The Haneys: What You Do To Me Part 19

"So, what have you been working on all day? Can I see?"

"Sure." Mentioning his work brought a smile to his brother's face.

Sam followed him to the smaller of his two bedrooms, which Wyatt had set up as a studio. He'd placed a drawing table and stool by the east-facing window, and a large sheet of paper with colorful panels lay across the surface. Sam moved close to take a look. His brother had a unique style, bold and angular, and his hero wielded lightning bolts from his hands to fight the dastardly otherworld creatures of evil. Wyatt's graphic tales often included a damsel in distress, and his latest damsel looked a lot like the blonde they'd encountered in the hallway.

"Wow, you're so freaking talented." Sam grinned at his brother. "Have you heard back from your latest submission?"

"No, not yet, but it's no big deal if I get rejected." He shrugged. "It's not like I don't have a job. I just really enjoy creating the stories and the graphics. In the meantime, I'll keep coming up with new ideas." He took a swig of his beer. "How's Haley? She too tired after her party to go snowmobiling with you today?"

Sam nodded and turned away, his face heating. A lump clogged his throat. No way did he want to tell Wyatt what had happened, especially after he'd told his brother he had no intention of hurting Haley. In fact, he wouldn't tell anyone. Eventually, like the Loaded Question radio show, Haley would fade from everyone's memory. Everyone's but his.

Guilt pinched at his heart. He owed Haley an explanation. He couldn't bear the thought that he was no better than her ex, leaving her hanging the way he had. He'd call her soon and ask her if they could talk. Even thinking about facing her stole his breath.

"What kind of pizza do we want?" Wyatt asked, leading the way out of his studio.

"Anything's fine with me. I'm not picky." What difference did it make? His stomach had tightened to the size of a walnut, and he couldn't eat anything anyway. "Order whatever you want."

He moved to Wyatt's living room and took a seat on the couch to search for a movie involving lots of explosions and car chases. Something action heavy and plot light-anything that didn't require trying to keep up or think. "Hey, have you seen the latest Marvel Avengers movie?" he called, scrolling through the options.

"Nope." Wyatt walked into the room, holding a menu and his cell phone. "Sounds great."

Wyatt ordered their pizza, and Sam selected the movie. A wave of grat.i.tude engulfed him. Wyatt had no idea that his insides were in a semipermanent twisted state, yet just being with him helped. Familiar and safe, that's what he needed. Once he apologized to Haley, he'd return to his routine, hang out with family, and eventually he'd feel like himself again. He slouched down on the couch and leaned his head back. He could hope, anyway.

Chapter Fifteen.

Haley sat at her computer, scrolling through the pictures Kathy had taken of her, trying to choose a few for her online dating profile. It had been eight days since Sam had fled the scene, and today her insides felt less wobbly. She wasn't quite ready to activate her account yet, but at least she could complete the profile. All that remained were the pictures to upload and completing her method of payment. Gah. Would dating other men purge Sam from her system?

Her phone chimed, notifying her she had a text message. Probably Kathy, checking to see how her profile was coming along. She picked it up and looked at the screen. Sam. Her heart tripped.

Hey, could I drop by sometime this coming week. If you're willing, I'd like to talk.

She dropped her phone, shot up from the chair and strode to the kitchen. Willing? Did she want to talk to him? Haley paced and wrapped her arms around herself. What did they have to talk about? He probably thought he owed her an explanation, which he did, but was she ready to hear what he had to say?

Wait. She could pretend she hadn't read the message for a while, at least until her pulse returned to normal. His stupid plastic bowl still sat in a corner of her kitchen counter with Josey's ceramic dish nestled inside. She'd meant to get hold of Josey, tell her she'd leave both in her breezeway so one of them could pick them up whenever-meaning at a time when she wasn't home.

Hadn't she learned anything this year? She didn't want to wait for months before finding closure. Despite the fact that he'd flat out told her he didn't do relationships, she'd fallen for him, and he'd given every indication that he cared back. What had happened that night? He'd looked so freaked out, standing there with his things clutched to his naked chest.

