Page 30 of Stuck with Mr. Grump

He’s right. I’d offer to go the other direction out of spite, but that would mean walking straight into the woods. I inwardly groan. Why does this keep happening to me?

A couple seconds pass and I keep glaring at him without saying a word.

“Are you going to say anything or…?”

“Let’s just go,” I grumble.

Without further ado, we set off down the path leading back to civilization. The walk back is quiet for a total of five seconds before he speaks.

“What were you thinking about back there?”

“You know, you’re really chatty tonight for some reason,” I say in frustration. “Can we not speak?”

“No. Tell me what you were thinking about when you were sitting on that bench. You looked…” He hesitates. “Sad.”

Sad is an understatement. I was considering running away and shutting myself off from the rest of the world.

“How about you? Are you okay?”

Anyone running for forty-five minutes this late at night must be going through something rough.

“Must you always counter a question with a question?” he asks, frustration tinging his tone.

“I call it the law of give and take, actually. If you answer me honestly, then maybe I’ll consider answering you, too. Sweet deal, isn’t it?”

He looks like he’d rather chew a metal can than open up to me. Which is why I want it even more.

“Come on, Sterling Harrington,” I prod.

“I’m really starting to hate being called that,” he says on a huff. “There. That’s an answer. Is that acceptable enough?”

I nod slowly, a little awed that he actually confessed that to me. But now I don’t know what to say.

“You don’t have to feel like that though. I’m sure you’re just as?—”

“Save it, Ms. Cameron. I didn’t tell you so we could offer me sympathy. I’d rather not talk about emotions I am or am not feeling.”

“It’s okay to do that, though,” I point out. “You’re not a tin man, you’re human. You’re allowed to feel anything you want. Life’s too short to keep our emotions at bay.”

His eyes meet mine at that, the intensity in them causing my heart to race. I’m starting to think sunglasses should be my new modus operandi anytime I’m around this man.

Those damn green eyes.

I look away, unwilling to get sucked into the wonder that is Sterling Harrington. He seems to realize how long we’ve been staring at each other as well. There’s awkward silence for like a minute before he breaks it.

“Your turn. Why did you come all the way out here? And why did you look so sad?”

I inhale softly, considering the implications of telling him something so raw. But he also just confessed something that couldn’t have been easy for him to say to me, so turnabout’s fair play.

“I broke a glass cup,” I finally decide to say, my tone low. “It was triggering.”

Sterling tenses. “What did it trigger?”

“Unpleasant memories. Memories I want to stay buried.”

He doesn’t say anything for several seconds. Finally, he sighs softly.

“I thought you said it was bad to keep things like that at bay.”

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