Page 54 of Missile Tow
“I’m falling for you, Van. Frankly, head over heels, and falling for you,” he declared.
Warmth ignited my cheeks. Was the blushing caused by the excitement of his revelation, or confirmation of my own true feelings for him? Perhaps his admission felt premature to me? Or… did my face feel flushed from the warnings on my mind too?
“I feel the same,” I admitted.
“You do?”
“I do.”
Chip let out a held breath and grinned. “Okay, so… about the warning I mentioned.”
“Aww,” I teased. “So there’s a warning attached to your declaration of falling for me, is there?”
“My heart, or maybe my brain, I’m not certain which,” he muttered, his hands moving to his lap and fidgeting. “Anyway, doesn’t matter which, but one of ’em is afraid you’re just on a pit stop here in Missile.”
“I am,” I replied. “Or I was,” I corrected.
“Which one do you feel it is?” he asked.
“Do you want to know what my inner voice’s warning is first?” I inquired.
“Sorta,” he whispered, nervously looking away. “Sorta not.”
“I’ll tell you anyway,” I stated. He nodded, encouraging me to go ahead even if he seemed reluctant. “I worry you’re not over John.”
Expecting him to deny my worry, I was surprised by his answer. “You could be correct,” he agreed.
Not the answer I expected. “Wow,” I whispered, leaning back on my hands. “That was honest.”
“How does one know?” he asked. “If the only person you ever loved leaves you, is there a time chart that tells you how long it hurts?”
“I get that,” I concurred, knowing exactly what he meant. “I guess I’m curious if we can have those feelings about a past love, while risking our hearts on someone new?”
Chip reached for my hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing me gently. “What if risking your heart on someone new, as you say, is part of getting over the hurt?” he asked.
His question was valid. “Like, we couldn’t be capable of feeling new love if we weren’t truly over the past love?” I inquired.
His lips pursed, his expression thoughtful as heavy-lidded eyes contemplated the possibility I’d hit on something. I’d noticed Chip was very careful before answering serious questions or entertaining different ideas. He possessed an attractive and mature ability to truly process information before responding.
“That is precisely what I was thinking,” he admitted. “Almost since the day you showed up at the mercantile, and until now, my thoughts have been focused on you, not John.”
Hearing him admit such a powerful insight flooded my heart. The fear he hadn’t moved past John gently melted into the background, and seeing myself with him suddenly became a realistic option.
Meeting Chip and being around him for the past week had revealed a man considerably more mature than a typical twenty-four-year-old. And I feel like a good judge of such things, being the same age. He carried himself as a man many years wiser. I assumed that the amount of loss he’d experienced forced him to develop the maturity he exhibited.
I’m not sure why I said what I said next, but I spoke about another fear. “I don’t think John is happy with his choice of Evan,” I blurted.
Like my sudden pronouncement was to me, his reaction was one of surprise. He stood from the bed in a hurry, located his boxers, and pulled them on before going to stand at the bedroom window. My desire to take back what I’d just said was overwhelming.
“You idiot,” I muttered under my breath.
Chip turned around. “Why tell me that?” he asked. I stood and walked toward him, but he held his hand up. “Hang on a sec.”
I froze in place. “Let me explain,” I pleaded.
“No need,” he replied. “Are you testing me, Van?”
First instinct was to deflect, lie, or come up with a brilliant defense. The need for total transparency and a future built on truth outweighed my desire to preserve the moment.
