"And what exactly do we have, Diesel?" The question comes out sharper than I intended, but Vanessa's visit has rattled me more than I want to admit.
"You know how I feel about you." He reaches for me, but I step back.
"Do I? Because we've been careful not to put labels on this, remember? Your suggestion." The hurt I'm feeling leaks into my voice despite my efforts to contain it.
"Sandra, don't let her get in your head. That's what she wants." He tries again to touch me, but I maintain the distance between us.
"Then tell me who she is. Tell me why she thinks she knows you better than I do. Tell me what 'unfinished business' means." My voice rises with each demand. "Just tell me something, Diesel, because right now I feel like I'm completely in the dark about a major part of your life."
His jaw clenches, internal conflict plain on his face. "It's not something I'm proud of. Not something I talk about."
"Well, maybe you should start." I fold my arms across my chest, a physical barrier between us. "Because I'm falling in love with you, and I just realized I know almost nothing about your life before Crimson Hollow."
The L-word slips out before I can stop it, hanging in the air between us. Despite the tension, his expression softens momentarily.
"Sandra, I?—"
The ringing of his phone cuts him off. He glances at the screen, face darkening again. "I have to take this."
"Of course you do," I mutter, turning back to the Mustang, frustration building. I busy myself with the engine, trying to give him privacy while still within earshot.
His conversation is terse, one-word responses and tightly controlled anger. When he finally hangs up, he looks years older, weight settled on his shoulders that wasn't there this morning.
"That was her, wasn't it?" I ask, though I already know the answer.
He nods, jaw tight. "She wants to meet. Tonight."
"Are you going to?"
"I have to." His tone leaves no room for argument. "It's the only way to end this."
"End what, exactly?" I press, needing something concrete to hold onto.
He's silent for so long I think he won't answer. Finally, he sighs, shoulders slumping slightly. "I used to do street racing in Vancouver. But while in the circuit, I got involved with some people... did some things I'm not proud of." He meets my eyes directly. "Vanessa was part of that life. When I left, I cut all ties, started over. She wasn't happy about it."
It's still vague, but it's more than he's shared before. "And now she's here. Why?"
"Money, probably. Or leverage." His hands clench into fists at his sides. "It doesn't matter. I'll handle it."
"Let me come with you," I suggest, stepping closer. "Whatever it is, we can face it together."
He shakes his head firmly. "No. This is my mess, my past. I need to deal with it alone."
The distance between us suddenly feels like miles rather than feet. "So where does that leave us?"
"It doesn't change anything," he insists, reaching for me again. This time I let him pull me into his arms, though tension still thrums through me. "What I feel for you is real, Sandra. More real than anything I've felt in a long time."
I rest my head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. "Then don't shut me out. Whatever happened in Vancouver, whatever Vanessa wants, it doesn't change who you are now."
"You don't know that," he says softly, pain evident in his voice. "You don't know what I did."
"Then tell me." I pull back to look up at him. "Trust me with your past the way I've trusted you with mine."
Conflict wages across his face. "After tonight," he finally says. "After I deal with Vanessa, I'll tell you everything. I promise."
It's a compromise, not everything I want but better than nothing. "Okay," I agree. "Tonight. But I'm holding you to that promise."
He kisses me, a desperate edge to it that wasn't there this morning. Like he's afraid it might be the last time. The thought sends a wave of unease through me.
