He continued. “I mean. I don’t know. Us? That implies we’re, you know, dating. A couple. In a relationship or something. And we’re not. Maybe we’re moving too fast for you. Maybe we should take things slower—not get so attached—”
“So attached?” Her words burst out louder than she intended. “Erik, I’m sorry, but am I missing something here? You asked me out on our first date the day we met.”
“Technically, that was just Sunday dinner.”
“And Wild Horse?”
“That was just a day trip.”
“Calling me Ӓlskling? Teasing? Texting? Kissing? Even tonight, on the car ride to the restaurant. Do you remember what you said to me? You said, ‘I like you too much.’ That was, like, three hours ago. Erik, come on! Stop acting like there’s nothing between us.”
He was making her angry, furious, even. And fury felt so much better than rejection.
“I’m not saying there’s nothing between us. There is something, I guess. I mean, I’m just not ready to name it.”
“This is about putting a label on our relationship?”
He cringed at the word relationship, his tongue darting out to lick his lips nervously.
“They’re going to notice, Kat! Jenny and Ingrid. And your brother, and my brothers, and your mom and my dad. The way you say we and us, and touch my hand, and…. They’re all going to notice and it’s going to get sticky. It’s going to be a thing that they’re all watching and talking about, and if it doesn’t work out, it’s going to be messy because they’re going to feel like they have a stake in it. Yes, I’m uncomfortable. No, I don’t like it. They’re going to see how attached you are to me, and—”
“How attached I am to you?”
“Well, yeah, you’re attached to me, and I’m—”
“You’re what? What about you, Erik?” she exploded. “This can’t possibly be about you too, right? No. That would be impossible. You don’t get attached! You don’t commit! So this is only about me!” Her face was hot as a bonfire and she seethed inside as he painted a picture of some annoying hanger-on having a runaway crush on an unwilling suitor.
“Come on, Kat. Calm down. I just think…”
“You just think I’m some pathetic, jilted girl who attached herself to you because my sister-in-law is your old friend and she forced you into keeping an eye on me.”
“No. I didn’t say that. Come on. We’ve been having some fun. But, now that you mention it, you have been hurt recently. You’re vulnerable, and maybe I seem like a good choice—”
“A good choice? Are you crazy? You’re the biggest risk I ever took! You pursued me, Erik. You kept asking me out. Having some fun? Wow!” The lump in her throat was out of control and angry, burning tears gathered in the back of her eyes like acid. “Do you even hear yourself? Too attached?”
“Kat, calm down—”
“You shut up! You are a jackass, Erik Lindstrom. A total and complete jackass, and I don’t know what I’m doing with you. I have never asked you for a commitment. I have never asked you for anything! I’ve had enough of this—”
He pulled into the parking lot in front of the clinic and she pushed her door open even before the car had stopped completely. He grabbed the wrist closest to him and held it firmly, uncompromisingly.
“Stop! You’re going to hurt yourself.”
“What do you care?” she demanded.
“I do care. Stop.”
She turned to face him, the word “care” pathetically grabbing her attention. Even as she ached with a mixture of anger, sadness, and embarrassment, her heart longed for him and desperately hoped he would retract his words, tell her he was just scared of labels, scared of commitment, heck, scared of a little teasing from their families—anything, anything that would let her still care for him, let him still care for her. She had a sudden wild hope that he would admit that beyond caring about her, or liking her, he was crazy about her; that he was just as into her as she was into him, and all that “attached” junk was just fear talking.
“What, Erik? What?” she barked, eyes blazing, her chest hurting from the way her lungs forced air back and forth into them, trying to keep her tears from falling.
“I care, Katrin. Of course I care. I made a promise. I promised Ingrid that I’d—”
She saw red. Bright, raw, blistering red.
“Stop. Talking. This has nothing to do with Ingrid. Leave her out of it.” She yanked her wrist out of his grasp with an angry jerk, turning her body away from him. Her voice was low and spiteful when she spoke again, looking at him over her shoulder. “You know what, Erik? You’re a coward. There’s something between us, and it’s not just fun. I mean, it is fun, but it’s also intense, and it’s real, and it’s growing, and it’s…good. And it scares the hell out of you. Well, it scares me too, but I’m not running away from it or minimizing it or trying to shut it down just because it might actually mean something.”
She had lost her battle with her tears and they coursed down her face in furious rivers of wet heat. She half expected him to rub her back or try to pull her to him, but he didn’t touch her. She hoped she had hurt him. She remembered him calling Wade a coward with disgust, so she knew the word had meaning for him, and she hoped she had made him angry. And hurt. As angry and hurt as she felt now.
She didn’t turn to face him when she spoke again; she couldn’t look at him. But, she knew he could hear her words in the quiet of the car.
“Erik…don’t come back here again if it’s for Ingrid. I mean it.
