Page 52 of Shattered

Callum wasn’t amused. He stared at her for a few moments, letting what she’d said sink in.

“You ride the bus to and from every shift?”

“Yes.”

“What about class?”

“It depends. If mine and Kristin's schedules line up, we ride together. If she has other stuff to do, then I take the bus.”

“What about that night when you met me at Social?”

“I drove Kristin’s car that night.” She wasn’t sure where this conversation was headed.

“The bus isn’t safe.”

“It’s perfectly safe. I’ve been taking it for years.”

Years meaning since she was twelve. She had to admit that back then it had been a little questionable, and there were a few times that she’d been frightened, but she’d always had a can of pepper spray and a carving knife hidden in her bag.

“Here.” He reached out to hand her his phone. “Put your number in my phone and just let me know your schedule and I’ll be there.”

“Absolutely not.”

“It's better than riding the bus and getting kidnapped.”

She rolled her eyes at his concern. “I’m not going to get kidnapped. If I wasn’t kidnapped while riding it at twelve and thirteen, I think I’m safe now.”

“You rode the bus alone attwelve years old?”

She mentally cringed. She didn’t mean to divulge that, but it just came out.

“Yes, and it was perfectly safe.”

“Your parents let you ride at twelve? What were they doing that they couldn’t take you to and from places?”

She swallowed, not sure how to respond, so she abruptly changed the subject.

“Can I ask you a question?” she blurted out.

“You just did.”

“Are we going to just continue to toy back and forth with each other?” She shuffled on her feet, not sure how to act when voicing such a direct question.

“I don’t want that,” he admitted.

“Me neither.” She wanted to wait for a second before continuing, but she couldn’t help it. “Whatdoyou want?”

His answer was immediate. “Something I can’t have.”

“Why can’t you have it?”

“Because it’s too good for me. I would ruin it.”

She stood still for a moment as she leaned against the truck she hoped was his.

“Do you honestly think that’s the truth? Or are you telling yourself that so you don’t have to deal with the potential disappointment of that thing, whatever it is,” she asked, despite knowing damn well he most likely meant her, “not wanting you back in the end?” At that, he stilled then ran his hands through his hair.

“It doesn’t matter what the reason is.”

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