He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket as if he needed to in order to avoid touching her. And she wished he would touch her. She longed for it and wanted to feel his touch against her face and feel his fingers playing with her hair again.
“No,” he said, looking down at the floor. When he looked back up, he looked straight into her eyes. “And that's the problem, Harper. If I touch you, I won’t stop. I won’t want to. That’s why I have to leave. It's no good when I'm with you. I'm...it's like...”
“What?”
“I don't know. I'm uncomfortable.”
Her shoulders sagged. “I make you feel uncomfortable?”
“No, not you. This. Us. I'm no good at this.”
She sputtered. “Who is?”
“People who aren't me.”
“Are you telling me you've never been in love?”
His face grew serious. “No, not that. I'm just no good at it.”
“Shouldn’t I be the judge of that?”
“It's...unsettling.”
“It's supposed to be,” she said in a sudden burst of frustration. “It's love. It's supposed to make you feel like you're losing your mind when you're not with someone. And when you're with them, it's supposed to be the best feeling in the world. Which is it?”
“Being with you isn't easy.”
“It's not?”
He shook his head. “I can't think.”
She smiled. “I can relate to that.”
“I'm not comfortable with how I feel.”
“That's a good sign.”
He groaned. “No it's not. Did you hear me? It makes me uncomfortable.”
“So be uncomfortable! That's how you know it's real. If a person you really like isn't getting under your skin and making you feel all kinds of crazy feelings, then it's not real. It’s not love.”
“I don't like feeling this way. I don’t like thinking and worrying.”
“And living.”
His shoulders sagged as he stared at her in defeat. “It’s how I live. I don’t want to feel.”
“How do you know you're alive if you don't allow yourself to feel?”
He paused a moment and just stared at her. “I have to go.”
Harper stood rooted in place unable to move from the spot where she'd been just feet from Nash moments ago. She watched him head to the door, open it and walk through it while she struggled to understand what had just happened.
She wanted to go after him. But he didn't want her. He'd made that clear.
No, he said he hadn't regretted the kiss. That was clear. What the hell did that mean?
“I don't understand men,” she said, throwing her hands up and letting them fall to her side. “I work with a dozen men, and I don't understand any of them. Especially the one who just walked out my door.”
From where she was standing she could see the headlights of his truck turn on and then disappear down her driveway until she could no longer see them. The timer on the stove went off. Her lasagna was finished. She wasn't hungry. She was numb.
* * *
“You’re awfully quiet this morning,” her grandmother said as she poured a second cup of coffee. “Unusually so.”
“Am I?” Harper pretended not to know what her grandmother was talking about as she stirred the cream and sugar she’d just put in her coffee. It was easier that way.
“Hmm.”
“How did you do at Bingo last night? You never said,” Harper said, quickly changing the subject.
“You never asked. You were already in bed before I even got home. Also unusual.”
“I was tired.”
“You had a handsome man over for dinner and you were tired?” She laughed. “Sweetheart, I may be old but when my granddaughter goes to bed before I do after a date, I know something happened. And I don’t mean the good stuff.”
Tears were heavy in her eyes so she didn’t turn around. Instead, Harper pulled a bag of bagels out of the breadbox and busied herself making one, even though she had no appetite for it.
“Do you want one?” she asked.
“What?”
“A bagel.”
“No huckleberry muffins this morning? I think I still have some frozen berries in the freezer.”
“I wasn’t in the mood. But I can make them for you if you want some.”
“I’m perfectly capable of baking them myself.”
She sighed and swung around. “I know that, Grandma. I’m just saying. I’m making a bagel for myself anyway. But if you want muffins instead—”
“You’re avoiding me.”
“Yes, I am,” she said, swinging around so she was facing the cabinets again. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
There was silence for a few seconds. Then Harper heard the chair scrape against the kitchen floor and the sound of the table creaking just a bit as it bent under the weight of her grandmother leaning on it as she got to her feet.
“Hmm, we’ve been through this before, sweetheart,” her grandmother said warmly. “Running from your hurt doesn’t change it.”
Harper hesitated a second. “It’s not the same thing, Grandma. It’s not like when Mom and Dad died.”
“If the heart hurts, it hurts. It doesn’t put qualifiers on what’s causing it.” She came over and placed a loving hand on Harper’s back. “Hurt is hurt. Love is love. Don’t run from it. Embracing it is the only way to deal with it and heal it.”
She turned to her grandmother and forced a smile. “Thank you, Grandma. I’ll try to remember that.”
“You don’t have to be strong for anyone this time.”
Harper frowned and looked at her grandmother. “What do you mean?”
“When your mom and dad died, it took you a long time to move forward because you were so worried about your sister and me. I was…not as strong as I should have been for the two of you. You mother was my child. That’s a terrible loss and pain no one should have to go through. And your sister, well, she was never as strong as you. You didn’t get your strength from me. You got it from your grandfather. You
