Christmas Home (The Coming Home #6)

19. Ruther

nineteen

Ruther

D isappointed, yes, very much so. I guess I had visions of Clyde jumping across the table and into my arms while telling me how much he wanted me. That’s not how our meal went, but I still enjoyed myself and hoped he felt the same.

It’s been too long since I’ve tried to date , I thought, and began my nervous talking when things felt awkward. Not that he’d made me feel that way. In fact, he’d been kind about it, and I could sense some hard scrapes must be behind his caution.

Of course, I knew Clyde had seen my burn scars when my sock had come off in the exam room. Years of therapy had helped me not be quite as fearful that everyone I met would be turned off by the sight. But not even therapy had completely gotten rid of my trepidation. I wondered if maybe my scars were what drove him away from wanting to spend a quiet evening with me.

I shook the thought off. Therapy had also taught me that letting myself go down that rabbit hole meant I didn’t give anyone a chance before I chased them off. My therapist had said in no uncertain terms, though not unkindly, that fear would prevent me from opening myself up to a long-term relationship, and that’d proven true so far.

If I had been in New York, I’d have scheduled a massage with my bodywork therapist. He was good at working my body and helping me feel what it was like to have someone touch me without being repulsed. But that wasn’t an option, so I needed to let the work I’d done for the past three decades kick in and keep me from falling apart.

“So, about that wine and cheese, perhaps we could still do that along with Corey? He loved the local wine, and it’d be a chance for you two to get to know each other a bit more.”

Clyde nodded. “That seems fair, and Corey seems nice enough. I’m off next Monday. Will that work?”

I couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, that’s perfect.”

We finished eating, and Clyde rushed off to take our plates back and buss the table himself before he said his goodbyes to everyone.

“Can I walk you home?” I asked without thinking.

Clyde hesitated. “You’re staying at the hotel, right? The nice one on the edge of town?”

I shook my head, afraid I’d just overstepped our agreement. “Close to that. I’m actually staying in a condo that’s next to the hotel.”

“I’ve got to go by there to get to my…well, lesser motel,” he said, smiling at his joke. “I’ll walk you home, then make my way to mine. Deal?”

I shook his hand to solidify our deal, and we walked out of the café. The sun had begun to set, and that magical twilight time had crept in. If Clyde hadn’t nixed all notions of anything happening between us, I’d have said it was an ideal time for a romantic stroll.

I loved how the little town sounded as it was closing down for the evening. Calls from folks to one another echoed as the sounds of Southern insects chirped in the background. It really was a unique place. I just wished I didn’t think of it as a prelude to a horror movie.

I hadn’t been lying when I told Clyde I wanted to see Crawford City through his eyes. He said he felt safer here than he had anywhere else. I had never felt as unsafe as I did here. That didn’t mean I couldn’t recognize the tranquility or know my reactions were misplaced. My adult brain knew my childhood traumas were just that, but looking at things logically had never factored into how I felt about this town.

If Clyde’s perspective could help me settle the fears, even slightly, it was an improvement. Something years and years of therapy hadn’t been able to do.

I looked over at him as we meandered toward the condo. “You’re quiet.”

“I’m tired,” he said, laughing. “I love what I do, but it’s a lot of work. At thirty-four, I shouldn’t be turning in with the chickens, but damn, that’s my life.”

“I don’t know, you do seem to run the entire time you’re at the restaurant—not that I was watching or anything,” I said, causing him to laugh again.

“Sure,” he said and companionably elbowed me.

“Well, this is me,” I said as we approached the front of the condo, a bit too soon for my liking.

“Have a good night, Ruther, and I’ll see you at the café tomorrow?”

“At nine, you said.”

He nodded. “Bring your chaperone,” he said, teasing, and turned to disappear around the corner.

“Chaperone indeed,” I said to myself and entered the building, anxious to tell Corey his new designation. On second thought, I’d probably cause myself all kinds of grief telling him that.