“This is home,” he says, handing me my keys.
“It’s beautiful.”
“Thanks. My granddaddy left it to me when he died.”
“I’m sorry.”
His expression remains flat as he gets out of the car. I do the same and round the front. My stomach wrenches, forming a tight knot as I reach him.
I don’t want this moment. I don’t want to look at him. I want to race out of this driveway and never look back, and I want to do it before I have time to absorb how hurt I feel. I wish I’d never met Battle McCoy. In just twelve hours he’s left a giant scar, no doubt his means to tease me from now until what I’m certain will be eternity.
His hand grips my arm and he hauls me to his chest. “Can I be honest with you?” he asks.
“Yes,” I answer out of breath.
“I do want more, but we’ll never agree on what more should be, and you deserve better. Love and I aren’t on good terms, sweetheart, and we never will be.”
I wonder briefly why that is, but then as the words repeat in my mind, I realize he’s acting like everyone else in my life. If I want him around, it has to be on his terms.
Anger ripples through me. His eyes flash with surprise as I shove him back. He called me out earlier on labeling people. I won’t allow him to label me as some clingy girl, wanting more than he can offer. “That’s weak, and hypocritical. Don’t put me in a box. If you don’t want to date, fine! But don’t put your crap on me.”
His nostrils flare, as he clenches his jaw. “I don’t date, and I’m not lookin’ for a wife. It will never happen. I want to fuck. Simple as that. Is that what you want?”
“What I want is the guy with the open mind, the one who last night believed in surprises and not expectations.”
“That guy is also a realist who lives life with hot blood and a cold heart. That’s exactly who I am, and I have no intention of changin’.”
I growl from deep in my throat and stomp my foot. He’s missing the point completely. I’m too pissed to articulate what I mean, and he’s twisting things around, conveniently making things work out in his favor. I have a label for him: asshole. I want to say it, but when I step close, his aqua eyes stare into mine, and I lose my nerve.
“Then you’re not only weak, you’re sad.” I shove past him, and get in my car, slamming the door shut. He’s at the window moments later, a tormented expression on his beautiful face.
I want so badly to roll down the window, and yell at him some more, but I don’t.
“Please,” he says, palming the glass.
I cave to his request, because I’m weak, because I’m hopeless, and because deep down, I want him to change his ways. He dips his head inside the open window and crushes his lips to mine. I turn my head to the side. I won’t allow him to kiss me, knowing his affection is a ruse to avoid talking.
He stands up and paces, his hands working through his thick brown locks. I start the car, prepared to leave and forget I ever met him. He bends down next to the window. “You know what you said about how two people share a connection and eventually it grows into love?” I nod. “What happens in the middle?”
I smile. “They get to really know each other.”
“And that’s the part that fuckin’ scares me.” There it is—the fear of vulnerably, the wall around his brittle heart. “I can’t, Faye. I just can’t.”
“I understand,” I say, but I honestly have no clue. I feel for him though. I want to let him off easy, or perhaps I’m protecting myself. He’s a complex guy with a ton baggage. My simple, planned out life never prepared me for Battle. I’m afraid, too.
“So, it was fun, huh?” I say, and force a nervous laugh.
“It was.” He smiles. “Best night I’ve had in a long time.”
“Yeah, um … So, I’ll see ya around.” I sound as awkward as I feel, and I shift into reverse.
Without another glance, he turns and strides away. There’s a slight dip to his hip as he walks, a confident swagger he’s oblivious to.
Although my heart hurts, I know it will pass, and I grin as I drive away. I’ll never forget Battle. I had a one-night stand, acted on a careless dare, and I regret nothing. Battle and I understand each other. There’s no pressure to cultivate our feelings or force them to grow into some happily planned future we may or may not want, simply because we slept together. We were honest.
I feel light. I feel free; my actions untypical, but I now understand why some women repeat the behavior, crave the sensations of uninhibited first kisses and touches that don’t have to be validated with promises. Nothing but pure raw chemistry exploding between two people willing to explore their connection.
I’m such a fraud. I could never go through with it again. As much as I try to deny and accept it, I do want more with Battle. Knowing I will never have it hurts with an emptiness I could never relieve.