Page 13 of Work It Out
Sheets rustled in the next room. He pictured her, so small in a king-size bed alone. How much smaller had she been when her dad—
Go to sleep, dumbass.
“Where was your mom?” Shit.
More rustling, and he imagined her turning to face him. “What?”
“I just—” He rolled over again. “I wondered where your mom was, when your dad was being a jerk about cookies.” Nothing from the other room. No rub of cotton against cotton. He couldn’t even hear her breathe. “Never mind. That’s a rude question. Forget—”
“Dying.” Her whisper cut through his useless jabbering like an ax. “Ovarian cancer. She’d known something was wrong for years, but her doctors blew her off. Dad being in denial didn’t help. When they found it, she was stage four.”
Her words slammed into his chest and squeezed. “Damn, Rayah. I’m so sorry.”
“It was a long time ago, Mr. Newman.”
How long? He wanted to ask but even he wasn’t rude enough to keep pushing such a painful topic, especially when she called him Mr. Newman in that crisp, professional tone.
He thought that was the end of it, until her soft voice wended through the night again. “What about you? Where was your mom while Dr. Dad was being such a ‘prick’?”
He deserved that, but he liked that she made even personal questions sassy, so he answered more honestly than usual. “No idea. She took off when I was five. I used to blame my dad for that.” He tucked the thick comforter closer to his side and fluffed his pillow with a punch.
“Used to?”
“I had to reevaluate when my fiancée dumped me. But I can’t imagine Mom left because I wasn’t ‘manly’ enough. What kindergartener is?” He froze. What the hell was that? Why had he blurted that out? Only a handful of people knew the real reason Yvonne broke things off, and he didn’t need that fraction growing. Except, after the wounds she’d likely reopened today, he felt like he owed her honesty in equal measure.
Her bed creaked as if she’d sat up. “She actually said that to you?”
No. She’d said no woman wanted a man who “swooned” all the time, but he’d never feelthathonest.
He didn’t know whether to be thankful for the dark or to curse it for casting some sort of spell on him. It was too intimate, too falsely anonymous. This wasn’t pillow talk between lovers, no matter how much it felt like it, no matter how much it felt like she belonged to him in that moment. At least he didn’t have to look at her, didn’t have to see her pity.
“Mr. Newman?”
Mr. Newman. He finally understood why Blaine constantly growled around her.
“That’s garbage.” No pity tainted her answer, however, not even compassion. There was only fire. “You know that, right?”
Taken aback, he stumbled over the answer that had come so easily since the breakup. “Of course. Yvonne just—”
“Yvonne?” She paused. “Yvonne Vastin?”
Here we go. “Yeah.”
Rayah didn’t laugh at how out of his league he’d been, though. Since the break, his ex had become the “it girl” of the decade, the talented, ethereal beauty to his slightly dumpy comic relief. But Rayah said, “Huh. She ought to know better,” and skipped right over it. “Regardless, this is the twenty-first century. No one gets to tell you what being a man looks like for you. That’s her antique toxicity.” More rustling, as if she’d had her say and could settle back in. “You’ll never be enough to please them all. Hell, sometimes you’ll be too much. You have to figure out what being enough means to you, then own it.”
The few people who knew what Yvonne said to him blamed her parting dig on her being an image-obsessed, bitter bitch. But that had never felt right to him. Rayah didn’t have a fuck to spare for petty games and name calling and zero interest in reassuring him of his studliness. So why were her words the most comforting thing anyone had said? And why did he feel like she understood where he was coming from better than he did?
“Thank you, Rayah. For taking care of me.” For trusting him even though he didn’t deserve it.
“You’re welcome, Jake.”
His only reply was the noise his smile made in the darkness. He fell asleep wondering how she hid such a big heart in such a little body and if her father was the only one who’d made her guard it so carefully.
Chapter Four
September 17
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