Page 71 of Truck Stop Tempest

She silenced me with a raised palm. “Just be patient with him. Please. He’ll come around. He’s stubborn, and tough, and scary as hell. But he’s also fragile. He needs to break before he can heal. He’s going to fight the change. He’ll try to hold his cracks in place. When they start to fall, it will piss him off. That’s when he’ll hurt you. That’s when you’ll have to love him the hardest.”

I understood more than she could imagine. I struggled to hold my own pieces together. Some days, I wanted to let go, let my pieces fall and shatter.

I’d yet to take a sip of my coffee. Since I hadn’t a word to say in response to Aida’s confession, I lifted the cup to my lips and forced myself to hold her gaze.

My hands shook. My body hurt. My heart exploded over and over behind my breastbone.

She tilted her head, studying me with a thoughtfulness I never would have expected. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“The night your brother died. It wasn’t your first time, was it?”

I shifted, dropping my feet to the floor. “My first time?”

“Witnessing violence. Murder.”

I shook my head. “How did you know?”

She took a sip. Swallowed. “It didn’t break you.”

Because there wasn’t much left of me to break.

“You’re so much like this town, Tuuli.”

“I don’t understand.”

“On the outside, Whisper Springs is small. Gorgeous. Picture perfect. But you get to know her, her people, her quirks, you see the secrets she hides. The darkness that gets swept under the rug. My gut tells me there’s a novel’s worth of dark and gritty hiding behind that meek little mask you wear.”

I’d been right to fear Aida. She saw everything.

“I grew up surrounded by hate, and violent, angry, lost men. I’ve witnessed my share of violence.”

“We’re not too different, you and I.”

I resisted the urge to throw my arms around the scary woman. If she only knew how much her words meant to me. “How’s that?”

“We were both born into lives that would crush most. Difference is, my father raised me to fight for my life, take what I wanted. I get the feeling your father taught you to submit for survival, to take what was given, good or bad. Am I wrong about that?”

“I wouldn’t call what he did teaching. I was forced to submit. Fighting was never an option. Survival wasn’t part of the equation.”

“You want to learn to fight?”

“I don’t like violence.”

“I don’t think you understand. I don’t mean fight back…I mean fight for your life. To never feel helpless again.”

“I would like that.” My vision blurred. I swiped at my eyes with the back of my hand.

Aida nodded, waiting for me to gather my composure. “Do you want me to stay until Tito gets back?”

“No.”

She pushed from the table. “Will you call if you need help?”

“I don’t think Erik will show his face around here. Not tonight anyway.”

Aida laughed. God, even her laugh was gorgeous. “I don’t mean with Erik. I mean if you need help with Tito.”

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