Olivia glanced at her truck one more time as they pulled out, and he watched from the corner of
his eye as she faced forward, a resigned look on her face.
“You seem pretty attached to that truck,” he said conversationally. The look she gave him said she wasn’t sure how he meant that, so he pushed on. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I’m partial to my truck, too.”
Biting her lip, she gazed at him for a moment before looking out the windshield. “Yeah, I am. It was my dad’s truck, and one of the only things I have left of him. I know it wouldn’t have done it any permanent damage if I drove it home, and I would have if I had to. But when you offered to drive me, I couldn’t refuse. I can’t stand the thought of anything happening to it.”
Dual emotions surged through him—warmth that she was opening up, even just a small bit, and telling him something personal; and a sharp ache that made him want to rub his chest. Because it sounded like she’d lost her father, and he hated that she’d had to experience that.
“He passed away?” he asked gently, to clarify.
She nodded, her eyes still watching the town slowly pass by. “Yeah, about four years ago. Maybe I’m being overprotective of it, but besides a photo album, that truck is the only thing I brought with me when I left my old life behind.”
So many questions crowded his mind about why she left her old life and why she brought so little with her, but he held them back. “Trust me, I understand. I have my dad’s truck, too. He died when I was seventeen. At least you drive your dad’s. I crank the engine on Dad’s often, do regular maintenance, all that. But every time I try to drive it, I can’t get passed the driveway. I’m not sure why. He wouldn’t have wanted it to sit with no one getting any use out of it. But even knowing that, I can’t bring myself to drive it around.”
She glanced at him with compassion and understanding in her moss green gaze, but even though he was aware of it—he was always aware of everything about her—he couldn’t focus on it.
That was the first time he’d really opened up about his dad to anyone. And he wasn’t sure what surprised him more—the fact that he’d opened up to someone who was a virtual stranger to him, no matter how he felt about her, no matter that he could have sworn his soul had known hers for years; or that it’d been thirteen years since his dad passed, and he still didn’t talk much about him or what happened.
Not even with his sister. Lindsey had been so young when their dad died. She didn’t have the same memories, didn’t know as well as he did what it had been like to have him in her life.
Maybe he should try to change that, though. Not having him as long as Cody had didn’t mean she didn’t still miss him, or his presence in her life.
“I’m sorry,” Olivia said softly, pulling him out of his thoughts. “I know what losing a parent does to you. Maybe you can’t drive it because like my truck is a link to my dad, that truck is a link to yours. I couldn’t drive my dad’s at first, either. But I found once I made myself, I felt closer to him. There are a lot of memories wrapped up in that truck.”
Hoping he wasn’t pushing her too much, but wanting her to keep talking, he quickly glanced over at her. “Yeah? Like what?”
Her smile was soft as she looked over at him. “He taught me how to drive in that truck. My sister, too. And everything I know about fixing cars came from him teaching me on it. He tried to teach Fiona as well, but she was never interested. I ate it up, though. I loved the challenge of fixing it when it was broken, and I loved spending time with him while I was doing it.”
“Daddy’s girl?” he asked quietly, keeping his voice soft and friendly, not wanting her to take offense.
“Absolutely. I followed him everywhere from the moment I could walk. I wanted to do everything he did, and he was everything I hoped to become one day. Strong, intelligent, kind, selfless.”
“We haven’t known each other long, but from what I’ve seen of you, I’d say you’re well on your way to reaching your goal.”
Her smile faltered as a small furrow appeared between her brows. “I’m better at some of those than others, but I’m trying.” Pausing for a moment, she went quiet, and then she seemed to shake off her introspection. “What about you? Were you close with your dad?”
His chest seized in a vice grip as he thought about her question. He hadn’t allowed himself to think about his father in so long, and it was painful to try. Inhaling deeply, he fought to control his emotions long enough to answer.
“I’m sorry,” Olivia said quickly. “I don’t want to pry into something painful, and it’s not really any of my business. You don’t have to answer that. I shouldn’t have asked.”
He shook his head, fighting to find his voice. If he wanted her to open up to him—and he did, more than he imagined possible—then he had to open up to her, too. Even if the thirteen-year-old wound was still raw and bleeding.
Even if that same pain actually began two years before his father ever died.
Clearing his throat, he shook his head again. “No, it’s fine. I don’t talk about him as much as I should. Yeah, we were close. Very close. He was my hero and mentor, and he tried to teach me how to be a good leader—the kind of leader he was. He was basically my best friend.”
Making another soft sound of compassion, she reached over and laid her fingers gently on his forearm. That same bolt of hair-raising intensity raced across his skin at her touch, and he swallowed hard as he tightened his hands on the steering wheel.
He considered himself a tough and masculine man, and he couldn’t remember the last time something made him feel afraid. No boasting, just facts. But if just the touch of her fingers on his arm could knock him on his ass and make him feel like that, he was almost scared to know what more of her touch would do to him.
He couldn’t wait to find out, though.
“I know exactly what you meant. I felt the same way about my dad.” Falling silent for a moment, she rearranged herself on the seat until she was partially facing him. “What did you mean by teaching you to be a leader? Of what?”
He froze, his mind racing. That was careless. So careless. She wasn’t anywhere near ready to learn about the monsters living in his part of the woods.
Forcing himself to relax, he glanced over at her. “You know, like be a good boss. At Aaron’s. I probably worded that wrong.”