Page 13 of Holding His Hostage
She propped herself up on her elbow. “Why not? We’d be husband and wife. We wouldn’t have to sneak around when we got back. Your mom would let me live here, or she’d help us afford a place until we got on our feet. I’d never have to go back to my dad’s. We could make a real home.”
“We’re a little young to get married.”
“Plenty of people get married at our age.”
He unhooked his arm from around her shoulders and sat up. “You’re serious.”
“Of course I am.”
“Jo, you know I love you. But I don’t want to get married. Not yet, anyway. Are things really that bad at your dad’s?”
She felt like she’d been slapped. “You know the answer to that.”
“Your uncle’s been gone a long time.”
“That isn’t the point! I don’t want to be there.”
“And I don’t want to go to basic and leave you, but we have to find some way to get through this. Even if it’s not ideal, it’s an option.”
“That isn’t fair.”
“It isn’t fair to assume my mother will pay for us to live if we got married. Jesus, Jo, how can we get married when we can’t even support ourselves?”
Her cheeks flushed hot. “We would find a way to make it work.”
“On somebody else’s dime. No, thank you.”
“That’s all you can think about? The money?”
“Easy for you to say.”
“What does that mean?”
He ran a hand through his hair. “Forget it.”
“Because my family’s poor. Right? Is that it? My family’s poor, so I don’t get to tell your family what to do with their money.” She got up, picking her clothes up off the floor and hastily getting dressed.
“Okay, yes. We come from very different backgrounds.”
She blew out air and wrestled with her sneaker. “Oh, just say it. I’m not good enough for you, and I never was. Trailer trash. You were never going to marry Old Man Buckley’s daughter.”
“Stop getting dressed. Let’s talk about this.”
“What is there to talk about? I just got a real good look into your heart, and I don’t like what I see.”
“You know I love you.”
“Do you?” She pulled her sweatshirt over her head. “Do you love me enough to marry me and take me away from this place?”
He said nothing, only stared at her from across the room. She moved to the door. “Don’t call me. Don’t come to the diner and see me. In two weeks, you’ll be gone and finally free of me.”
She wanted him to argue with her, to insist he was wrong and whisper apologies into her hair. Instead, he said, “We could use the time to think about what we really want.”
She could still feel the devastation his words wrought inside her. Her world had been shattered that night, leaving her surrounded by shards with no way to fix it. A tear slipped down her cheek. A draft crept around the old window, and she hugged herself against the cold. Some things never changed, and she was grateful this house, at least, was one of them.
7
“Don’t finish all the Cap’n Crunch!”
