Page 15 of Fearless Protector
“Why are you giving me your phone?”
“So you can read the texts from Brian. I know you were freaking out about the optics of us taking advantage of the situation. I thought it might make you feel better to see it in writing.”
Her heart thudded. There was something profound about being understood. When someone could see your neurotic worry and not shame you for it, but instead try to calm it showed a generosity of spirit she didn’t often experience. “You don’t have a passcode?”
“Like to lock my phone?”
“Yeah, you should have a passcode. I don’t know any guy who doesn’t have their phone locked down like they have state secrets on there.”
“Or like they’ve got something to hide from the people in their life. I don’t really roll like that. If I’m hanging out with someone, they can see whatever I’ve got going on. Playing games is overrated.”
“Transparency?” she asked, her mouth curling into a smile. “What a novel idea.”
“It’s not for everyone.” He gestured at her. “And that’s okay.”
“I hope you know I’m not playing games.” She sighed. “I really do have my reasons for keeping my past far behind me. It’s not anything personal against you.”
“I know.” He grabbed a towel from the basket by the bedroom door. “Read the texts. I hope they make you feel better about going. And feel free to read any other texts I have in there. Seriously. Go for it.”
Cleo tried to dissect his words like they were a code. Surely this was some kind of trick. Reverse psychology? Either way, the part of her that craved clarity had to look. She took an amazing amount of comfort in the texts from Brian, insisting they take a few days off. Offering up all sorts of resources. It was apparent the only reason Nick asked was to bring her some kind of comfort. That was touching.
There were plenty of times in her life she wished she wasn’t like this. It wasn’t easy to be inflexible. To need this much reassurance and predictability. There was always something sexy and whimsical about a woman who could go with the flow. She could picture the kind of zest for life that required. The scarf over her hair, oversized sunglasses, the roof of the convertible down, a hastily packed suitcase. And the wide-open road ahead of her.
But Cleo needed more than that. She packed days in advance. Had a checklist. The road wasn’t some wide-open thing to explore. A convertible wasn’t a practical kind of car. There was a right way to do something, and when that’s tampered with, things go wrong. Very wrong. She knew that from hard-won experience.
Biting her lip and trying to breathe deeply without looking like she was hyperventilating, she sank into the front seat of the car. She’d let him drive. It was something they usually bickered over, but she knew she’d be using most of her energy to relax. That sounded like an oxymoron. Having to power her way toward relaxation, but it was accurate.
“There’s a service station about ten miles from here,” Nick said casually as he started the engine. “I took a look online, and they’ve got a good amount of grocery options. I’ll fill the tank, and you go in and get whatever you think we’ll need.”
“That almost sounds like a plan.” She smiled. “Thank you.”
“I’m not a complete ass. As much as I like giving you a hard time, I can tell this stuff really bothers you. We’re still going to do some wild stuff, but if having a granola bar in your pocket makes you feel better while we do it, that’s fine by me.”
Cleo patted her pocket, and the wrapper of the granola bar she already had in her pocket crinkled. It sent them both into a burst of breathless laughter.
“When we’re lost in the woods because we got a flat tire and you want half this granola bar, I’m going to remind you how you made fun of me.”
“I know how to change a tire.”
“Do you know where we are going after the gas station? I’m just curious. You have something in mind?”
“West,” he said, nodding his head. “We’re going west.”
“I can live with that.”
He reached over and patted her knee. “And if you can’t, just let me know.”
“You think I’m crazy?” She knew this was a dangerous question, but for some reason, she cared what he thought of her.
“In what way?” he chuckled. “You drive me crazy if that counts.”
“I’m type A. I like things to be in order. I want to know the plan. That seems crazy to you?”
“No.”
“But you’re not like that. You are totally fine just figuring it out as you go.”
“Right.”