She looked at me for the first time since Kendall’s house. “I’m sorry.”
I met her gaze and the despair in her eyes gutted me. “I’m not askin’ for an apology.”
She turned back to window. “Then what do you want from me?”
Fuck. Everything? “How honest do you want me to be?” Her question wasn’t an accusation, it was as honest as she was and it made me want to lay everything out despite the circumstances.
“Completely.”
She’d paused with her answer. It was only a fraction of a second, but it was enough for me to notice it. Any other circumstances, I probably would’ve held back. “I wish you weren’t grieving for him.”
She curled in on herself. “I can’t give you that.”
“I know.” Fuck, I knew. She was withdrawn as hell. “But I wish you trusted me.”
“I do.”
No, she didn’t. “You didn’t trust me when you walked out of my house and got on his bike. And you sure as shit didn’t trust me when you offered yourself in exchange for me tendin’ to his wounds.”
Her back stiffened and her voice turned defensive. “I didn’t have a choice.”
“Yeah, you did.” And I couldn’t help but think where we’d be if she’d trusted me in the first place but now shit felt too late to come back from.
For a moment, she didn’t respond. “I’m not sorry for trying to protect you,” she quietly admitted.
How the fuck did I argue with that even though I knew in my gut I was right? “There’s no good way for me to respond to that.”
“Then don’t.”
She didn’t say it with malice or irritation in her voice, she simply stated it like she said most everything else and I had no idea how to take it. I rubbed my hand over my eyes. “You are single-handedly the hardest person I’ve ever tried to get a read on.”
She sat perfectly still in her seat. “There’s nothing to read. I say what I mean.”
“I know that, darlin’, I do. And I appreciate it, but you hardly ever put any emotion behind your words and that leaves me guessin’ at a lot. I don’t think I’m even close to scratching the surface of what goes on behind those gorgeous eyes of yours.”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“The compliment.”
Christ. I shook my head and a smile tried to lift the side of my mouth. “I’d compliment the fuck outta you if I thought it’d get me somewhere.”
She looked at me and her stare lingered before she spoke. “You swear a lot when you’re tired.”
“I do a lot of things when I’m tired.” Like pour my sorry-ass heart out to a woman I’d never understand.
She nodded like she knew what I was thinking. “You seem unaffected by what happened tonight.”
I exhaled, not expecting her to go there. “Straight up, no bullshit?”
“I thought that’s what we agreed on.”
I glanced at her but she was studying the road in front of us. “We did, before.”
“I still want the truth.”
No change in her tone or body language, I couldn’t tell what she wanted. “I’m not unaffected,” I said honestly. “But when you’ve spent enough time in a shithole like Afghanistan and you see your brothers get blown to hell, you learn to compartmentalize. Tonight was fucked every which way I can name but in the end, I’m sitting in a car with you and you’re in one piece. For that, I’m fuckin’ grateful.”
Her gaze dropped to her lap and her shoulders moved with a sharp inhale.
“Siren, I know you want me to say I’m sorry for Randy but I’m not gonna. I’m sorry you’re hurtin’, I am, but whatever history you had with him doesn’t give him a pass for firin’ a fuckin’ twelve-gauge buckshot within five feet of your head.” My knuckles tightened on the steering wheel just thinking about it.
“He wasn’t aiming for me,” she said softly.
“Intent ain’t worth shit when reality interferes.”
Her voice turned whisper quiet but her hands fisted in her lap. “He didn’t have to pull that trigger. I’m angry with him too.”
That was a loaded statement I wasn’t ready to touch. “I can only imagine.”
She turned back toward the window. “I’m not sure you can.”
“Fair enough.” I let her have her distance as we drove down the deserted highway for a few miles. “You wanna talk ’bout it, I’m here. No judgment, I’ll listen.” It was the only thing I could think to offer her.