If she did agree to talk, it didn't mean she had to admit she'd fallen for him, and honestly, she did want to . . . what? Scold him for being the promiscuous commitment-phobe he'd always been? Lesson learned: No matter how many times you kiss a frog, it's still going to be an amphibian-not a prince. Who Sam chose to be and what he chose to do were not her business anymore. She'd talk to him, but on her terms.

Her heart in her throat, she forced herself back to her office and picked up her phone. She wouldn't let him know how much he'd hurt her. Staring at the screen with her insides scrambling for cover, she texted back.

If you want/need to talk, sure. How's this coming Thursday around six? You and your sister left your bowls here. You can pick them up then.

If she stared at her screen any harder, the gla.s.s might shatter. She inhaled through her nose and slowly exhaled through her mouth, trying to steady her nerves. Finally, he texted back.

That will work. See you Thursday, six p.m.

Haley dropped into her chair. Her hands were shaking, and her legs wouldn't hold her up any longer. This was Sunday. She had until Thursday to pull herself together. Four days. Did hair stylists keep openings for emergencies the way dentists did? She'd go shopping today. All the winter stuff was on clearance. Hopefully she could find a nice sweater or blouse and a new and perfect pair of jeans or leggings. She wanted to look her absolute best, which also meant a stop at Sephora for new makeup.

Don't show the cracks; don't let him see the dents he put in your heart. She hit Kathy's speed dial number and pressed her phone to her ear.

"Hey, Haley. What're you up to?" Kathy answered in a cheerful voice.

"You'll never guess who just texted me."

"Channing Tatum."

"I wish." Haley huffed. "Sam Haney. He wants to talk."

"Oh no. Tell me you turned him down."

"Why would I turn him down?" Haley frowned.

"You don't want to see him, Haley. Not after-"

"You're right. I don't want to see him; I want him to see me." Not entirely true; she ached to see him again, but she'd keep that to herself. "I'm going shopping today. I want to look great when he comes over." The night he'd come for his drill, he'd said she looked positively edible. He hadn't been able to take his eyes off her then, and she wanted that reaction one more time. "This is about me, Kathy. I want him to see I'm not falling apart. I want him to know his abrupt exit from my life has had no lasting effect."

"Hmm, which means it did have a lasting effect. You succ.u.mbed to his charm, and he broke your heart."

"I'll admit I did fall a little bit in love with Sam, but this is my chance for closure, and then I can let it go. I'm not going to fester for a year, wondering why things ended with Sam. I did that with Michael, and it's a waste of time. Do you want to come shopping with me?"

"Oh, gosh. I'd love to, but this is one of Blake's off-duty days, and we have plans. I'm meeting his parents for the first time. What about Felicia?"

"She's in Iowa visiting her grandparents. It's their fiftieth wedding anniversary this weekend, remember? She's not coming home until Tuesday."

"Right. I forgot."

"It's OK. This is going to be a power shopping trip anyway. I'm probably better off going by myself."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. Have fun with Blake and his parents." Haley was truly happy things were going so well for Kathy and Blake, but that didn't prevent a flash of envy from flaring to life. Her turn would come. She'd make it happen. "We'll talk tomorrow."

"All right. Go fire up that credit card, and buy something smoking hot. Nothing is as sweet as making a man who dumped you drool."

"That's exactly what I'm going for." Haley ended the call and saved her dating profile before putting her computer to sleep. Lots to do today, and it was already close to eleven. She hurried to her bathroom for a quick shower, plans for her shopping trip occupying her thoughts.

Four hours later, she pulled into to her garage, her trunk filled with bags of the sweet deals she'd found. The hard part would be choosing what to wear, the black skinny jeans or the burgundy denim. She also had two new sweaters and a tailored white blouse for work, plus a black-and-white Sephora bag holding mascara, a new shade of blush and her favorite eyeliner.

She could manage pretending to be happy and unaffected by Sam's rejection while graciously listening to what he had to say. Taking the high ground, being willing to forgive and forget, would certainly be easier if she could make him drool.

Haley unloaded her purchases and hit the b.u.t.ton closing her garage door. One more item remained on her list, and even if it meant taking a few vacation hours, she intended to get in for a brand-new haircut and style, something short to frame her face. Nothing says fresh start like a new hairstyle. She walked into her house with a lighter step. Drool, handyman, drool.

