Page 76 of Come Back to Me

Ducking into the back seat, I pull it out, well aware that she’s struggling to clamber onto the truck bed.

All the while, those goddamn bikes taunt me with their rattle.

When the truck dips a little, I know she made it on board.

“You should have waited,” I chide, unfolding the blanket.

“Nah. I wanted to get the best spot first.”

Because it’s such a T thing to say, I chuckle. “Which is the best spot?”

“The side farthest from the lake.”

“Ah, so I’ll get the bug bites? I don’t know. You’re tastier than me.”

“Y-You think so?”

I don’t answer.

I can’t.

Instead, I lope into the box and sit beside her once I tuck the blanket over her.

“Aren’t you cold?”

Situating myself, I shake my head.

I’m the exact opposite, Calamity Jane.

“Why are you sitting up like that? It’s awkward. Lie back with me. You can’t see the stars properly that way.”

I rub my beard. Consider the odds of this going south hella fast. But I still take the dive and rock backward until I’m beside her for real this time.

The feel of her along my length has me gritting my teeth while she tortures me further by tucking the blanket around me too.

“You don’t talk a lot,” she murmurs as she fusses, and I stoically stare at the stars.

“I talk plenty.”

“You don’t.”

“Do.”

“Don’t.”

I sigh. “Used to.”

“Used to?”

I nod. “Then, I stopped.”

“Why?”

“You do what I’ve done, seen the effects of it, you…” It’s a coincidence the stars blur. “…stop.”

She grows still. “PTSD?”

“No.”

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