Page 79 of Truck Stop Tempest

“Are you ever going to open up to me?”

Silence.

And in that quietude, I found anger, and courage, and clarity.

“We’re never going to work if—”

In a blur of heavy breath and angry eyes, I landed flat on my back, caged between a pair of trembling arms. “We’re never going to work if what? If I don’t tell you everything? Jesus Christ. Is this how it’s gonna be between us?”

“No,” came a weak reply from a pathetic voice that couldn’t have been mine, so pitiful even Tito cringed.

“You wanna know what keeps me awake at night?” His face softened. “I worry that we’ll never work if I do tell you everything. My secrets will hurt you. My truths will be the end of us. So, tell me, what am I supposed to do?”

“You’re supposed to trust me.” Her bottom lip quivered. Her gaze held steady. “I’m not a child, Tito. I can handle the truth. You should know that by now.”

I did know. She’d proven her strength time and time again. “Tuuli. My past, my truths? They’ll weigh too heavy on your conscience.” She was light, where I was darkness. She valued forgiveness, where retribution was my sustenance. She was grace. I was…Grim. A reaper.

I wanted her to know me. All the ugly. All the pain. But to share my stories would extinguish her light. Dull the shine in her eyes.

Truth be told, I was afraid. Terrified of extinguishing her spark, of never enjoying the blush that dotted her cheeks when we touched, or never hearing that small gasp every time I pulled her close, or of never feeling her shudder beneath me.

I was afraid.

I was the weak link in our…our…fuck…relationship.

I should have stayed away.

Vulnerability was painful. Made a man weak.

She lifted a hand, touched my face, smiled up at me. “Never mind. I’m sorry I asked.”

God. Now she was apologizing for my deficiencies. “I’m fucked up. I’m not a good person. I…”

Murder people.

“Your sins are no greater than mine. You saw past my wrongs. Why wouldn’t I do the same for you?”

She waited for a response. I had nothing to give. Coward.

“Okay.” She pushed at my chest. “Let me up.”

Tuuli was shutting down.

I pushed to my feet. Offered a hand to help her stand.

“We should head back. I need to get to work.” She searched my face again, a small flicker of hope still in her eyes.

Say something. Anything. Fucking coward.

Her posture changed, making her smaller somehow. Tuuli turned and headed toward home. I followed two paces behind, my throat, my ticker, tightening with every inhale and exhale.

In. One,two,three, four. Out. One, two, three, four.

My brave, angry girl ran all the way home, slowing only once.

She showered. I fried eggs. She dressed. I buttered her toast. She fixed her hair. I set the table. The silence, the unspoken words, bounced off the walls, gaining speed, building, rolling, electrifying the air around us.

I waited at the table. Tuuli emerged from the bathroom.

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