She laughed some more until he was chuckling with her. It felt precious, refreshing, natural, to be sharing a laugh with him in spite of everything the world was throwing at them. The tingle of unease remained, a faint murmur that urged her to get on the road and keep moving.
“Tell me what the other food is that you can’t stand.”
“For my own protection, I will decline to state. Enjoy your eyeballs while I finish the rest of the crackers.”
They rested, ate, talked, and savored the comforts of the tiny trailer. Cullen plugged the sink drain, and together they gave Tot a bath. Tot chortled and splashed everywhere, playing with the plastic measuring cup Kit had found in the drawer while they checked her closely for any wounds or bruises.
It took both of them to rinse off her hair without getting water into her eyes. When Tot was clean and redressed, Cullen fixed her a fresh bottle, warming it in the microwave, which felt like the height of luxury. Kit eyed the powder, estimating they had enough for about six more. The count unleashed a flood of fresh worry, but at least they had snacks to keep her nourished. They sat shoulder to shoulder on the couch while he fed her.
Cullen rolled his neck and exhaled. “I love this place.”
She sighed. “I live in a trailer, and there’s nothing better.”
“Yeah? Maybe I’ll look into getting one on my property.”
“What about your cabin?”
“Probably not going to be there when I get back. I’ll rebuild, but it will take time. This is a sweet setup. Cozy, right? White-picket-fence worthy.”
She let herself imagine it for only a moment. A white picket fence meant safety and belonging. The way he was looking at her made that tingle of unease flare higher.
“Is your trailer like that?” he said casually. “Some place snug and scenic where you come home between your trips, I mean. A place to set down roots?”
“It’s a place to live,” she said quietly. “I don’t want any roots.”
He flinched. She’d struck a nerve, and it grieved her, but she had to still the wild thrumming of her pulse, hadto hold on to the slender string that knotted her insides together. “That’s not the life for me.”
He paused for a moment. “May I ask why not?”
Nothing would do but the truth. “I don’t want anyone to depend on me. It’s too much weight, and I’m not strong enough to sustain anyone else.”
“But you have been. Me and Tot, this whole time.”
“These circumstances”—she waved a hand—“aren’t real.”
“It’s as real as it gets.”
She shook her head. “Not to me. In the day to day, I don’t want the commitment of relationships, to know someone’s waiting for me to come home.”
“Do you feel that way because of what happened to your dad? Because he let you and your mother down by breaking the law?”
She stiffened, got up, arms wrapped around herself. “There were too many expectations, financial and emotional, from me and mom. He did what he had to do.”
Cullen shook his head. “No. He did something he knew was wrong for the right reasons.”
Fury clawed at her. How dare he pass judgment on her father? “Don’t talk to me about Dad.”
He didn’t shrink from her emotion. “Then let’s talk about you. You avoid relationships because you don’t want to fail someone else like your dad and your ex-husband did. So you cut yourself off and limit your future because you’re scared of hurting or being hurt.”
Scared? Hadn’t she recently survived a crash, a landslide, and nearly drowning in a tunnel? “You don’t know what’s best for me, Cullen.”
“Maybe I do.”
Her breath went shallow, irritation sparking to anger. “You’ve known me for a couple days. Stop trying to be some sort of hero in my life, okay?”
His face fell, the softness vanishing behind a mask of hard lines bracketing his mouth. He looked away from her, and his pain was hers, because she’d caused it. Because she’d probably ended whatever might have been between them with that one remark.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Not the first time I’ve heard that.”
