Page 107 of The Spider & the Storm

My gaze lifted back to hers then as the fork hovered somewhere above the plate on its way to its destination. “I did.”

Her demeanor had changed. That comfortable, confident woman was gone, and, in her place, there was this small, timid creature, hunched over and unable to look me in the eye. This was the version I'd met at Blake's party, the one whose legs jittered and hands shook.

I saw myself in this side of her. The parts of me I tried to keep contained, the parts time had helped to stifle. But not everything died that easily, and I suspected that to be the same for her.

“I wasn't sure I wanted to tell you.”

“You don't have to,” I assured her, lowering my fork back to the plate, untouched.

She clenched her hand around her fork several times and pushed a chunk of red pepper around the plate. Her eyes never stopped watching it skate around between bits of egg.

“I've never told anyone other than Blake and Cee.”

“You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to,” I pressed further despite the flaming hot rage building beneath the surface of my skin and the urge to destroy whatever the hell could render her this terrified in a matter of minutes.

“But Iwantto tell you,” she said, her voice firm. “Because I see how hard it is for you to talk about yourself and your life. And I'm with you, Charlie—you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. But the thing is, I trust you. I don't even know why when I barely know you, but I do. Like …” She lifted her green eyes back to mine. “You ever just get a feeling about things? Like your intuition is doing the talking?”

I couldn't help but huff a sardonic laugh. “Oh, you have no idea.”

She barely bobbed her head. “Well, that's how I feel about you. Like somethingbiggeris pushing me toward you, and I'm not fighting it. So, I want you to know what happened to me, okay? And I'm not going to tell you because I want you to then spill your guts to me. I'm not, like, bargaining trauma for trauma … nothing like that. But if I tell you my story and you then wanna tell me yours, I'm here to listen.”

When she finished talking, the room fell silent, save for the ticking of my mom's wall clock. Stormy was offering a gift; it didn't take a genius to understand that. She was declaring her commitment to whatever thing we had going on. She was inviting me into her world, and logic told me that the least I could do was return the favor.

And truthfully, Iwantedto tell her. The weight I carried on my back was a heavy one, the type of load that hunched my shoulders and ached more with every passing year. But the thing that stopped me from baring my soul to her entirely right then and there at my kitchen table was this: not all nightmares were created equally. And while I knew with certainty—call it confidence, arrogance, whatever—that I could bear the weight of hers, I was too afraid that mine would keep her up at night.

So, I just nodded, unsure of what else to do or say that wouldn't chase her away or at the very least insult her.

“Um, so …” She diverted her gaze and glanced at the clock. “Oh, it's almost time for you to go.”

Her shoulders sagged with disappointment, like she wasn't ready for this morning to end so soon. And even though I might not have been ready to unveil the monsters hiding in the shadows, I wasn't sure I wanted to be without her just yet either.

So, as I once again lifted the fork to my mouth, I asked, “You wanna come to work with me?”

***

The sun was shining as the wind blew cold, and I gritted my teeth to the chill coursing through my bones as I held on to one side of the iron gate. But Stormy didn't seem to be bothered at all with her hands wrapped in the long sleeves of her brother-in-law's sweatshirt. She pushed the other side of the gate open and wasn't at all fazed as another gust of wind bit at our cheeks.

In the truck, I had instructed her on how to open and secure the gate, and now, I watched from the other side of the wide-mouthed driveway, making sure she followed my directions.

With the hood over her head, she crouched and flipped the drop rod into the ground just outside the tall stone wall surrounding the perimeter of the cemetery. I knew it wasn't a difficult task, and honestly, an untrained monkey could probably figure it out. Yet I couldn't stop one side of my mouth from lifting, feeling an odd sense of contentedness and pride at the sight of her.

She looked up, peering at me from beneath the shade of her hood. “Making sure I'm not fucking up?”

My lips spread in a grin as I dropped my chin and shook my head, both at her and myself. Then, I stuffed my wind-bitten hands into the pockets of my leather jacket and walked slowly across the driveway.

“What do you think?” she asked as I pretended to assess her handiwork. “Am I bridge-troll material?”

“Well …” I cocked my head, pursing my lips and making a show of this pretend critique. “You could use some practice, but …”

“Oh, shut up!” She laughed, rolling her eyes as she turned to walk back to the truck, her sneakers plodding against the asphalt. “You're just jealous because it's taken you years to perfect the art of gate opening. Me? One and done. I'm just that—”

“Top o' the mornin' to ya, Chuck!”

I was mid-laugh when I heard Ivan's enthusiastic greeting bellow over Stormy's teasing. Surprised, I turned to watch him climb out of his sedan, parallel parked on the side of the road. How I hadn't noticed him pull up, I didn't know, but then again, I'd always been known to become distracted by a woman I was seeing.

“Shit,” I grumbled as Ivan limped his way toward me.

I hadn't anticipated introducing Stormy to him or anyone … well, ever, let alone the morning after we'd slept together for the first time.

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