Page 49 of Craving Francesca

My chest tightened as I stared at the house. I didn’t want to go in there. I didn’t want to answer her questions. I didn’t want to explain why I wasn’t at work. I didn’t want to have the conversation that I’d been putting off for weeks.

I wasn’t ready. Not yet.

“Hey,” Gray called softly. “What is it?”

I couldn’t impose on him anymore. It wasn’t fair. He didn’t owe me anything, and I’d been using him shamelessly.

“Lou’s home,” I croaked out, shrugging my shoulders. I couldn’t explain further than that. My throat felt like it was closing up.

Without a word, Gray sped back up.

“What are you doing?” I rasped as we passed the house.

“You don’t want to go home,” he said calmly. “So, I won’t bring you home.”

“You’ve already done more than—”

“Quiet,” he ordered. “Lay back and close your eyes for a minute. You look ready to pass out.”

I did what he ordered, even though I wanted to argue. I was just so tired. I felt like I’d been living in limbo for months instead of weeks, unable to sleep, forcing myself to eat and go to work even though everything inside me rebelled. Just the nausea that I’d been dealing with had been exhausting enough. I thought I’d feel better once the abortion was over, and I did in some ways—but the turmoil that I’d been living with hadn’t disappeared the way I’d hoped.

I’d passed one hurdle, but the rest were still out there. Waiting.

“Where are we?” I asked, opening my eyes as we pulled off the road and onto a gravel driveway.

“My place,” he said, looking over at me. “Okay?”

“I didn’t know you owned property.”

“Just a few acres,” he replied as we rolled slowly down the driveway. The trees were overgrown and gorgeous with the light spilling through them.

“You live in a trailer?” I asked, leaning forward to look out the window as the metal shell came into view.

“It’s a camper,” he corrected.

“Fine, a camper.”

“Don’t need much space.”

The camper was set back in a small clearing, and there was a black truck parked beside it.

“You own a truck?” I asked in disbelief.

If I could’ve guessed at any of these things, all of my answers would’ve been wrong.

“It fuckin’ snows here,” he said with a scoff. “You think I’m on my bike in the snow?”

“I’ve never seen you driving that truck,” I argued.

“How many times have you seen me on the road?” he countered, making my mouth snap shut. He had a point.

We pulled up near a pop-up tent that had some lawn chairs under it, and I followed Gray as he climbed out of the car.

Everything was quiet. I paused for a moment to appreciate it. I’d always lived in town where the sound of cars and people was constant.

“You comin’?” Gray asked as he opened the door to the camper.

I didn’t know much about camping or all the things that went with it, but even I knew that the silver campers that looked like giant toasters were expensive. I followed him up the stairs and looked around. To the right of the door was a leather couch that looked like it had never been used. To the left was the kitchen and a tiny dinette. Beyond that was a small hallway, and at the end was a large bed. The entire thing was spotless. A few dishes sat in a drainer on the counter, and a small box of tools or something was pushed under the dinette table, but otherwise everything was neatly put away. Even the floor was clean.

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