His eyes swim with regret, and he reaches out to tuck a loose lock of hair behind my ear as I search his face to try and understand his unspoken words. “Colton, what are you—”
“Look at what I did to you this morning. The things I said. How I hurt you and pushed you away? That’s me. That’s what I do. I don’t know how to—shit!” he grits out before turning and looking out toward the street where a teenager is making his way down the sidewalk. I focus on the thunk-thunk of his wheels as they hit the lines in the sidewalk panels while I process what Colton is saying. He turns back around and the lines etched in his striking features cause me to close my eyes momentarily and take a deep breath to prepare for what’s coming next. For what I see written on his resigned expression.
“I care for you, Ry. I care about you.” He shakes his head, the muscle in his jaw pulsing as he clenches his jaw, trying to find the right words. “I just don’t know how to be...” He stumbles through words trying to get out what he wants to say. “You at least deserve someone that’s going to try to be that for you.”
“Try to be what for me, Colton?” I ask taking a step closer as he takes a step back, unwilling to allow him to break our connection. My bewilderment in regards to his confusing statements does nothing to squash the unease that creeps into the pit of my stomach and crawls up to squeeze at my heart. I part my lips and breathe in deeply.
His discomfort is apparent and I want nothing more than to reach out and wrap my arms around him. Reassure him with the physical connection he seems to need more than anything. He looks down again and blows out a breath in frustration while I suck one in.
“You at least deserve someone that’s going to try to be what you need. Give you what you want…and I don’t think I’m capable of that.” He shakes his head, eyes fixed on his damn keys. The raw honesty in his words causes my heart to lodge in my throat. “Thank you for being you…for coming back this morning.”
He finally says something I can latch on to, a diving board I have to jump from. “That’s exactly right!” I tell him. Using one of his moves, I reach out and lift his chin up so he’s forced to meet my eyes, so he’s forced to see that I’m not scared of the way he is. That I can be strong enough for the both of us while he works through the shit in his head. “I came back. For you. For me. For who we are when we’re together. For the possibilities of what we can be if you’ll just let me in…”
I run my hand over the side of his cheek and cradle it there. He closes his eyes at my touch. “It’s just too much, too fast, Rylee.” He breathes and opens his eyes to meet mine. The fear there is heartbreaking. “For so long I’ve…your selflessness is so consuming that it…” he struggles, reaching up to take my hand framing his face in his own. “I can’t give you what you need because I don’t know how to live—to feel—to breathe—if I’m not broken. And being with you? You deserve someone that’s whole. I just can’t…”
The words to the song from the car flash into my mind, and they are out before I can stop myself. “No, Colton. No.” I tell him, making sure his eyes are on mine. “You’re not broken, Colton. You’re just bent.”
Despite my saying it with serious intent, Colton belts out a self-deprecating laugh at the apropos corniness of me using a song lyric to try and express myself. He shakes his head at me. “Really, Ry? A song lyric?” he asks, and I just shrug at him, willing to try anything to break him out of this rut he keeps returning to. I watch as his smile fades and the concern returns to his eyes. “I just need time to process this…you…it’s just too…”
I can feel his pain and rather than just stand there and watch it manifest in his eyes, I opt to give him what he needs to confirm our connection. I step up to him and brush my lips against his. Once. Twice. And then I slip my tongue between his lips and connect with his. He won’t hear the words, so I need to show him with this. With fingertips whispering over his jaw and up through his hair. With my body pressed tight against him. With my tongue dancing with his in a lazy, decadent kiss.
He slowly lets go of the tension in his body as he accepts and gives in to the feeling between us. The desire. The need. The truth. His hands slide up to cup the sides of my face, thumbs brushing tenderly over my cheeks. Rough to soft, just like the two of us. He places a last, lingering kiss on my lips and then rests his forehead onto mine. We sit there for a moment, eyes closed, breath feathering over one another, and souls searching.
I feel settled. Content. Connected.
“Pit stop,” he whispers against my lips.
The words come out of nowhere, and I jolt at their sound. Come again? I try to pull back to look at him, but he keeps a firm grip on my head and holds me against him, forehead to forehead. I’m not sure how to respond. My heart’s unable to follow the path he’s just chosen while my head is already five steps ahead of him.
“A pit stop?” I say slowly as my thoughts race one hundred miles per hour.
He eases his hold on my head, and I lean back so I can look at him, but he refuses to meet my eyes. “It’s either a pit stop or I tell you that Sammy will drop by a set of keys for the house in the Palisades and we meet there from here on out,” he slowly lifts his eyes to meet mine “…to keep the lines from getting fuzzy.”
I hear him speak the words but don’t think I actually listen to them. I can’t comprehend them. Did he just actually tell me that after last night—after this morning—he’s going to pull this shit on me? Push me back in to the arrangement category of his life.