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I’d lay awake at night and wonder.
What she’d look like, right before I did it.
What it would feel like.
What she would taste like.
How it would feel when she kissed me back.
I wanted to know.
I wanted to kiss her.
But I didn’t.
Couldn’t.
I told myself it was because I didn’t want to scare her, but really, I’m the one who was scared. I was scared shitless because what if kissing her felt wrong. What if I kissed her and I stopped wanting.
Stopped feeling.
Even worse, what if I did feel. What if kissing her was everything I’d hoped. What if kissing her somehow fixed me. Made me real.
And what if she took it all away.
She thought it was because I didn’t want her. That there was something wrong with her when really, it was all me. I’m the one who was fucked up.
Still am.
So fucked up that even though I know how this is going to end for me, I can’t stop. I can’t walk away from her. Even though I know she’s going to use me and hide me and refuse to let me get close, I won’t be able to say no.
After I left her place last night, I drove around for hours, trying to get my head right. Figure out how I’m going to make this work. Keep seeing her, fucking her, without dying every single time I touch her. At around 2AM I came to the cold, hard truth.
I can’t.
It’s either pull out of this nosedive now, while there’s still a goat fuck’s chance in hell that I’ll make it out without losing my goddamned mind, or I keep diving and hope the crash kills me.
Because if I keep chasing this thing with her, it’s going to end ugly.
There’s no way it can end any other way.
She’s not going to stay. She won’t take me with her. She’s not going to love me. She’s not going to let me love her.
Not the way I want to.
So, it’s not really a question of if.
It’s just a question of when.
By the time Tess gets back from lunch, I have three more trucks serviced and parked out on the tarmac, waiting for pick-up.
“Brought you food,” she says, tossing a bag onto the workbench. “Take a break and eat, let me finish this one.”
“Can’t.” I pop off the fuel filter and toss it in the trash. “I’m supposed to take Henley to see her old man in a few hours, so I need to get this shit done as soon as possible.”
When she doesn’t answer me, I lift my head and look at her. She’s standing a few feet away, watching me the way you watch someone who has a terminal illness. Like she’s trying to figure out when I’m going die. It bothers me, but instead of getting into it with her, I give her a grin. “I’m good,” I say, nodding my head, even though it’s the biggest fucking lie I’ve ever told her. “I promise.”
She studies me, lip ring caught between her teeth. She wants to believe me, but she knows better. “Let me take her,” she says, shaking her head. “I know where to—”