Page 26 of Timber's Girl
Feeling an itch of uneasiness despite the earlier peace, I boil a pot of water before stirring in the noodles for macaroni and cheese. Comfort food is exactly what I need right now.
As I stand over the stove, two strong arms wrap around me from behind, and I freeze, even though I recognize Gideon’s presence.
"It's just me." He nuzzles the side of my neck and squeezes me a little tighter to him.
"I know.” A forced sham of a laugh bubbles out. “You startled me." I turn my head to see him better. His eyes are bright, and the corners of his mouth twitch as if he’s holding back a smile.
He’s happy.
And I love seeing that. Knowing I’m the cause of it.
But there’s still that uncomfortable itch.
Searing pain.
With a shout of surprise, I rip my hand back from the overflowing pot in front of me. Hot water splashes over the sides, and Gideon quickly twists the dial to lower the heat and grabs my hand.
I shiver at the gentle touch but let him lead me to the sink where he runs water over the burn. The sting abates a little but returns once I remove my hand.
"Damn, I shouldn't have distracted you,” he says. “Keep your hand here. I'll check to see if you have something for burns."
“Medicine cabinet in the bathroom.”
“Okay. I’ll be right back.” Two minutes later, Gideon strides into the kitchen with a bottle of aloe vera meant for sunburns. After drying my hand with a dishtowel, he rubs the gel on the back of my hand. The wound isn't very big, but it hurts like hell. “Is that better? Lindy?”
His voice sounds muted. Another shiver skitters down my spine. Why am I cold? That doesn’t make sense.
“Lindy? What’s wrong?” He reaches for my cheek, and I involuntarily flinch in my seat at the dining table.
Oh, god. What was that? Gideon wasn’t going to hurt me. He’d never hurt me.
Logically, I know that’s true. But my body isn't running on logic right now. Between the reminder of Dean’s insults and the blast of pain from my cooking, they triggered a trauma response—something I don’t want Gideon to see. It’s not his fault, and I don’t want him shouldering the blame for my brain’s issues.
“Lindy?”
Swallowing the icepicks in my throat, I manage a few words. “I need a minute, please.”
“Do you want me to go?”
Inhale. Exhale. Slow, even breaths.Licking my lips, I shake my head. “No, you don’t need to leave. I just need time and space to calm down.”
Gideon nods, concern a heavy mask on his face. “Okay, baby.”
He grabs the wooden spoon I was using and stirs the macaroni, watching the noodles until they’re done. Strainingthem at the sink, he mixes the final ingredients in then fills two bowls, setting them on the table.
“Thank you,” I murmur, feeling marginally better.
I like that Gideon wants to take care of me. By being my guardian shadow. By making me lunch. By respecting my boundaries, listening to what I need and abiding by it.
“Does anything ever rocket you back to your past with your uncle?”
Understanding washes over his worried expression. “Cans of Michelob. It was his drink of choice.”
My chin dips in acknowledgment. “Dean always had something to say at every meal. At first, I was open to suggestions, but then it became obvious that nothing I did would please him.”
“He's an asshole.”
I fork a bite of mac and cheese into my mouth. “True. I'm sorry I flinched earlier. That wasn't about you.” I slide my hand across the table in a peace offering, which Gideon promptly accepts.