Page 88 of Average Joe

“I suppose,” I grunted, irritated that another man had failed her.

There was more to be said on the subject, but another time perhaps. As much as I loved Marley’s fight, I was grateful for the open, honest, and friendly conversation.

While I scooped my second helping, Marley twisted her napkin, and after a long bit of silence, she whispered, “Thank you. For today.”

My mouth was full, but I managed, “You’re welcome.”

“I don’t like needing people.” Spine rod straight, she shifted in her chair.

“I picked up on that.”

A flimsy napkin bore the brunt of her nervous energy, and she dropped the twisted pulp on the table, drew a deep breath, and admitted, “It’s not easy for me. I like to be in control.”

“So nobody can disappoint you,” I stated. I could relate.

“I guess,” she mumbled, staring at her plate.

Pushing my food aside, I leaned forward, drawing her gaze. “I understand your dad did a number. Believe me, I get that. Who else hurt you, Marley?”

Brows raised, she released a slow breath. “Just every man who’s been in my life.”

“You seem friendly with Marco and Singleton.”

“They don’t count.”

So, she had selective walls constructed. “They’re men, and they’re in your life. Have they hurt you?”

Marley smirked. “Not yet.”

“Hmm.”

“Hmm, what?”

“You’re waiting for the other shoe to drop. You’re still waiting for me to hurt you.”

“I don’t know,” she said to my chest, then shook her head and met my eyes. “Yes, I suppose I am.”

“News flash.” Elbows to the table, I crossed my arms. “People hurt each other. Sometimes it’s intentional. Most of the time, it’s not.”

“You’re right.”

“I will never hurt you on purpose.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

“I’m trying, Joe.”

Marley was in a sharing mood and on a roll, so I pushed, but not before stretching my arms across the table and offering my palms. “Why have you never invited me inside your house?”

Head tilted, she considered her reply before sliding her delicate hands into mine. “Because that’s the one space in this world that’s mine and mine alone. The only place I feel safe.”

“That’s a great answer. But it’s bullshit.” I released her fingers and sat back, throwing my hands in the air. “You don’t wanna talk about whatever you’ve got to hide, that’s fine, but don’t lie to me, gorgeous. I’ve got thick skin. If you’re hung up over some guy who broke your heart, we’ll work around it.”

The flame was back, brightening the gold in her hazel beauties. “There’s nothing to work around.”

“No?” My stomach soured, but hell, relenting was not an option. “You cried for hours in my backyard over some man, drunk outta your gourd.”

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