18. Baxter
CHAPTER 18
BAXTER
Present day…
She means everything to me. That's why I'm hiding away upstairs, painting and not engaging with her.
Yes, it seems idiotic, but that hug yesterday—that one simple hug—was enough to remind me why I have to keep my distance.
I'm still in love with her.
I've known this all along, but now that she's here, it's so much more potent. Watching her with Kai, seeing her interact with my friends. She may have changed some, but she's still Tammy at her core. And I love that woman.
Being around her is wonderful and heartbreakingly painful at the same time.
I want to grab her in my arms and beg her never to go back to Hudson. I want to promise her that I can take care of her and love her the way she deserves.
I want to tell her how I feel, but that's so unfair, right?
How can I dump that on her?
She's got enough to deal with and doesn't need my emotional angst on top of it all.
I have to stay strong and silent, just the way I did in high school.
Hudson captured her right from the start, and I didn't want to get in the way of her happiness. Her smiles around that guy were full beam. The look of adoration on her face every time he walked into a room. Being around them was torture, so it made keeping my distance a little more motivating. But I didn't just do it for me.
Hudson would have seen me as a threat. I could tell the second I met him that he was a territorial prick. But Tammy wanted him so badly, and I had to back off.
Maybe I backed away too far, I don't know.
I've never been an expert at relationships. Any kind. Talking is hard. Opening up and being vulnerable? I don't even know how to do that shit.
It's easier to stay closed off and mind my own business.
I did it in high school; I can do it again.
Tammy needs a safe place to stay while she figures out what to do about Hudson. I can give that to her. And I won't go messing with her head sharing everything I feel. She doesn't need that pressure.
And if I'm honest with myself, I doubt I'd ever be able to find the words.
I couldn't back then.
I didn't even know what to text her while I was sulking at my grandparents' place.
When I got back, I looked in the mirror and told my reflection that I needed to get the fuck over myself. I promised I would talk to Tammy as I drove her to school the next day. I was geared up. Terrified but willing.
Then she texted to say she was catching a ride with someone else.
I got to school, saw them flirting by her locker, and I knew it was the end of us.
There was no point in trying to say anything after that. So I backed off.
But now could be your second chance!
The voice in my head is urgent and desperate and… insane.
She's married.
She's come here for a safe place to lick her wounds, not finally find out that I'm so far gone for her that I've never even slept with another woman.
Dipping the roller in the paint tray, I practice the perfect technique YouTube taught me and come away with just the right amount of paint. I'm about to touch it to the wall when I hear a scampering outside the door.
Shit!
Whipping around, I'm seconds away from barking a few swift orders at Fezzik—Stop! Sit! Stay!
But instead I find myself staring at a curious face with pale bruises on his cheek and lip.
I wince, wondering how many times I have to apologize before I start to feel better.
His little fingers curl around the door handle.
"Fezzik still downstairs?" I gently ask.
He nods.
"You know not to let him past the gate, right?"
He nods again.
"I just don't want little puppy paws painting the hallways, you know?"
His big brown eyes stare me down, and I try to smile but give up with a sigh. Pointing at my cheek, I then point to his and ask, "Does it still hurt?"
Those little shoulders shrug, and I don't know what to say next, so I do the only thing I can think of.
Grabbing the spare roller, I hold it out to him. "Wanna help? I can show you how."
He tips his head, hesitating, until I crack a grin.
"There's no ice involved. I promise."
This gets his lips moving, and he gives me a cautious smile while creeping into the room.
"Okay. Here we go." With gentle prompting, I show him how to dip the roller and wipe off the excess paint. There's a strong chance that he'll screw up this wall, but I can just paint over it, right? We can spare a little so this guy can have some fun.
"And now we roll it on the wall. Like this." I hold his hand, guiding the roller up and down the flat surface with clean strokes.
He giggles, reminding me of his mama, then shows off his dimples.
"Good?"
He nods, more enthusiastically this time, and sets about painting the lowest part of the wall. I paint above him, enjoying the rhythmic sounds of our rolls and then smiling when Kai dips his roller again, forgetting to wipe off the excess and splattering a massive blob on the wall. He gasps and scrambles to fix it, desperately trying to right his wrong, and I can't do anything but laugh.
Sweeping my roller down, I catch the drips, then lightly paint his arm.
He spins around with a shocked gasp, and the sound that pops out of him next takes me back to my childhood in a heartbeat.
His laughter rings out loud and clear, his dimples on full display as he dances around the paint tray and tries to get me back.