He gave her a minute to absorb that, then he pointed out the French doors. “I spend my evenings in the office above the garage. See that house over there.” He pointed to his place across a field. “I’ve lived here the last five years. I’ve known your grandparents since I was a kid. They’re friends with my parents and like a second set of parents to me. They’re family. Dee feeds me.” He shrugged and cocked up one side of his mouth in a half grin.
“I’ve got some leftover pain meds at my place from when I hurt my shoulder,” he continued. “They won’t cut the pain you’re in by much, but they’ll take the edge off. I’ll take you into town tomorrow to the drugstore, and we’ll get you a new prescription for whatever you need.”
“Um, wait,” she said, stopping him before he went out the door. “Ah, the cuts on my back . . . do you have any antibiotic ointment I can put on them?”
“Did your stuff go into the fire?”
“Yeah.” She spoke to his boots.
He stared at the top of her head, fighting the urge to brush his hand down her hair and reassure her that everything was going to be fine. The set of her shoulders and the rigid way she held her body told him she wouldn’t believe him. She was done. She needed to be in bed and get a solid three days’ sleep before she felt better. Too bad she wouldn’t be curled up next to him. It was a nice thought, but she had “Hands Off,” “Stay Back, and “No Trespassing” stamped all over her.
“Just give me a minute. Okay?”
When she nodded, he left through the doors and walked across the deck to the office stairs to run over to his place. He was back in a matter of minutes with the pills and a bottle of water.
She glanced up. “Why are you doing all this? You could have gone home.”
He made a show of looking out at his place not so far away. “I’m basically home.”
“You know what I mean. You don’t need to be here dealing with me.”
“I don’t do anything I don’t want to do.” It was the truth. He wanted to be here with her.
“Yes, poor Gillian. She’s all beat up.”
He should have known she wouldn’t believe him. “No. That should be, Poor Gillian, she’s tired and hurt and deserves a break. If she’d stop being stubborn and accept a little help, she might feel better.”
“Pity.” Gillian spat the word out like it tasted as bad as the thought.
“No one could pity you, Gillian. You’ve got guts and strength and a will and determination anyone would admire. I do. When I look at you I see—”
“A dozen bruises, a broken arm, a sprained wrist and knee, and a baker’s dozen stitched-up glass cuts,” she said sarcastically.
“I see,” he went on, ignoring her interruption, “a woman with enough guts to take on raising a newborn baby. I see a woman who worked her ass off to graduate high school and work a part-time job at whatever she had to in order to feed and clothe her brother. I see a woman who thinks about a little boy’s welfare in exclusion to her own. I see a woman who is fearless and took on a drugged-out man with a gun in order to prevent him from hurting or killing a defenseless little boy. I see a woman who is fearless enough to put herself in the path of that man over and over again to spare her brother. I see a woman who is fearless enough to come to a new state, to a family member that she isn’t sure will be decent to her, because she wants her brother to have a normal childhood, and she’s hoping this is his shot. I see a woman who has enough guts to stick it out and see if it works, and who knows that if she has to turn around and leave, she’ll do everything in her power to give that little boy that normal childhood even if it kills her. Pity,” he said distastefully. “I don’t pity you. I have an overabundance of respect and admiration for you.”
She sat on the edge of the bed with her arms wrapped around her middle. He wanted to reach out and brush his hand over her hair and watch the colors change as the strands caught the light.
Offer up the comfort she didn’t want, and he shouldn’t give.
“I know you’re tired and not strong enough right now to keep all your defenses up, so I’ll forget that you could possibly think I pity you. I’ll go check on Justin.” Water splashed in the other room, and what sounded like bombs went off every few seconds. “It sounds like he’s having a good time. Take the pills and unpack. You can take a shower and go to sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning.” Blake left her room.
She felt like a fool. She thought about what he’d said. It wasn’t so much the words as the way he said them. He truly respected her and what she’d done to keep Justin safe and raise him the best she could. No one had ever acknowledged her in that way.