Page 32 of Break Me Like a Promise (Oak Valley)

Only that the last time she loved him, he didn’t want what she did.

She shook her head, or at least thought she did. It was soft, almost imperceivable, but the clenching of his jaw told her he had seen it.

“Not… yet.”

It was the best she could do in the space between want and need. She wanted him but needed to trust him. Trust that if they went down that path, she wouldn’t be left where she was ten years ago. And if everything she’d seen of him so far was any indication of who he was, it was safe to say he was right where she’d left him.

His gaze softened. “But not no.”

Ruby inhaled his warmth and sighed. “I don’t know, Colton.”

“Okay.” He took a step back, her body greeted with the cold he kept at bay. She hugged herself and looked around, not wanting to reveal the wetness in her eyes or the way her knees trembled.

“So. Floor.” He cleared his throat and moved around the bus, toeing the stack of rubber mat she pulled up before he arrived.

“Floor,” she said, clearing her throat. She hadn’t expected her voice to be hoarse. “Um, I’ve been removing the rubber glued to the plywood — everyone in the forums said it’s easier because then you can just drill out the plywood once you can see the screw-heads.”

Ruby watched him as he nodded and stared at the discarded rubber at his feet. She stopped herself from asking if he was okay, already knowing what the answer was.

“Do you have a trash pile for the bus stuff?”

“I’ve just been putting it in trash bags and setting them outside. I need to get a dumpster but will probably wait until the weather gets better.”

Colton didn’t say anything, but found the box of trash bags and started bagging the rubber flooring. Ruby chewed the inside of her lip before getting back to the rubber removal. Lost in the jamming of the crowbar beneath the rubber and the plywood, she startled at the hand on her shoulder.

“Let me have a go, you start unscrewing the plywood at the back.”

His voice was soft but firm, and she rose without replying. She mindlessly took the drill to the exposed screw-heads. The whir of the drill and slam of the crowbar ungluing the rubber was a nice foil for not needing to talk. Ruby lost track of time, not knowing how long they worked without speaking.

When she looked up from unscrewing the plywood and pulling up the boards she could, Colton was done with the rubber and walking towards her with the crowbar.

“Lunch?”

“Sure. Takeout or sandwiches here?”

“Delivery, my treat.”

“Colt —”

“Stop.”

Ruby looked him in the eyes. Normally his commands would light a fire in her, rile her into pushing back. But there was something beneath her tiredness that kept her from that. Something that echoed the feeling of losing a battle before it’d even begun.

“Okay. But then you choose where from.”

Ruby turned and hopped out the back of the bus, needing breathing room from him.

30

Colton sat on the grimy plywood floor as the crunch of tires echoed down the driveway. He hopped out and paid the delivery guy, taking the large paper bag with tacos, flautas, chips, and salsa. Ruby had walked out and stayed clear while he ordered and waited, but she had to eat sometime. He knew they were both sending mixed messages. How do you revisit the only love you ever had, and after ten years? He was struggling to fight the magnetic force that drew his body to hers. He wasn’t the same person, but he was also having a hard time seeing how she’d changed. She was looking to bolt as soon as she was able to, just like she had when they were eighteen. And she wasn’t looking to wait for him to catch up.

He walked to the front door while the scent of Mexican food haunted him. He knocked, and the door flew open to reveal freckled cheeks and hazel eyes shooting lasers. The halo of curls framing her face sparked a smile he tried to hide.

“Hungry?” He lifted the bag, watching her flick her eyes to the grease forming on the outside.

“Fine,” she grumbled, rolling her eyes and walking further into the house.

Colton stepped inside, still startled at how very much the same everything was. Even when they ate inside last time he was here, he could’ve sworn even the books on the old shelves hadn’t changed. Like he’d been shoved into a time capsule from his adolescence, and wasn’t sure if he enjoyed the nostalgia or felt suffocated by it.

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