Page 97 of Truck Stop Tempest

“But you hate church. And I understand why you don’t want to go, and I would never want you to feel like you have to do this. Ever.”

“I’ll deal. Don’t worry about me.”

I couldn’t swallow past the gooey ball of emotion stuck mid-esophagus, choking me, causing my eyes to fill with pesky liquid.

I love this man.

He loves me, too.

I managed to croak a pathetic thank you, then focused my attention out the window because if I let those tears fall, every other part of me would crumble to dust.

The church service was beautiful, even more so with Tito by my side. He held my hand for an hour and ten minutes, not letting go until I was safely tucked back into his car. Yes, he was tense, and yes, I could tell his mind had been elsewhere through most of the sermon. But he was with me. He was there, for me.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For last night. For this morning.” For always being there. For knowing when I needed him, I left unsaid.

Actions speak louder than words.

Tito’s actions were a roadmap leading straight to the wild, bleeding heart hidden deep in his battered soul.

I wanted to ask him, whyme? I wanted to ask about his childhood. His parents. I wanted to know what happened to the priest who abused him. I wanted to know what made him tick.

His hands tightened around the steering wheel like he could read my mind, like he was bracing for more questions, more demands. A kiss for a secret. A confession for my time. A truth for my heart.

I had no doubt he would do his best to meet any ultimatum I threw his way.

I wouldn’t push. Not today. Maybe never again. I was a woman worth fighting for, but Tito was worth fighting for, too. As much as I was. Maybe more. Maybe no one had ever fought for him. He’d fought for me since the day we met.

He has to break before he can heal.

I was no longer wholly convinced that was the case.

I wanted Tito. The whole of him. The parts of him. Whatever he could offer.

So, I didn’t ask him any of the things I wanted to know. Instead, I said, “You are so fucking beautiful.”

His face broke into an infectious grin. “Did you just say fuckin’?”

There was nothing more gut-wrenching in the world than Tito’s smile.

Damn. That smile would be the death of me. And when she laughed? I could touch the fucking moon.

When we pulled onto the street, she cleared her throat and announced, “I’m going to sign up for classes this fall at the community college. I’ve already talked to Slade about it. She told me she’d work around my school schedule, so I can work as little or as much as I need.”

Tuuli surrounded by horny college assholes. Fuck. That damn organ in my chest beat with the force of a jackhammer. I wanted to drag her to my castle and lock her away, keep her all to myself. Instead, I smiled and said, “I’m proud of you.”

Swear to Christ, her face turned twenty different shades of red.

I drove her home and waited on the couch while she changed. When she came out of the bedroom, rocking those rosy cheeks, and swaying hips, I wasted no time.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” she complied, too fast, and too damn breathless.

“No,” I chided, motioning her to come closer. “That’s not how it works anymore.”

---