Finally Finding Faith (The Reed Brothers 3.5)

“We can walk,” she says with a nod.

“Maybe there will be a nice, stiff wind,” I tease. Her face colors again. I will never get tired of that.

“Dream on, soldier,” she teases.

We take a seat at Rocko’s and I go for the one-pound burger. Rocko has a wall of fame, and if you can eat the humongous burger, you get your picture added to the wall and your burger is free. I have never been able to do it, but I’m hungrier today than I have ever been before when I tried this. Not to mention older. She gets an order of fries. “No burger?” I ask.

She shakes her head and grins. “This isn’t my first rodeo,” she says. She drinks a cherry cola and she looks so damn happy. Today really was the perfect day.

“What’s your story, Faith?” I ask. I have wanted to know all day. No man in his right mind would let her go if he ever spent one moment with her. “You made me spill my guts. Now it’s your turn.”

She shakes her head and bites her lips together. “You don’t want to hear my story,” she says sadly, and her face clouds.

I take her hand in mine. “I do,” I say. “Why hasn’t a man snatched you up?” I ask.

“There goes that snatch word again,” she says.

I chuckle out loud, hanging my head back. My chest rumbles. I have laughed more today than I have in years. I whisper playfully, “At least I didn’t say naked snatch.”

She crosses her legs beneath the table and that makes me laugh even more. “Wet, naked snatch,” she says quietly, and the heat of her words shoots straight to my dick. She laughs.

I know what she’s doing though. She’s trying to brush off my question. I am the master at evasion, so I know. “Tell me your story, Faith. Why aren’t you in a relationship?”

She nods. It’s a quick jerk, almost like she’s steeling herself. “I was.”

“Married?” I ask.

She nods and she leans back. She’s purposefully putting distance between us. I’m okay with that for now. “Yes, for two years.”

“What happened?” I ask. “He has to be an idiot if he let you go.”

She smiles, but it’s sad. It’s more for me than her. “He died.” She coughs into her fist like she needs to clear her throat. She blinks furiously and waves a hand in her face. “I swore I wouldn’t do this today,” she says, chuckling, but it’s a watery sound.

“How did he die?”

She clears her throat again. “Drunk driver. Two years ago today.”

“Oh, shit,” I say. I get up and slide into her side of the booth so I can sit beside her. She pushes me back, though.

“I’m fine,” she says. “I’m not going to cry. Not for long.” She laughs again.

I take her face in my hands and look into her green eyes. “It’s okay to cry.”

She heaves a sigh. “It’s been such a wonderful day,” she says. “Thank you so much for taking my mind off of it.” She smiles, and this time it’s real. “I really appreciate it.”

“I wish you’d told me sooner,” I say. “I would have worked harder.”

She giggles. “Today was wonderful,” she breathes. She lays her forehead on my chest, and I palm the back of her head, stroking down the length of her hair. She lets me for a minute, and then the waiter is back with the food. I don’t move back to my side of the booth. I stay right where I am, because it’s where I want to be.

“You loved him a lot,” I say. I don’t have to ask. I just know.

She dips a French fry into her ketchup. “Lots,” she says, and then she crams the fry into her mouth.

I nod, and take a bite of my burger. “Have you dated since him?” I ask. I might be getting too personal, but she asked me about the burns and my men, so maybe it’s all right.

She nods. “I’ve been on dates,” she says. “But it’s just…” She stops and heaves in a breath. “Hard. It’s hard to get over it.”

I look into her eyes. “Why did you want to spend the day with me today? To forget?”

She shakes her head. “That’s only part of it. I did forget. For a long time today, I forgot. But I saw in you the same loneliness I had after he died. I wanted to help you. To make you feel better.” She shrugs.

“It did. Make me feel better, I mean.” My heart is thumping like mad and it blows my mind that this happy woman who brought me so much joy went through such a tragedy two years ago on this very date. “I wish I could get better for you, Faith,” I say.

She shakes her head again and lays her flat hand upon my heart. I cover it with mine. “Get better for you, Daniel. Just for you.”

I nod. I can’t get better. Not if I go through with my plans tonight. Oh, hell.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, her brow furrowing. “You suddenly looked lost.”

“Nothing,” I say, and I take a bite of my burger.

“You’re lying, but okay,” she says, and she starts to eat her fries.

I’m about ten bites in when I realize I can’t eat another bite of the burger. I blow out a breath. “I can’t do it. I wish I could.” I groan and push the plate away.

“I knew it!” she cries. She pumps a fist in the air and picks up my burger. She takes a bite out of it.

I snort. “You’re taking great big sips of joy from my pain, aren’t you?”