“I would never hurt you.”
My throat gets tight. “I know.”
He takes a step toward me then immediately freezes. “Then why?” he rasps.
I should lie.
But I can’t, not here, not in our place. “Because I’m scared of what you make me feel.”
His eyes close.
Another should—as in I should leave it there, leave it alone.
Let this fade away.
If I asked, I know Colt would disappear from my life.
I just…part of me can’t let him go.
“You played well tonight,” I murmur.
His eyes fly open and the warmth in them, even partially hidden by the night is…about the furthest thing from scary as I’ve ever experienced. “Thanks.”
We stand there for a moment, gazes locked.
Then I blurt, “Hot dogs?”
He starts and I swear if it wasn’t so dark, I think I would have seen his cheeks going red. “There’s a new place in town,” he says as he moves to the back of my car and opens the hatch. “I thought we could try it.”
I still.
I see that he’s gone still.
Then I breathe.
Live.
“If I agree to try it will you stop with the tires?”
He straightens so quickly he hits his head on the open trunk. “Fuck,” he mutters, shifting out from beneath it. “What did you say?”
I just lift my brows. “Tires, Colt.” Then add when his face goes blank, “Like I said, I’m not stupid.”
He’s still, but only for a moment.
Then he comes close again, slow and steady…and still not blocking my exit route.
Maybe that care should make me mad—wasn’t I just thinking I don’t want to be a burden, an object to be looked after? I certainly don’t want this man to see me as a fragile, limp dishrag of a human.
But…I’m not mad.
Instead, I’m…touched.
That he’s looked closely enough to see through my walls, to understand that, though I may want to be free of my past, it lingers.
And so, he takes care with me.
So yeah, not mad. Touched.
