Page 99 of Receiving His Mercy
“Caren,” he said warningly. “No lies between us.”
“A few bags,” she said. “A day.” She winced.
“Shit, baby. You should have told me. I would have done something to help.” He ran his fingers through his short hair. “Except I’m the trigger, aren’t I?”
“It wasn’t just you,” she protested.
“But I was part of it. I shouldn’t have given you space. That’s where I went wrong. I should have been here the same day that you left my place, demanding that you see me.”
“Umm. I don’t know that?—”
“That was where I went wrong.” Travis nodded. “So from now on, I give you no space.”
Her eyes grew wide in surprise. What the bloody hell was happening here?
“Travis, this isn’t all on you,” she said.
“You store food when you get stressed,” he murmured, not really listening to her. “Because you worry about food runningout? Because when you grew up there wasn’t enough food in the cupboards.”
“Right,” she said quietly. “Because as a child I was constantly worried about whether there would be anything to eat. So when I could, I’d put food away in different places. I don’t have to hide it anymore, well, I guess in a way I do. I don’t want anyone else to see my pantry and drawers. I haven’t gone as far as hiding it in my bedroom, at least. But yeah, I stock up because my body is in fight or flight mode from stress and this is my way of preparing myself for the risk that I perceive is coming.”
Did that make sense?
He was scowling and grumbling something under his breath.
She took a deep breath. “Do you think I’m crazy?”
“What? Why would I think that?”
“You look upset.”
“With your fucking parents, never with you.” Moving toward her, he drew her into his chest and hugged her tight.
God.
He’d never know how much his hug meant. It was acceptance, warmth and safety all wrapped up in those big arms.
She leaned into him and he rested his chin on her head.
“That’s it, baby. Lean on me. Let me hold you up. I have you.”
But this wasn’t a good option for her. Because he wasn’t a permanent fixture in her life. And she had to cope on her own. To help herself.
So she forced herself to step back. He should know it all, right?
“I have other . . . coping mechanisms. Well, I’m not sure you’d call them that. I have other things that I do to cope with the stress.” She hugged herself, missing his arms. “I shower a lot and wash my clothes religiously. I never wear the same thing twice. In fact sometimes I change my clothes partway throughthe day even when they’re not dirty. Thankfully, that doesn’t extend to shoes.”
He stared at her a long moment before he started swearing. Wow. He knew a lot of swear words. And he used them very colorfully, too.
Walking away, he paced up and down her living room as she watched him.
Bollocks.
Maybe she shouldn’t have told him. Had she made a stupid mistake? He was going to know that she was a complete weirdo now. Although that was probably for the best.
He’d walk away now and she could get on with her life. Without him in it. Because this had only been a temporary thing anyway.
Whatever this was. Their friendship. Their . . . something else.
