savoring it like it was already precious to her, and pulled out the single sheet of paper. Her eyes widened, and her mouth slipped ajar. Then, she folded the paper back up, her green eyes sparkling. “Charles … I can’t take this.”
I was already prepared for this. “Wrong answer. Your response should be … thank you.” What I had given her was a full ride to any nursing school, tuition paid. “You can go part-time. You can go to the university or the local community college. There’s no expiration to that. You said that you always wanted to finish nursing school.”
She opened the paper again, looking astonished, as though she couldn’t believe it. And maybe she wasn’t used to people taking care of her, being spoiled, but she’d better get used to it because I wasn’t holding back.
Her eyes met mine again. There was a hopeless glint in them, clear and compelling, and it had me smiling. “Charles …”
“Just say thank you,” I said, gently prodding her to accept it.
Her bottom lip quivered, and she nodded slowly before propelling herself into my arms. I was unprepared, my body tensing up.
Eventually, my arms folded around her waist, and I brought her into me, breathing her in, sighing against her neck because she fit perfectly in my arms. “You’re welcome.”
She laughed against my shoulder, and it warmed me from the inside out. If this was what she really wanted, I wondered if money was the only issue that had stopped her before.
“Why did you quit nursing school?”
It was the wrong question to ask because she stiffened in my arms. A moment later, she stepped back, her face unreadable, the joy I’d put there gone, as though it’d never happened.
I ground my teeth together. I’d meant it as such a simple question, but now, by her reaction, I needed to know more. “I know money must have been tight for you …” I was fishing because my regular up-front tactics would get me shut down.
She took a step back. “It wasn’t the money.” Her fingers were wrapped tightly around the envelope.
I closed my eyes and exhaled a long breath. And when I opened them, I couldn’t take it anymore. It was like I had no control anymore, too much of me was involved now. “It was just a question, but when you freeze like that, I know it’s not a simple answer.”
I dipped my head, getting directly into her line of sight. Her face scrunched, and she closed her eyes tightly, shaking her head, as though she was trying to shake off a memory.
“What happened, Becky?” I urged, wanting desperately to fix it for her.
Whatever it was, I would fix it. That was my job. I was the fixer, and I’d be damned if I couldn’t do it for her.
When she opened her eyes, they were resolute. “I can’t take this, Charles.” She placed the envelope on the kitchen counter.
I gripped her wrist, not letting her leave me just yet. She could only get so far in my house. “Stop. It’s yours, no strings attached.”
She jerked back and let out a shaky sigh. I could read all the emotions on her face, unshielded to me now. Raw, unfiltered pain fired behind her eyes, and all of me wanted to erase the distance between us and hold her and take it away.
“You say that … but there are. There are always strings attached, and in this instance, what you want … I can’t give it to you.” Her breathing accelerated. “Because where you want me to go is somewhere it took me a long time to bury. It’s a place I don’t want to visit anymore when I’m awake because, as you know … it already haunts me in my sleep.” She shook her head. “So, no, Charles. I know you mean well. But no. I’m sorry.” Then, she stormed out of the kitchen, leaving me speechless and hurt.
My head dropped to my hands, and I rubbed at my brow, frustrated and sad and disappointed.
This was never going to work. None of it. Because she was right; there were strings attached. I wanted more, which meant I had to know her to love her. The woman who had stormed out of here had secrets buried deep, and although I wanted to know her, she was not letting me in. Maybe she never would.
So, any hope in a future together had disappeared the moment she shut me out and walked out of the room.