Page 29 of Waiting for Tuesday

“You’re okay. Shhh…”

I wrapped my arms around my waist, trying to hide that part of me away. To shield the evidence of my pain. This was all I ever wanted, the thing I’d been dreaming of since I was eight years old. To own something that was mine. But every day I could feel it slipping, and I didn’t have it in me to hold on any longer. My body sagged, and he held me closer, harder, causing the vibrations in my limbs to sink into his.

I didn’t know why he was doing this. Or even why he was here. But most of all, I didn’t know why I was letting him. Things would be awkward in the morning, I knew that, but for some reason, I couldn’t pull away. I was weak and he was strong. I needed strength. I didn’t even care at what cost.

“You’re okay.”

I shook my head, feeling another tear slip into the corner of my mouth. “How do you know?” My voice was broken, hoarse. “Everything is falling apart.”

I pushed myself away, turning around so I could face him. The heaviness I saw in his eyes was not what I expected. My chin began to quiver, and I hugged myself with both arms. “Everything is falling apart.” I was repeating myself, but I needed to say it; I needed to yell it, but I didn’t.

He looked to the row of pieces on the ground, still organized in alphabetical order.

An ache of frustration rose in my chest and let out a sob. “Except that.” Tears rolled down my face. Fat tears of exhaustion and stress. But of relief too—relief from finally sharing my burden with someone else.

He stepped closer, brushing a thumb across my cheek. “You look tired. You should go home and get some sleep.”

I laughed, but the sound was hollow. “How do you know? How do you know what I need? You hardly know me.”

His face remained serious, and he looked into my eyes. “Because I see you.”

I held my breath, his words stilling me. I didn’t know if it was the gentle way he said it, or something else, but it made my heart constrict in my chest.

“Go home and get some sleep.”

I glanced at him and gestured to the roof, where water still dripped periodically onto the metal counter. “I can’t.”

He didn’t seem to listen and turned me around to face the exit. “I’ve got it. Go get some sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

He gave me another shove in the direction of the plastic divider, but this time I didn’t resist. I didn’t even stop by my office to grab my bag. I went to the car, somehow feeling lighter than I had in days. I wasn’t alone in this. John was there to help me.

I wasn’t alone.

Chapter THIRTEEN

Tuesday

* * *

It was still drizzlingwhen I got to work the next day, though I didn’t feel better. I felt worse. My throat was sore, and my whole body ached. I’d worked myself to breaking point and was finally sick.

I rested my head on the steering wheel, trying to convince myself to go inside. I was thankful for John last night, but now warmth flooded my cheeks at the thought of facing him again. He’d seen the part of me I hid from even my best friend, and now I had to go in there and pretend he hadn’t witnessed me having a nervous breakdown in the back room.

The door to my truck creaked open, resisting movement as much as my limbs. I hopped down from the cab, and moisture instantly seeped through my lambskin boots. I looked down to my feet and the deep puddle I now stood in. Fantastic. Fan-fucking-tastic.

Ignoring the squish in my step, I rushed toward the shop. Somehow feeling naked even though I wore my thickest sweats, the ones I wore during that time of the month when I wanted to hide from the world. Which was exactly what I wanted today. I wanted to stay home,read a romance novel, maybe make a batch of homemade bone broth to warm the chill that had invaded my bones. But a day off was a luxury I couldn't afford. At least not for another month or two.

To my relief, when I pulled open the door, the shop was empty. Metal buckets filled with water were littered across the floor, and the sound of hammers on the tile roof echoed through the barren room. I looked up at the ceiling, wondering how many men were up there working. My chest tightened with anxiety as dollar signs flashed through my thoughts. I had no idea what a new roof would cost, but whatever it was, I couldn’t afford it. I couldn’t afford anything extra at the moment.

I blew out a breath and pushed through the plastic sheet to the back room. I needed to take off my boots. I needed to find money I didn’t have. Even if it killed me.

My purse sat on the desk in my office, right where I’d left it.. I plopped down in my seat, pulled off one boot at a time, and set them upside down on the heating vent. I rubbed my fingers back and forth over my lips before pulling my wallet from the bag.

The American Express I’d never used sat inside. The sticker still on, still perfect, the line of credit untouched. I’d gotten it in case of emergencies. For things a normal person would go to their parents for. Like my truck breaking down, a broken bone, or God forbid, something more serious. But all I had was my hippie mom, with this biggest heart, but no sense of responsibility. Everyone knew I was the stable one in the family.

More pounding came from the ceiling, and I let my head sag to my shoulders. I needed to find out what this would all cost before I started to panic.

I pushed myself from my seat, opened the office door, and froze. There, on the other side of the room was the shelving unit. Light maple, beautiful, exactly like the picture on the box. I didn’t know why, but it took my breath away. Not only had he been my savior last night, but he’d also put my shelving unit together.

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