“I’ll be busting you in another way if you don’t get going the hell on your way,” JW throws back. The words are growled, but his eyes give off amusement.
“We’re goin’, we’re goin’. I just had to give you shit,” Aaron yells back.
“Time and place, and now ain’t the time nor place.”
With a chuckle, Aaron gives JW a two-finger salute as he and his crew walk off.
“Dipshits,” JW mutters, and I can’t help but giggle. He gives me a look that suggests I may be losing my mind, which only turns my giggles into laughter.
He grabs my hand again, pulls it to his lap, and eases his truck forward.
“So, what about you?” I ask.
“What about me?”
“Tell me three things about you that most people might not know.”
He’s quiet as he thinks over my question.
“I’ve never told anyone that I love them,” he says quietly, thoughtfully.
His statement shocks me for several reasons. First, he has to be in his early-to-mid-thirties. How could he have lived for so long and not said those words to anyone? It makes me incredibly sad for him. Second, why would he tell me that? It’s scary to even contemplate, but is that how he feels about me? Is he trying to say something without actually saying it? Third, I’m surprised at the violent urge I have to wrap my hands around someone’s throat and squeeze as hard as I can. There’s no doubt in my mind that it stems from his childhood. Those dirty bastards fucked with JW in more ways than one.
“Really?” I can’t keep the disbelief from my tone.
“Nope,” he answers casually, like it’s no big deal when it’s a huge one. I mean, I don’t expect him to have just thrown the words to just anyone, but surely there has been someone he loves.
“Not even to your brothers?”
He side-eyes me as one corner of his mouth quirks up. “I love them, but we’re brothers, Gypsy. Men don’t tell each other they love them.”
“Eh, I guess they don’t. Not that there would be anything wrong if they did,” I tack on. I’m not the type who thinks men are weak for talking about their feelings. “What about Mae?”
“Mae knows I love her. She doesn’t need me to say it.”
I almost say that sometimes people just need to hear those three little words, but decide to keep that to myself.
“Why? If you feel it, why don’t you say it?”
The hand that’s gripping the steering wheel turns white as he grips it harder. “Growing up, love was used as
an excuse to hurt children. I’m not real fond of using the word now.”
My throat constricts. What I wouldn’t give to have the opportunity to give his parents a piece of my mind.
His phone rings through the speakers and he lets my hand go to press the Answer icon on the screen on his dash.
“Sheriff Ward.”
“Cliff and Dorothy are at it again,” an older woman says through the speakers. “She whacked him with a broom and he fell. He busted the back of his head open. Trouble’s on his way, but I figured you’d want to be there too.”
“Fuckin’ hell,” JW grumbles. “I’m on my way. Thanks, Rita.”
He hangs up, and I grab the oh shit handle above my head as he does a U-turn in the center of town.
“What was that about?” I relax back in my seat once he straightens the truck.
“Cliff is an old grouchy bastard who keeps doing stupid shit to his neighbor. The both of them are stubborn as hell and can’t get their shit together.”