“Crazy?” Her eyes widen and she laughs. “I guess so. At least I’m accepting it. Isn’t that what you want? You want me to admit that I’m nuts so you can have a clear conscience to fuck me?”
I’m breathing hard, my hand gripping the shifter knob so tightly my arm shakes and my knuckles turn white. My gaze drifts over her and lands on the tree tat on her wrist as the echo of her words punch me in the gut. I open my mouth to say something, but she laughs and shakes her head.
“Fuck this,” she bites out under her breath and throws the door open.
“Where the hell are you going?”
She doesn’t bother to respond. Just reaches behind the seat and grabs her pack, then slams the door.
Fuck! I bang my head against the back windshield and release a deep growl through clenched teeth. How did this happen? I run through the conversation again, trying to figure out where it went wrong. It’s like she plucked her last statement out of the thin fucking air and threw it in my face.
But even as I’m thinking that, I realize the truth. She’s been holding on to it for a long time. I lead her to believe I only wanted to screw her back in the day. And even though we’ve been cordial on this trip, and we’ve tried to bury that shit like we were just kids and it doesn’t affect us now . . . it does. And I just gave her the opportunity to unleash her pent up frustration. I pressed her while she’s wound tight over last night, and she fired off her reserve ammunition. It completely blindsided me.
Through the windshield, I watch as Sam walks backward, her arm outstretched, thumb up. My anger skyrockets. I can feel my blood pressure rising, building behind my eyes. I scrub my hands down my face and unleash a harsh curse into my palms.
With a deep breath, I suck up my pride and open the truck door. She can rail at me as much as she wants—as much as she needs. Just as long as she does it from inside the truck.
I sink my hands into my pockets and swallow the distance between us in long strides. A few feet from her, I say, “Will you please get back in the truck?”
Her gaze is fixed on the highway, her feet moving backward, carrying her away from me. “I was trying to let last night go. Just pretend it didn’t happen, Holden.”
I nod. “I know.”
“But you won’t let it go.” Her eyes cut to me before she returns to watching the road. There aren’t many cars on this highway, and the ones that do pass—all two of them—pass without a thought of stopping. “I can’t continue on like this. It’s just too much. I messed up, and I don’t want Tyler disappearing into that dark limbo because of me. I owe him more than that . . . than this.” She waves her hands around.
Before I open my mouth, I go over my words in my head. Make sure they don’t sound stupid before I spit them out. “Would it help if I told you something? Something that might help your conscience?”
And with that, she stops walking. Her arm lowers and she looks at me. We stand staring at each other, a mere foot between us, before she answers. “To be honest, I’m kind of terrified to learn any more secrets.”
I nod once, hard. Understandable. I wish I could wipe my mind clean with a giant can of white paint. Just start over. “All right. Then how about this? I don’t want to fuck you.”
She flinches at my words and harsh tone.
I take in a breath, building my courage. “Last night? That was all me, okay? I take full responsibly, and none of it is your fault.” I hold her gaze, making sure she sees the truth in my eyes. “You did nothing wrong, and because Tyler knew about us before”—I motion between us—“and blamed me the first time, rest assured, he’ll do so again.” I can’t believe I’m giving into her crazy, but I need her to get past this. “He knew about our kiss, and he never blamed you. Now,” I say, my feet eating the last bit of distance between us. “I’m the bad guy. You can get your sweet little ass back in the truck.”
I look down at her, and she swallows. “I just want him back.” Her lips tremble, and my heart constricts.
“I know,” I say. “I know. I do, too.” I release a heavy breath. “And I never wanted to do anything to hurt him or you. Not then, and not now. But I’m a selfish bastard. I would’ve fucked you six ways from Sunday, and I would’ve loved every second of it.”
Her body tenses, and a flash of something covers her eyes before a fleeting smile tugs at her lips. But she schools her face quickly.
“I’m a guy.” I shrug. “I come with the equipment, ready and willing, to fuck at the ready. Don’t put too much thought into it.”