He studies me a few seconds longer, then?—
“Can’t afford to lose it, don’t hand it over,” he repeats. “That the reason I never stood a chance? Always got one foot out the door, half’a you already gone?”
A fierce silence smothers the room.
I try to speak, but my voice rebels.
I can’t find a single word.
They’re all here, stacked in my mouth,
picking fights with each other.
He waits, watching me crack slowly.
His knee bounces once, then stops.
“I know you didn’t come here to shoot the shit,” he says. “So let’s not waste time pretendin’ this is casual.”
I lift my chin to open my mouth again,
but it won’t.
My head shakes.
I’ve never felt so exposed in silence.
He leans forward, forearms on his knees,
gaze locked on mine.
Not to corner me,
but to catch me.
“Look—
“you don’t owe me a damn thing,” he says.
“But you showed up. I’m here.
“So talk to me, Allison.
“Whatever you gotta say, I wanna hear it.
“All of it.
“No bullshit.”
He has no idea what he’s asking for.
My spine straightens.
My panic drains.
The walls lock in.
I inhale. I exhale.
