Page 25 of Truth Be Told
He huffs his disapproval and glances at me out of the corner of his eyes, his look giving the impression that he’s the all-knowing authority when it comes to train wrecks of a life. He says, “Your life isn’t a train wreck.”
I rise up on my knees. “How would you know? You won’t let me get anywhere close to you.”
“And there’s a good reason for that.”
“Well, why don’t you tell me, Cohen? What’s the deal with you?”
“What’s the deal with me?” he almost growls. He stops to calm himself before continuing, “What do you mean?”
I’m not ashamed of what I said. I didn’t say it to be mean or confrontational, and Cohen knows that. I said it to get more out of him, to keep him talking about it, because whatever it is, that is how we heal – and he knows that, too. I’d say it again if I had the chance.
“I mean,” I answer, “what’s your problem? What’s with the nightmares, and what’s with turning me away even though we both know you and I want this, and what the hell is with the mystery man you keep trying to be?”
He shakes his head. “I sure as hell don’t try to be mysterious. I helped you that night because it was the right thing to do, and that’s the only reason.” He breathes heavily again.
I pause. “Is it?” I might as well press him; we’ve come this far.
He doesn’t answer. He’s giving me nothing but more silence, mystery and non-answers.
I sit back on my ankles. It’s obvious that Cohen isn’t the kind of guy who will let me get anywhere with anything that resembles hostility, so I need to take a different approach. “I want to help you, Cohen,” I say softly.
The wind whips outside the closed window. The snow that’s keeping me here is showing no sign of letting up.
“I wouldn’t ever judge you,” I finish, the words so meaningful they exhaust me.
He lowers his head. “I know you wouldn’t.” He turns back to the window. “But you don’t want to hear about it.”
“What?”
“I said,” he looks at me, “you don’t want that on you.”
He’s wrong. I do want it, whatever it is. I want it because I want him, and I know that with a person automatically comes all their fears, their baggage, their deepest, darkest secrets... their nightmares. I want it because I know that with all that also comes the best of them.
But I don’t have the guts to say that out loud.
“Well,” he continues, his mind working to predict me, “even if you do,Idon’t want that for you.”
I try to hide my anxious breath. When it feels like everything has been said and done, I stand.
It breaks my heart that this might be the end of Cohen Thatcher for me. It doesn’t appear that he wants me here. At least, he definitely doesn’t want any kind of romantic relationship at the moment, and a friendship between us wouldn’t work because of what just happened here. Love is a thin red line. When it’s crossed, there’s usually no going back.
I pull the door shut behind me and dread that fact that I’m leaving him. He probably won’t get any more sleep tonight, although I have a feeling that has more to do with those nightmares than anything that just happened between him and I.
Of course, I could be wrong.
COHEN
I saw her again.
The woman from my dream.
The woman I couldn’t save from the sinking car.
She came to me again, shortly after I said goodnight to Stella, and almost immediately after I fell asleep. Except this time, she wasn’t waiting for me outside my bedroom window.
She was inside my room.
She stands at the foot of my bed, wearing nothing but a long, flowing white nightgown that blows with the breeze coming in through the window.
