Chapter 12
Mid-September
Titus ran the lengthof the cotton bandana through his hands and smoothed the crease with his thumb.Moonlight cut sharp through the truck cab and carved Kyla’s features into angles.Her mouth looked relaxed but her spine stayed braced as she waited.
He tugged the cloth over her eyes slowly.Her scent filled the cab, warmed skin and woodsmoke from her hair.Her throat flexed but she kept still.Only her breath stayed uneven at the edge of a laugh she refused to release.
He took longer than necessary with the knot and let his fingers rest on the curve where her neck softened into her hairline.She gave the smallest twitch.The back of his hand brushed a coil that had worked loose from her twist.
“Too tight?”he asked.
Her head tipped slightly.“Don’t coddle me.”
Her voice stayed steady.One corner of his mouth lifted.His hands stilled.He did not know how to tell her that coddling had nothing to do with it.He had spent years bracing every muscle against giving anything away.With her tonight, he wanted her to have everything.
The air outside was cool.Nothing but September grass sweetened by the last week’s rain and the faraway scent of cattle moving downwind reached him.He started the truck.Gravel pinged against the undercarriage as he rolled out slowly enough for the dust to settle behind them.
He cracked the window halfway and rested his arm on the sill.The bite of night air sobered him.He saw the outline of her knuckles curled tight on her lap.She said nothing and gave him silence.He gripped the steering wheel until the tension in his chest loosened a notch.
They left the narrow county road and cut down an old wagon track that scraped between alfalfa stubble and new-cut wheat fields.Every rut and bounce traveled up his arm where it braced the window.He kept one eye on the moon, swollen and low.Sometimes he checked Kyla as if she might bolt, but she only breathed quiet and measured with her head tipped back against the seat.Her fingers moved once to smooth her skirt over her knees.
He stopped the truck at the edge of the auction barn.Tires crunched to a halt and the headlights pushed twin cones out into dust.Then nothing.The engine died.The fan wound down.Stillness rushed in.Space opened wide enough to make him conscious of the sound of his own breath.
He slid from the cab.His boots sank in the crushed dirt.He circled around and opened her door.The truck’s interior light caught the grain of her cheekbones.Her lips parted but she did not move until his hands came down gentle on her waist.
“Step out,” he said.
His voice carried nothing but function.She angled herself forward, searching for his touch.He took her hands in his and guided her to the ground.
Her boots met hard earth.For a moment neither of them let go.His thumb traced the spot where her pulse beat.She pressed back with her palm.He squeezed once and let the pressure mean what words could not.
He led her across the gravel.One step after another.He paced himself so their feet landed together and their bodies stayed tethered by touch.Hay seed scattered in uneven piles at the barn door.
Somewhere nearby, metal pinged as a weathervane spun once on the wind.He angled her toward the outside ladder and covered her hand with his at the first rung.
She reached upward sure and proud and refused the safety of his hold even now.He followed with his body close behind, ready but not interfering.The ladder creaked under their combined movement.
With each step, her shoulder brushed his chest and her back warmed the front of his jacket.When she hesitated, he rested his hand on the ridge of her hip and steadied her without words.
Moonlight spilled from the open loft bay and caught in the split wood above.The hayloft sat dark, but a faint glow from inside marked his preparations.At the top, she gripped the final rung.
Her breath came short and her chest heaved once with effort.He climbed high enough that his belt buckle nudged the back of her thigh.He had to let her move first.That cost him, but it was the point.
He swung a leg up and braced himself against the ledge.With both hands, he lifted her by the waist.Muscles flexed.She made a low sound of certainty and let him carry her those last few inches into the loft.
Titus’s hands shook when they should have stayed steady, but he tied the bandana slowly anyway and stayed careful at the knot behind Kyla’s head.Her exhale ticked over his skin in one quick tremor at her nape.
Then she tipped her chin and offered the last of her sight.The cab felt close even with the window half down.September air cut through them both and left the heat between their bodies private.
He let his knuckles rest there a second longer.The bandana felt soft against her scalp.
