Page 95 of Truck Stop Tempest

He’d allowed me another glimpse of a heavily guarded soul, a costly confession.

I leaned back, tapping his chin like he often did to me, urging him to meet my eyes. “There’s my brave, untouchable man.”

I kissed him again. Because I could. Because he needed me.

His gaze aimed somewhere over my shoulder, unfocused and solemn. Then he smiled. “That was three kisses.”

“I’ve missed your lips.”

His face crumpled, agonized before his mask fell back into place. “Can I stay for a while?”

I wanted nothing more, despite trying so hard to hold my ground. “Would you? Until I fall asleep?”

“Shit, Bunny. Of course. Anything. Anything for more time with you.”

I woke three times that night. The last, around three a.m. Tito lay on his back, one hand behind his head, the other lying across his chest, thick eyelids fanned over his olive skin. Sleeping like a baby.

I’d never slept so good in my life.

Shortly after four-thirty, I kissed my bunny, slipped out of bed, and drove home, anxious to hit the open road. I changed into my running gear and fell quietly into the zone, losing myself in the steady rhythm of heavy breaths, the punch of rubber against wet pavement, and the deafening swoosh, swoosh, swoosh between my ears.

I ran until the sun winked at me over the horizon, then headed back. After a long shower, I stood at my bedroom window. The lake was still, an eerie shade of blue, daunting, like something deadly lurked just below the surface. Overhead, a cloud loomed, black and pregnant with threats of doom, sending an icy chill to my marrow.

I turned to face my rumpled bed. It too haunted me. Large, empty, cold. I’d wanted room to breathe. But, hell, the whole space I occupied, despite its luxury, shrunk around me, and I longed for the small basement apartment, more accurately, the woman I’d left sleeping there, the beauty who’d breathed life back into my soulless carcass.

I was so fucked. Fucked for her. Fucked for caring. Fucked for letting someone in, for wanting so goddamn bad to share my life with Tuuli. Fucked because I knew what I needed to do to be with her, and what if I wasn’t capable?

Son, I love you. Come with me. Everything will be okay.

My cell buzzed. Tango’s mug filled the screen.

I tapped accept, shaking the voice from my head. “Hey, pretty boy.”

“Morning, Grim.”

“Grim? Really?”

A fat bumblebee banged against the window, bouncing twice before falling out of sight.

Tango chuckled. “If the shoe fits.”

“Have you heard from Tuck?” I asked, rifling through the closet for a clean shirt.

“I did. Things are in motion.” He yawned into the receiver. “Tito. I’m proud of you, man.”

“For what?”

“For doing the right thing. Handing that intel over, rather than going after Carver yourself.”

The black cloud followed me into the bathroom, dulling the white tiles. “I want to rip that sick fucker to shreds, Tango. I almost made a trip out there last night.”

“What stopped you?”

I stared at my reflection, roughing a hand over my jaw. I needed a shave, but Tuuli seemed to like the rough texture, and damn how I wanted her to keep on liking me. “A goddamn little bunny. That’s what stopped me.”

“She’s no bunny. Haven’t you figured that out by now?”

Yeah. I had.

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