Crazy Girl(49)

“He touched me,” Kegs finally managed through gritted teeth.

I couldn’t help snorting a laugh. Maybe it was the time spent in the Marines, or maybe we both grew up with hardass fathers that built us a certain way, but we weren’t the kind of men some pint-sized fuckwad talked down to, or slapped on the back like he was our coach and we were high school football players. It wasn’t that we weren’t capable of taking orders and following directions…we were in the military at one point, after all, so obviously we could, but we were men now. We’d bled for our country. We’d developed skills that made us elite. We weren’t cocky or arrogant, but we knew we deserved respect. And to Henry’s disadvantage, we were civilians now. He knew damn well we could hand him his ass. This guy got off on treating men like us like less because it made him feel bigger. The little punk wouldn’t have survived one day as a soldier.

“Tracey and the kids were coming down tomorrow. Guess I should tell her to hold off since we have to recreate this whole fucking thing,” he gritted.

“I’m supposed to move into the new place in a week, and I haven’t even started packing,” I noted. I’d signed the lease the day before for the river house, but my previous landlord wanted me out as soon as possible because they’d found new tenants. I’d agreed, thinking I’d have a few days off to pack up before our next group of students arrived, but Henry fucked that up by asking us to remake our lesson plan.

“You know Henry is going to tell Van about your invite to the woodline, right?”

I bobbed my head a few times. I knew this, though I didn’t want to think about it. I’d probably be written up. “I’ll worry about it when the time comes,” I replied. “Maybe he’ll surprise us and keep it to himself. Might not want to look like a complete tool.”

Kegs’ mouth curled up on one side in a half smile. “A, you’re not that lucky. B, he is a tool…he can’t help but do toolish things.”

My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I pulled it out. It was Hannah. I hadn’t spoken to her since Sunday. It was Tuesday. She probably thought I was being an asshole and ignoring her.

“I gotta take this, bro,” I told Kegs as I headed toward the door. “Hello,” I answered.

“Hi there,” Hannah chirped. The greeting had sounded odd as it was, add in the fact that her voice was about twenty octaves higher than normal, it was plain awkward. She was nervous. “How are you?” she quickly added.

“Busy,” I admitted. “I’m sorry I haven’t called, but—”

“It’s okay,” she interrupted. “I get it…work.”

I narrowed my eyes, a little perturbed. The way she said it sounded like she didn’t believe it. “Hannah. Work really has been crazy. I’m not lying.”

“I didn’t say you were,” she clipped back.

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I took a moment before responding. I didn’t want to take out on her what was clearly aggression toward Henry. If I snapped back, so would she and then where would that leave us? “You sounded like maybe you didn’t believe me.”

She was quiet for a moment, then, “Some guys might use work as a way to keep a woman at arm’s length.”

And there it was. That damned insecurity of hers making an appearance. I was right, she didn’t believe I was tied up at work. “I’m not some guys,” I replied sternly. “The sooner you figure that out, the better off we’ll both be.”

Again, quiet. I figured she was trying to decide what to say next. “I’m sorry work is so busy,” she finally said.

I let out a frustrated sigh. She was skating over it, avoiding confrontation. Clearly, she questioned my honesty, but decided not to address it head-on. Choosing to let it go, not wanting to have an argument, I mentioned, “And I have to move and haven’t even started packing yet. Gotta be out by Sunday.”

“Why so fast?”

“Long story,” I mumbled. “I’m sorry I haven’t called. I know that looks shitty…it’s just been hectic.”

“Maybe I could come and help you pack, if that doesn’t seem too weird,” she offered.

I was glad we were on the phone and she couldn’t see the expression of suspicion on my face. I wasn’t used to people offering to help me…not without a motive anyway. Who in the hell would want to come help someone they barely knew pack to move? “Why?” I asked before I could stop myself.

She must’ve heard the cynicism in my tone because she shot back, “I was just offering, Wren. Trying to be nice. Hasn’t anyone ever been nice to you?”

“It’s been a while,” I admitted, turning in the direction of where I’d last seen Henry-the-douche walk off to.

“Look,” she huffed. “I was only trying to think of a way we could see each other and still allow you to get stuff done. Sorry.”

Rubbing my forehead, I took a moment. I was being harsh—again. And judging her at the drop of a hat. Maybe I didn’t understand how she could even want to help, but I couldn’t deny I actually needed it. “I’d feel shitty asking you.”

“You didn’t ask me,” she argued. “I offered. There’s a difference.”

With the stress of the changes at work and my pending move, my patience was on edge. I liked Hannah…a lot. But I was in a place where I wasn’t sure I could curtail my reactions around her insecurities, but I also realized if I wanted to see her again, I was going to have to figure out a way to do it, one way or another. Our brief relationship had been volatile thus far, and that wasn’t helping my current stress. But I wanted to see her, and if the only way was to let her help me pack and she was cool with it, then that’s what I’d do.