Page 102 of Always Meant for You
“Can I say one thing?” I ask.
He keeps his eyes on the road and doesn’t reply.
He’s ignoring me. I get that he’s in pain, but his demeanor snaps something inside me, and I can’t stay quiet.
I shift back into my seat, my heart hammering. “I know your grandmother is all you have left. And I know it must hurt. If you ever want to talk, I’m here.”
No reaction.
This is who he became after that day in the rain.
That searing cut of rejection slices clean through me.
“Or I guess you could clam up and ignore me altogether. You’ve perfected the art of shutting me out. I was hoping things might be different now. I thought we might be different. I guess not.”
The truck jerks as we reach the gravel lot. He pulls in, slams on the brake, and throws the gearshift into park.
I gasp, barely able to steady myself.
“Does everything have to be a fight with us, Mabel?” His voice isn’t harsh. It’s quiet and raw around the edges.
I glance at his hand braced on the dashboard. I miss holding it. Miss the steadiness of it.
“I don’t want to fight with you, Cal. That’s not what I’m trying to do. I just hate how easily you block me out. It makes me wonder if you’d rather I disappear.”
“You think I block you out and want you to disappear?” His tone is rough, almost disbelieving.
Frustration surges through me. “What would you call what happened? How would you characterize the last decade we’ve known each other? I’ll tell you. You’ve completely ignored me.”
Before I can take another breath, he reaches for my hands, holding them tight in his. He’s shaking—shoulders tense, jaw set, trembling with emotion.
“Christ, Mabel, I have never ignored you,” he says, voice cracking. “I could never ignore you.”
How can he say that?
I shake my head. “Call it whatever you want, Cal, but you hurt me.”
“I know, and I’m sorry,” he rasps.
His hands stay wrapped around mine, and the air shifts. Heavy. Intimate. It’s only us and years of closeness and distance crashing into one unbearable moment.
His grip tightens, and his gaze drops to my mouth.
I feel it everywhere—the heat below my belly, the ache behind my ribs, the need to press my body to his. I want his mouth on mine. I want him to tilt my face up and kiss me with no apology. No hesitation. Only need.
His thumb strokes across mine, and I stop breathing.
I want to be the reason he loses control. I want to be the only thing that undoes him.
I search his face. “Help me understand. Explain to me why you work so hard to push me away. You know that’s what you’re doing.” My voice barely rises above a whisper, but I don’t flinch. I don’t fill the silence. I wait.
“Mabel, it’s not that simple.” His shoulders tense, and the words land like they cost him. His grip on my hands doesn’t ease. If anything, he holds tighter.
My heart is in my throat. “Just tell me what’s going through your head. You owe me that much.”
He holds my gaze.
One second passes, then another.
