Page 51 of Entwined Hearts

Above us, I can hear theclickof car wheels driving over the seam in the freeway. “Did you really want to drive me home from Bishop?” I ask, even though I’m sure he’s going to tell me what I want to hear.

“Of course.”

I swipe my cheeks and hug myself, then sneak a glance at his steady eyes.

“I’ve always been straight with you,” he says.

“Why are you here?” I ask. “Really. Don’t bullshit me.”

He swallows. “I came to see you.”

My lips tighten. “Not Sabrina?”

He gives me a look. “Who?”

“The girl in the bar.”

He shakes his head. “I honestly didn’t even remember her name until you said it.”

I watch him as a massive dose of doubt goes to war with the idea he might be telling the truth. Sucking in a deep breath, I try to push away my fear.

“Is that why you ran? Are you angry?”

I suck in a breath, and the memories pop into my head. “No.”

He steps closer. This time, I don’t flinch. “What then?”

“It’s nothing,” I say, shaking my head to clear it.

“Anya,” he groans. “Keeping it all inside won’t make it go away. It’s probably making it worse. You scared the shit out of me just then when that car almost hit you.”

I hug myself tighter.

“Promise me you won’t do anything dangerous like that again,” he says in a stern voice.

How can I promise something like that when I climb thousands of feet of treacherous rock for a living?

When it’s obvious I’m not going to talk about it, Colby sighs. “Come here.” He gently wraps his arms around me.

I give in, knowing it’s risky. But it feels so good to be held, to feel safe. Only…am I safe?

After a long moment in which I close my eyes and feel the tension in my shoulders fade, I step back and blink at our grungy surroundings. “I don’t want to go back to the club.”

“Then tell me where you want to go, and I’ll take you there.”

I think of my quiet street and cozy bed with its fluffy comforter and soft sheets. “Home.”

“Come on,” Colby says, reaching for my hand.

* * *

When Colby’s truck engine sighs to a stop in my driveway, the quiet washes over me like waves lapping a sandy beach.

“Thank you,” I say, laying my head against the seat rest. It’s like I barely have enough energy left to get out of the truck, let alone unlock my door, undress, and climb into bed. I get a sudden flash of Colby undressing me, his hands reading my desires.

“Thanks for letting me take care of you,” he says.

A moment passes with only the sounds of crickets and the faint buzz of someone’s television. My legs feel like lead weights, and I wonder if he’s going to have to carry me to the door.

---