“Hmm.” I arch my eyebrows. “There’s a time for letting go. And that time is when it gets in the way of relationships.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
GEMMA
We do not have to become heroes overnight. Just a step at a time, meeting each thing that comes up … discovering that we have the strength to stare it down.
—ELEANORROOSEVELT
Of all the places I could have accidentally ridden to on a fire truck, it brought me here. To my sister’s house. To Karson. He doesn’t seem happy about it, but he did comfort me in his arms. Then he had a conversation with my sister. And now he’s striding across her lawn in my direction.
I suck in a deep breath and try to will away this shakiness of my limbs. I’m not sure if I’m trembling from the rush of the ride, the fear for Daisy, or withdrawals from my Karson addiction, but I hope that if my jitters don’t settle, they’ll at least get him to hold me again.
He stops a few feet away. “Do you need a ride?”
I glance over at Mac, climbing into the fire truck. I hadn’t thought about whether I’d be allowed to return the way I came or not. I also hadn’t worried about being stuck. I mean, this is my sister’s house. But if Karson’s offering … “Yes.”
He nods and leads me to his cruiser. It feels as familiar as Meri’s Jeep, and I hate to think this could be my last ride with him. But not every relationship ends in happily ever after, as Karson’s ex-wife must know.
He opens the door like a gentleman, and I drop inside. As he walks around to the driver’s side, I look out the window at my sister with her kids. She’s watching us, and I wonder what she thinks of Karson in person.
Could she be interested in him? She’s everything he wants, isn’t she? Like me, but not so worried about appearances. Plus, they’ve both been married before, so they’d be on even ground. Wouldn’t that just be a kick in the pants?
If they started dating, we’d be spending holidays together. It would be like she stole my homecoming crown all over again. But worse.
He joins me in the front, then radios into his precinct about taking me back to the fire station. I wasn’t paying attention to what he said, but the response he gets from the dispatcher includes a couple of dumbfounded expletives.
He studies me from across the console, the intensity in his steely blue eyes turning them the color of gunmetal. He lifts the radio to his mouth. “My thoughts exactly.”
The radio goes silent, leaving us to stare at each other. He’s so close, and the car smells sweet and spicy like he does. It wouldn’t take much to close the space between us. If we weren’t surrounded by emergency workers, I’d like to think he would.
He hooks the radio back in its cradle and starts the engine without a word.
My pulse thunders. “Are you angry?”
“Am. I. Angry?” He says this as if it’s a factual question, though his tone is tinged with emotion. He pulls away from the curb. “Do you mean am I scared, hurt, or frustrated? Because the answer to all those questions is yes.”
I sigh and lean back in my seat. “I was scared too.” My fear just doesn’t come out the same way in me that it comes out in him. I’m more likely to cry. “But why are you hurt? Why are you frustrated?”
His jaw shifts as he maneuvers down the hill. “It hurts that my ex didn’t only destroy what she and I had, but what I could have with someone else.”
His pain knifes through me, and my breath escapes like a popped balloon. “Karson.” He’s hinted at this pain before but never shared it so vulnerably. Except she’s not to blame. And actually blaming her is the very problem keeping us apart. Anything I do that reminds him of her will make him want to blame me.
He stops at a traffic light, and his tone deepens. “And I’m frustrated that your sister did such a number on you that you can’t even consider giving me a chance.”
I press a hand to my churning stomach in hopes of quelling the nausea. “It’s not about my sister. It’s not even about a second chance. We’re damaged puzzle pieces that don’t fit together anymore. I can’t—”
“I know,” he interrupts with a growl.
The light turns green. We drive in silence.
In what world would we have fit? I felt I’d known him the moment we met. I’d seen things to love about him that others hadn’t. But the truth is that someone else loved him first, and that hadn’t been enough for him, so how could I ever be?
“If we’d met first …” My voice breaks.
“It doesn’t matter now.” His voice goes hard. The rawness of his heart has been surrounded by a wall of stone. But it’s still there. Still raw inside. Still throbbing with the ache of this perceived rejection.
The thing is that I don’t want to reject him. I see so much potential in him. So much passion. So much strength and determination and protectiveness. But I just can’t live the rest of my life in someone else’s shadow. I’ve been there, done that.
