Page 24 of Memories of Us

“How was your walk?”

“You're an asshole, you know that? How in the hell did I put up with you as long as I did?”

“Good point. How long was that again?”

I sighed and leaned the seat back to get comfortable. “Hell, two years? Three maybe.” Out of the corner of my eye, I caught him staring.

“How old are you?”

I popped up and reached for the push start button. “You hungry? Whataburger is—”

He swatted my hand away and gripped my chin, making me face him. “Beks. Answer me.”

“Or?” I said breathlessly.

“The same as I said before. I'll whip your ass.”

Heat filled my cheeks. “You'd be wise to threaten a punishment I wouldn't enjoy.”

The grip on my chin tightened a fraction, and his lips turned white as he pressed them together. Tension pulsed in the cab, the heat building between us.

“Thirty,” I whispered. “I'm thirty.”

That snapped him out of the lust-filled haze in his blazing green eyes. “Wait.” Behind his eyes I saw that mind of his working out the math. This should be fun.

“Yep,” I said with a small grimace.

“Fuck! What the hell was I thinking!”

“Now you see why everyone was... upset when they found out we were together. Especially my father.”

“Please tell me my math is wrong that when we first got together... Please tell me I didn't sleep with a fifteen-year-old.”

“You didn't.”

“Thank fuck.”

“We started hanging out when I was fifteen. I was seventeen when we first had sex.”

“Not great—”

“Or legal.”

“Better than fucking a fifteen-year-old when I was what, seventeen? Eighteen?”

“Eighteen.”

While he processed the new-to-him information, I adjusted the seat and saved the settings. “I love the truck. I don't deserve it, and every rational thought is telling me not to accept it. But I want it.” The whine at the end and the dramatic pouty lip were an attempt to ease our growing tension.

“It's yours, so stop fighting it. Once I get the title, I'll switch it over to your name and have it sent to you.”

Right. Sent to me. Because he was leaving again, and this week with him was only a reprieve from life. Too soon I'd be shoved back into reality, without him.

Searching for a distraction from the sad thought, I focused on the clock. Still fifteen more minutes until the store opened.

“When did you join the army?” I asked, hoping to take the conversation off us.

“After rehab. I knew it was my only shot to stay clean. And I have. Stayed clean that is.”

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