Once she'd cut off all the tags on her purchases and started a load of laundry, she completed her online dating profile and chose the six-month option. Her finger hovered above the Enter key for several seconds. Nervousness and self-doubt swirled through her. What if n.o.body responded? Worse, what if only creepy guys flirted with her? She swallowed and hit the Return key. Ready or not, she was going to do this. She needed to get her life moving forward again.

A flutter rippled through her stomach. Sam would be at her house in twenty minutes. What did he want to say to her? At least Kathy and Felicia's positive reactions to her haircut today had buoyed her confidence. Haley washed her face and applied fresh makeup, taking extra special care with her eyes.

Deciding what to wear had taken up at least half her time getting ready. The cream-colored tunic-style sweater she'd chosen had threads of copper, black and pewter woven through the yarn, and the black skinny jeans were casual enough that it didn't appear as if she'd gone to all that much trouble to look good . . . but she had, and she did. If only her nerves would calm down, she might be able to have a rational conversation with Sam.

She stepped back and studied herself in the mirror, turning her head this way and that to make sure every hair of her short bob with the angled sweep of layered bangs, was in place. The new cut set off her eyes and cheekbones, and she really liked how easy it was to style.

A knock on her door sent her pulse racing. She wiped her hands on a towel and forced herself to walk, not dash, to her living room. Plastering a smile on her face, she opened the door. Seeing Sam in his all-too-familiar Carhartt work jacket and signature faded flannel shirt beneath, she almost burst into tears. She'd been wrong. She couldn't do this. Her plastered smile faltered.

His gaze roamed over her from head to toe and then back again. "You cut your hair."

Her hand came up to touch her bangs, and she nodded.

"It's nice, but I liked the way it was before." Sam's Adam's apple bobbed, and his blue eyes darkened. "I liked the way you'd flip it over your shoulder, and how you'd sometimes put it up in a ponytail."

Her brow rose. "You came here to talk to me about my hair?"

"Uh, no. Sorry." Sam wiped his boots on the rubber mat in front of the door. "Can I come in?"

"Sure." She stood back, still gripping the edge of the door for support. "Can I get you something? Water, coffee?" A new outlook on involvement? Her heart wrenched. Sam had been perfect all the way up to the moment he'd made his mad, naked dash out of her bedroom.

"No. I'm fine, thanks." He slipped out of his coat and draped it over the back of the couch.

"Have a seat," she said, moving to the overstuffed chair in the corner. If she sat any closer to him, the meltdown she was struggling to conquer would defeat her. "So, you wanted to talk. Go ahead."

"I . . ." He cleared his throat. "I want to apologize for the way I left . . . things."

"By things, are you referring to the way you ran out of my house at two in the morning after having s.e.x with me, or things in general?" The hurt and anger finally overrode her nerves, lending her an odd sort of calm.

"Ahh . . . both." His Adam's apple bobbed again, and his face turned red. "I . . ." He blew out an audible breath. "Look, ever since my parents died, I've had panic attacks. My chest hurts, and I can't breathe. It's like having a heart attack, only it's not. When it happens, I get claustrophobic. I can't think. I just have to get out. That night, after we made love-"

"Had s.e.x, you mean." She lifted her chin.

He stared at her intently for a second before averting his gaze. "I had a panic attack, and I ran. I'm sorry, Haley."

She'd seen the panic in his eyes that night. Come to think of it, he hadn't really been all there when he'd left. He hadn't even been coherent. She frowned. "What were you thinking about before the panic attack?"

"Us."

Us? In his mind there had been an us? Wait, did he come here to talk her into giving him another chance? d.a.m.n this annoying spark of hope. She squelched the sucker. Devastating disappointment was not something she cared to set herself up for again. Still . . . it had to take a lot of courage to face her and admit to a panic attack. "What about us?"

"You know, what if we went down this path or that path, stuff like that."

"Relationship stuff."

He nodded, his expression bleak.

