The Hero - Robyn Carr Page 0,89
and she was almost to the base of the stairs before he could see it was a covered pot that she held. She stood at the bottom of the stairs, looked up at him, then began the climb. When she got to the top she sat down, put the pot in the middle of the table and asked, “How are you feeling?”
“Plugged up,” he said. It wasn’t a complete lie, since he was starting to understand that he was emotionally plugged up. Devon had scared him and he had freaked out.
“Have you taken anything?”
“Advil,” he lied. “I probably need a decongestant. What’s that?”
“I made you chicken soup. By now I’m sure it’s not hot, but Rawley will be glad to warm it up for you. Spencer, I’m sorry.”
He took a deep breath. He leaned forward. “No, I’m sorry. Your question—it took me by surprise, but the real surprise was in my head. And I’ve been thinking about it a lot. I want to say two things, two important things. First, whether we’re a couple or not, I will take responsibility for Mercy. I will be sure she’s safe and cared for and loved, no matter what. I promise. I give you my word, and my word is good. And the second thing—when you asked me that, it really hit me just how serious our relationship is and how fast it became serious. Devon, I love you, I can’t help it. But I just buried my wife last spring. I buried my parents last summer. I need a few days to think about things, to be sure I’m not just desperate for some stability, for an answer to some of the aches and pains the past couple of years have given me. I don’t want to rush into anything. I don’t want to rush you. I just want to think about this. For a split second, I felt ambushed.”
She flinched as if she’d been slapped. “But I tried to discourage you!”
“You did. I didn’t realize I might be moving too fast. My feelings haven’t changed. Give me a little time.”
She tapped the pot. “This isn’t going to cure what you’ve got.”
“I know.”
“Here’s what I’m going to do,” she said. “I’m going home. Don’t call me unless you think you know what you want. Because I’m doing this exactly one time.” Then she stood, ran down the stairs and across the beach.
He watched her go and asked himself if he was just some kind of fool or a man being smart. It was reasonable, wasn’t it? They’d met in June. It was September. A few months. When she was out of sight, he sighed and turned his head.
Cooper stood in the doorway from the bar. His arms were crossed over his chest and his heavy eyebrows were furrowed. “What the fuck was that?” he asked.
“If you’re going to eavesdrop, at least pay attention,” Spencer said.
“I was paying attention! You brought your grumpy self out here, claiming to have the start of the flu, but what you were having was idiocy. You’ve been sniffing after that pretty little thing for months! Did you really just cut her loose and tell her you needed space?”
“Cooper, I’m warning you—stay out of this. We’ll sort it out in a couple of days....”
“When men say they need to think, that they need space, women know what they mean. When I was a teenager or idiot guy in my twenties, I thought I was getting one over on them, but they always knew—it was an excuse because I couldn’t make a commitment. You’re such a jackass.”
“Fuck you! I’m committed all over the place! I was with Bridget every day while she was dying! I’ll be Austin’s father till he’s old and gray even though he’s got your DNA! I took care of my parents the best I could! I’m a teacher, a coach, a friend! I don’t take this shit lightly!”
“Was one more commitment, the one that actually feels the best, just too much for little you?” Cooper asked. “Because she’s already got a heap of worries and struggles and I think you probably just broke the hell out of her heart.”
“I’ll fix that up,” he said sulkily. “But right now I think I’m getting the flu!”
“Flu of the brain, that’s what. If you don’t run after her right now and beg for another chance, you’re not getting any sympathy from me when you’re too late.”
“I don’t need your sympathy. I also don’t need your advice. It’s not