Page 17 of Crazy In Love
“Does it?”
“No.” She takes another long, silly sniff of my coffee. “He worries, though. Like, alot.So I rarely complain, and the times I do, it’s usually about how hard he’s working. That’s when I tell him he needs to come home.”
“Devious.” I scan Chris’ yard without being entirely obvious about it. “He won’t hear ‘you’re working too hard.’ Instead, he’ll hear that you want him at home. At which point, he’ll fall into bed with you anyway.”
“It’s a system. He felt like his Vegas fight was only okay.”
“But he won.”
She snorts. “I know. Still, he thinks he could’ve done better, andnotfighting Conner makes him feel like he’s not the true champion. It’s like he’s worried we’ll go hungry if he only wins a fight by alittle bit.”
“As opposed to a clean knockout?”
“Right. Never mind the fact he owns the house outright, the gym has no debts, and his clientele is loyal. He could lose every fight, and everything would still be okay. But he’s Tommy Watkins.” Sad, she drops her gaze and sighs. “He always fed me, even when he was starving. Me leaving for ten years caused a lot of damage.”
“You can’t seriously think you were in the wrong for?—”
“No. I don’t.” She nibbles on her bottom lip, rolling it between her teeth. “But that doesn’t erase the things he thought and the ways he felt for all those years. He and Chris are caretakers, and even though Tommy was thrilled about this baby, it doesn’t stop him from freaking the hell out.”
“Which is why you asked me to come to Plainview.” I take back my coffee and knock her shoulder with mine. “Sure, you want me to help. Especially when the explosive poo arrives.”
She giggles.
“But mostly, you want that extra set of eyes and hands, so if Tommy’s losing his mind and the baby is crying and Franky is ridiculously dysregulated, you could call on me to pick up a couple of the pieces while you save Tommy from a menty-b.”
“A menty-b,” she snickers. “You always did have a skill for taking something serious and destroying its power. Mental breakdown is scary. Menty-b is…” She shrugs. “Meh.”
“Have you considered that Tommy isn’t the one you should worry about?” I don’t bother hiding my intentions this time. I cast my gaze toward Chris’ deserted yard and search for him in the shadows. “That dudeis Franky on steroids, Alana. But he’s a grown man with no clue how to emotionally regulate or calm the hell down. He’s all knotted up, scared to death of this unknown world you’re walking toward. And instead of being a healed, normal person who admits, ‘hey, I’m kinda out of my depth here, so can someone help?’he loses his mind trying to fit a square peg into a round hole.”
“Fox—”
“You and Tommy and Chris are theoldround hole. He was even able to jam Franky in there. But now, this baby… and me…” I exhale a soft laugh. “Jesus. He’d rather smack me with a rubber mallet than let me suggest a different, larger, potentially newer hole.”
“I told you how things were when we were younger, right? How we created this odd codependence and obsession with keeping each other safe?”
“Yeah. Child of trauma, abusive situation.” I tilt my head to the side and stretch my neck. “I know.”
“He’s terrified of being left behind. He’s grown now, and outside of all this, he’s brave and strong and entirely capable of living his life. But the baby scares him. The possibility that something will go wrong terrifies him. And the nagging fear that I’ll leave Plainview and go back to New York makes him sweat.”
“Because he’s in love with you?”
“Me?” She chokes out a quiet laugh. “Love, yes.In love, no. If I leave, then Tommy will follow. And obviously, Franky will come, too. I think this scenario scares him most of all, even though, really, if we ever moved, we’d take him with us anyway. Christian’s fear of rejection isalmostas toxic as yours.” Taunting, she peeks across and smirks. “You would curl into a ball and die. He would curl his fists and kill. It’s different.”
I tamp down on the bubbling anxiety that swells within my stomach. “Is he aware of how utterly mentally fucked up he is? There are therapists that can help with that sort of stuff.”
“He’s aware. But there’s no therapist on the planet who can help him.” She leans into me, setting her cheek on my shoulder. “He needs to be reminded that he’s loved, that’s all. He needs that unwavering reinforcement, since he was told every single day of his youth howunwantedandunlovedhe was.”
“Sounds needy.”
She clicks her tongue, which, in Alana code, means I’m about to cop an elbow to my ribs. “And then there’s you, dying for acceptance and silently begging for the same things he is. But not only don’t you stroll into townand make friends with the man not entirely different from you, but you’re out here actively throwing his insecurities in his face. You told him he was unneeded, Fox.”
“He told you I said that? What a snitch!”
“He didn’t tell me. But I suspected, and you just confirmed.” She turns her head and searches my eyes. “Don’t do that, okay?”
Busted. I grit my teeth.
“For me? Don’t say things like that to him. He’s not just any guy you get to play with, and poking at him is not the same as poking at Booker or Colin or anyone else we know. Christian isn’t needy in the way you think he is. But he’s fragile.” She lays her cheek on my shoulder once more. “He needs to be handled with care.”
