After she leaves, the silence returns, thicker now.Ledger finally stands from the chair, stretching slightly.“You said you wanted out of here for a bit?”
I blink.“I did?”
“Last night.”He shrugs.“You said the walls were closing in.”
That sounds like me.
He grabs his keys and nods toward the door.“Come on.”
The drive into town is quiet, but not awkward.
Ledger glances over once in a while, like he’s making sure I’m not in pain.Like he expects me to faint or disappear if he looks away too long.
I don’t hate it.
Actually, I like it.
Which feels dangerous for my heart.
“So,” I say, clearing my throat, “what did we usually do together?Before all this?”
Ledger doesn’t tense, no he freezes.
Completely.
“Depends what you mean,” he answers carefully.
I pick at the loose thread on my jeans.“Did we hang out?Go places?”
“Sometimes,” he replies vaguely, eyes fixed on the road.
“Like on actual dates?”
Silence.
Then without emotion, he states.“Not really.”
My stomach sinks.
“Oh.”
“That wasn’t on you,” he adds immediately.“It was me.”
That’s not the answer I expected.Not that I actually had any idea of what he would reply.
“How so?”
His jaw works.“Because we had an arrangement and I liked to keep boundaries.”There is a pause, an awkward one.“I wish I hadn’t.”
Something in my chest aches unexpectedly.“Did you want to and just didn’t change it?Or we didn’t have time?”
Another long pause.
“Yes,” he states but doesn’t elaborate.
The softness in his voice hits me like sunlight through a winter chill.Warm.Quiet.Honest.
I stare at him, trying to see if the answer exists somewhere in my missing memories.