He'd lost his parents, and she'd wondered if his aversion to getting close had been a defense mechanism. The sudden flash of insight penetrated the hurt and anger. "Oh, Sam. This is about those unresolved issues we talked about, isn't it? Look, I understand how a childhood trauma like losing your parents can lead to irrational fears, but don't let it control your life. Don't cut yourself off from having feelings for-"

"I never said I didn't have feelings for you, Haley," he said, his voice hoa.r.s.e. "My heart functions just like everybody else's." His eyes met hers, and he leaned forward, placing his elbows on his thighs. He scrubbed his face with his hands for a second. "Yeah, I'm sure it has something to do with losing my parents. The problem is, I feel too much, and the thought of facing more loss isn't something I want to put myself through. That's why I don't do relationships." He lifted his head, his gaze intense again.

All her desire to come away from this the victor fell away, and she looked, really looked at Sam. His face was leaner, pale, and he had dark circles under his eyes. He did care about her, but he wasn't here to ask for a second chance. Her heart broke all over again. "So, let me get this straight. You would rather throw us away, because somehow, suffering now is preferable to suffering later. Is that it?"

He shrugged his broad shoulders, and a wave of frustration tinged with empathy swept through her. "What makes you think you'd be the one to lose me, Sam? Maybe I'd be the one to lose you."

He made a m.u.f.fled snorting noise and shook his head.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Absolutely." He sat back up and took a deep breath, as if bracing himself. "That's why I'm here, so we can talk this through. I don't want there to be any hard feelings between us. It's just that . . ."

"You don't do relationships."

He nodded again. G.o.d, her heart and her head hurt, not just for herself, but for him. To be so trapped by fear and panic must be awful for him. She couldn't imagine cutting herself off from the possibility of love and a family of her own. Haley ran her damp palms along her jeans. "So, say we had chosen to be together and you did lose me. What would that be like for you?"

He shot her a puzzled look. "What do you mean?"

"Well, like . . . would you have trouble sleeping?" The dark circles looked like bruises beneath his eyes.

"I suppose."

Yep. He was definitely thinner, his face more angular and way less boyish. "And you might lose your appet.i.te, have trouble eating?"

"What's your point, Haley?"

"It seems to me . . ." She paused, searching for the words that might penetrate his irrational thought processes. "It's obvious you've lost weight, and looking at you now, I can see you haven't been sleeping well. Am I right?"

"I guess. So?"

"So . . ." She threw up her hands. "What's the difference, Sam? You're putting us both through this misery, and it's needless. We could be together." Her eyes filled, and she forced herself to calm down. Now was not the time to cry. "But we're not, because you've decided-without giving me a say, by the way-that it's better to be in pain now rather than later." She shook her head.

"That makes no sense. Sooner, later . . . again, what's the difference? Hurt happens, but so do love and happiness. Don't you see? You're not . . ." Her voice hitched. "You haven't prevented anything. All you've done is cut yourself off from a huge part of what life has to offer. Just think of the memories we could've made together."

She was grasping at straws here, but she couldn't seem to stop. "Memories sustain us when loss happens. They're like . . . well, they're like flotation devices that keep us afloat through the tough times."

Was anything getting through to him? She couldn't tell. He sat like a statue in her living room, like one big tragic work of male performance art. "I saw you with the kids you coach and with your cousins. You'd make a great dad, and I have no doubt you'd enjoy the role. You have so much to offer. You're sweet, considerate, compa.s.sionate, affectionate-"

"Great in bed," he added, still averting his gaze.

She rolled her eyes. "The point is, things don't have to be like this. I'm sad. I have feelings too, and you've hurt them."

"I'm sorry, Haley. I never set out to cause you any grief. For what it's worth, you're the closest I've ever come to serious involvement, but I just can't do the relationship thing." He scrubbed his face with both hands again. "I choke up, panic, and I'd rather . . . It's better for all involved if I don't have to experience that on a daily basis."

"Have you thought about, you know, maybe talking to a professional about this?"

"No. It wouldn't do any good, and it won't change my mind. My grandparents put me, Josey and Wyatt through therapy after our parents died. If it didn't help then, it's not going to make a difference now." He stood up. "I'd better get going. It wasn't you, Haley. You're amazing, and never doubt it-I have very strong feelings for you. This is my issue."

"Yes." Anger and defeat exhausted her last hope. "It is your issue. Obviously, I can't talk you into or out of anything, so I'll stop trying. It's your life, your decision." She wanted to scream, cry and argue with him until he realized what an idiot he was being, but it wouldn't do any good. He was stuck, and it wasn't up to her to unstick him.