’t look me in the eye.”

Those words gripped her lungs, squeezing the air out of her as his point of view came into hyperfocus.

“Shit, I even saw you numerous times at the bakery. Tried to catch your eye when you worked there, but nothing,” he continued.

Mallory racked her brain, unable to recall any memory of Joel before the time she saw him in the library stacks and rushed in the other direction. But she rarely worked the register at the bakery, always delegated to the barista counter, and, on top of that, the fog of anguish she inhabited during that time had her unable to think straight most days.

“Then you started working at the library, and you literally ran away from me.” He laughed, the sound despondent, and his massive shoulders lifted into a shrug. “What the hell was I supposed to think?”

“Oh God,” she lamented, partaking in a true-blue facepalm. “That’s not at all—shit. When you put it like that, I sound like such a snob.”

“Figured someone like you wasn’t interested in a guy who spends his days covered in grease. And that Friday when I checked out a book, and you pulled away from me so fast…” He trailed off, swallowing thickly as he glanced down. “I started wiping my hands, and I never stopped.”

Understanding shredded her insides, and she wanted to scream at how foolish they’d both been. But, in actuality, it was a blessing they’d danced around each other for the past fewmonths. Mallory hadn’t been ready for him then, but she was now.

As such, she placed a soft kiss against his knuckles, silently communicating that his big, beautiful, callused hands were always fit to touch her. When his gaze lifted to meet hers, a stunning level of vulnerability shimmered in his eyes. Unsure how to give words to the swarm of emotions within her, she cradled their clasped hands against her heart. Droplets of rain trailed down his chiseled face as she held his stare and refused to let go.

“If you only knew how much I wanted these hands on me,” she eventually confessed.

His expression shifted from dejected to cautious. “Yeah?”

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