Page 29 of The One Who Risked it All
I swallowed hard, the knot in my throat stubborn, and forced myself to look at the spider instead of her. She wasn’t making it easy, though. My heart squeezed with something else I couldn’t quite place. Desire? Maybe. But I refused to go there, to admit what this was. I should have stepped back, given her space, but my body refused to cooperate.
She pointed to the ceiling, and I jumped at the sight of the spider in the corner. It was the size of my watch. Of course, it was.
I searched for a weapon, my pulse spiking. Nothing. I darted into Nathan’s closet, grabbing a shoe as if it was going to save me from the impending doom of a eight-legged monster.
I took a deep breath, grabbing a wad of toilet paper to dispose of the nightmare. I could do this. I could. In one of the last conversations I had with Nathan, he kept going on about slaying dragons for his wife. Maybe this counted.
After a moment of terror, when I thought it might escape, I tossed the evidence of the gruesome murder into the trash can. I ran a hand over my rumpled hair and turned to look at Carla, sure to keep my eyes firmly focused on her eyes. “All set.”
Carla tightened her grip on her towel, eyes searching mine. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”
“No problem. All part of the service, ma’am.”
She rolled her eyes at my attempt at humor, but her lips twitched with the hint of a smile. It was enough to undo me. I should leave, but the pull of her presence is a heavy weight, keeping me rooted to the spot.
The air between us was thick with unspoken words, with every glance lingering just a fraction too long. As I turned to leave, I couldn’t help but wonder how much longer we could keep pretending there was nothing between us.
I forced myself to move, but stopped in the doorway, my hand resting on the frame. I didn’t look at her. “Hey, Carla?”
“Yeah?”
“Try not to wake the whole house next time, okay? Some of us need our beauty sleep.”
She laughed, the sound warming me more than any shower could. It shouldn’t affect me this much, but it did. “Get out of here, Wells.”
As I closed the door behind me, I leaned against it, eyes shuttered. Living this close to Carla was going to be the death of me. But what a way to go.
CHAPTER 11
Carla
Isat in the stillness of my car, my hands resting in my lap as my thoughts churned. My conversations with Eli kept replaying in my mind—his teasing, his quiet vulnerability, the way his eyes seemed to ask questions I wasn’t ready to answer. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I wasn’t supposed to feel like a teenager again, torn between loyalty to my family and the pull of someone who made my heart race.
What was I doing? It was just supposed to be a couple of days of helping out, nothing more. But now, every time I closed my eyes, it was Eli’s smile I saw, his laugh I heard.
A decade ago, it had been Eli who walked away. I hadn’t understood at the time. I was oblivious, happily head-over-heels for him. Until he shut me out and never explained why. It wasn’t until later that I’d heard the truth. Eli’s father had forbidden him from seeing me. And he’d obeyed.
I didn’t blame him. Truly, I didn’t. We were kids. It was puppy love, right? But that didn’t mean it hadn’t hurt. It still hurt to think about. I couldn’t blame him for choosing his family over me. But I would be lying if I didn’t wish he’d chosen differently. Or at least… handled it differently? Would it have hurt less if he’d been honest about it? I wasn’t sure.
What I did know was that I didn’t want to live in the shadow of old grudges. I wanted to live in the present, and the present, right now, was calling me to Eli.
I could already feel the tension that would greet me when I walked into my parents’ house. It was inevitable. Dad wouldn’t like what I had to say, but I had to say it. I couldn’t let fear of his anger dictate my life anymore. I had to face him.
Taking a deep breath, I squared my shoulders and walked toward the door. It was time. Time to lay everything out and finally tell my father that I was my own person—one who was starting to think for myself, starting to make choices for reasons other than family loyalty.
I stepped into my parents’ living room, the familiar scent of the fire mingling with Mom’s lemon-scented furniture polish. Dad sat in his worn leather armchair, paper rustling as he turned the pages of his John Grisham novel. My heart thumped against my ribs as I took a deep breath, readying myself for the conversation ahead.
“Hey, Dad,” I said, trying to keep my voice casual as I sank onto the plush floral couch. “How’s the book?”
He grunted noncommittally, eyes still skimming the chapter. I fidgeted with a throw pillow, gathering my courage.
“So, uh, I had an interesting week,” I ventured. “I’m babysitting the Wells boys for a few days.”
Dad’s head snapped up, his bushy eyebrows furrowing.Oh boy, here we go.
“The Wells boys?” he echoed, shutting his book with a crisp snap. “What in tarnation are you doing with them?”
I shrugged, aiming for nonchalance. “Harold and Patty were supposed to watch them while Nathan and Rebecca took a trip, but Harold had a heart attack.”
