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"I'll keep mentioning it until I see evidence that it's registered. I'm not saying you have to do anything about it right now. All I’m pointing out is how good of a person he is. I could hear from out here how thoughtfully he handled every part of the contract discussion earlier." She was insistent. I loved it when it came to work, not so much my personal life.
"Cheyenne—"
"I know you, Grizzly. I know what you're like when something scares you. You stuff all the feelings away and focus on work." She gave me an exasperated look. "He's not going to hurt you. And even if he doesn't end up being everything you want him to be… Actually, I think he's going to be exactly what you want. I bet if you dig down deep, you’ll see it too."
Silence enveloped the space as we all processed Cheyenne’s words.
Moseley cleared his throat. "What she's trying to say is that you deserve to be taken care of too. Not just the other way around."
I looked at him. He had the grace to look slightly uncertain about whether he'd overstepped, but he held my gaze anyway.
With a sigh, I dropped my arms. "I know. I appreciate you both. More than I say out loud."
"You could say it more," Moseley teased.
"Don't push it." I said it without any real edge.
We shared a laugh, then the phone rang and Moseley rushed to answer it.
"I have calls to return," I said. "Let me go do that."
Cheyenne stepped aside, which meant she was done pressing for now. I knew she would come back to it. That was fine. Right then, I just needed a few minutes of quiet to put my head back into work mode.
I settled into my chair, eyes not focusing on anything in particular. As much as I needed to get done, my thoughts kept coming back to the menu at the diner.
It was such a small moment in the grand scheme of everything. He had seen me struggle, then offered help. Though really he didn’t offer in the traditional sense. It was as if he knew I’d be stubborn and turn him down.
He’d saidwhat are you in the mood forlike nothing was wrong.
He didn't know. That was the part I kept landing on. He didn't know about the diagnosis or the timeline or what my eyes were already struggling with, yet he’d still done that.
Maybe, I thought. Then I stopped myself, because I was a bit scared of even thinking the words. I tried again, more carefully.
Maybe the way he handled something as small as a menu was similar to how he would handle the bigger things. Maybe a person who responded to need with that kind of attention could sit with the harder truths too.
The ones I was still figuring out how to carry myself.
I’d spent a long time believing that the parts of me that needed tending to were too much. Too complicated. Too far from what anyone would want to take on willingly. My Little side, yes, but also my vision loss and the years of being told in one way or another that I was too soft for this world.
Learning to present only the pieces of myself that were useful, how to fit cleanly into a professional context, was pivotal in how I navigated life. Paxton Wells had sat across from me and obliterated my defenses.
Maybe he'll accept every part of me.
After a few more minutes of thinking it through, I picked up the phone to start returning calls. You could only sit with your feelings for so long before you had to get up and keep going.
CHAPTER 13
Paxton
Pops was already dressed and waiting by the door when I came out of the bathroom. Clearly he’d been awake for a while. He had a printout in his hand with three addresses on it and little notes jotted beside each one in his handwriting.
"You printed those out downstairs? We could’ve just looked them up on the phone.”
He shook his head. "I like having paper."
"You called me old-fashioned for writing a grocery list on paper."
"That's different, and it was a joke. You ready?" He folded the printout and tucked it into his shirt pocket.
