Crash (Crash 1)

I should have felt better, knowing he hadn’t abandoned me like last week’s garbage, but I couldn’t, knowing I’d been one of those that bought into that theory. Jude deserved to have at least one person on his side, and that person should have been me.

“Hey, Luce,” he said, twisting his hands over my other foot. “Okay?”

I closed my eyes because that was my last defense against tears. “Okay.”

“Lucc?” he said, his voice a note high. “Shit, don’t cry. I’m not worth it, not worth even thinking about crying.”

I took in two slow breathes before opening my eyes. “I’m not crying,” I said, trying to convince both of us. “I’m just frustrated. And I get all watery-eyed when I get frustrated.”

He studied me another moment before turning his attention back on my feet. “Why are you frustrated?”

“Pick a topic, any topic, and there’s a pretty good chance I’ll be frustrated about some element of it.”

“That was a nice attempt at being vague, Luce, really it was,” he said, one side of his mouth lifting, “but why are you frustrated, in particular, right now?”

To answer this honestly would require a multi-pronged, day long explanation which would leave me transparent and exposed in every way a girl dreaded most. So I went for the least complicated, most pointed answer I could give him right now. “I’m frustrated with twelve a.m. to twelve p.m. of last Saturday. The whole damn day and everything that could have gone wrong that went wrong,” I began, trying to put a stopper on the verbal explosion. “I’m frustrated because I don’t understand why everything that could go bad did, and I’m frustrated because I don’t understand why you took that car in the first place.”

“I took that car,” he said, being the stopper I needed, “and I would take a hundred more, because even though you say you don’t want the best, I want to give you the best.”

“Why, Jude? Why are you so damned determined that I need to have the best?” I asked, leaning forward.

He lifted a shoulder, his eyes cast down. “Because, Luce. Because you’re the most important person in my life.”

And that was the tipping point. I couldn’t hold the damn tears back. A person he’d known a few weeks, a person who’d turned her back on him when he needed a friend most, a person who had and was still trying to convince herself that he was not the man to fall for. And this person was the most important one to him.

“I don’t deserve that title,” I said, playing with the sleeve of my tunic.

“Why?” he asked, lifting my chin until I was looking at him. “Because you finally accepted what a tumor I am and feel guilty for it?”

My eyes flashed. “No.”

“Then why?” he asked, nothing antagonizing in his voice, just curiosity.

“Because you and I have too much bad history to make a good future.” There it was, the truth without having to burrow into the nitty-gritty. I didn’t have to bring up the fire or the rumors or the stolen car because it was all there between the lines.

“Shit, Luce.” His forehead lined. “Weren’t you the one that just said your past doesn’t have to dictate your future?”

I’d never felt like such a hypocrite. My shoulders sagged from sheer mental and physical exhaustion.

“Or does that go for everything but me?”

Jude’s life had been filled with enough crap, he didn’t need any more from me, but I just couldn’t do this. I knew, with absolute certainty, I’d come out in worse shape than I’d gone in if I let Jude into my life the way he wanted to be.

“Jude,” I said, biting my lip. “I just can’t. I can’t do this.”

His expression darkened. “I know I don’t deserve a second, or third, or whatever the hell this is chance, but you and I have something special, Luce, and you know it. Give me another chance, one more chance, and I’ll walk a line so straight people will think I’ve been possessed.” God I wanted to look away from those eyes, but I just couldn’t. They were impossible to ignore. “One more chance. Not because I deserve it, but because we deserve one.”

If the first alligator tears I’d cried in years were any indication of our future together, that should make my decision easier. “I can’t,” I whispered.

“Why? Because you can’t or you won’t?”

A lie was going to be the only hope I had of convincing him I wasn’t fighting every urge to be with him. “Because I just don’t want to be with you, Jude.” The words flamed my throat.

His face fell for barely a second before it sharpened. “Bullshit,” he said, shaking his head at me. “I’m so used to dealing with liars I know a lie’s coming before a person opens their mouth.”

I was the worst bluffer around and Jude was the best caller around, which meant I wouldn’t get away with anything. Reason number one thousand and one why Jude and I would never work. “I’m not exactly your garden variety thug, thief, or dealer. I don’t lie through my teeth, so you might want to recalibrate your BS detector.”

His eyes stayed trained on me, unblinking. “Fine. Convince me then. Convince me you don’t want me like I want you.”

He was not going to let this go, he was not going to let me go so easily. It was as romantic as it was infuriating. “I’ve said everything—”

uld have felt better, knowing he hadn’t abandoned me like last week’s garbage, but I couldn’t, knowing I’d been one of those that bought into that theory. Jude deserved to have at least one person on his side, and that person should have been me.

“Hey, Luce,” he said, twisting his hands over my other foot. “Okay?”

I closed my eyes because that was my last defense against tears. “Okay.”

“Lucc?” he said, his voice a note high. “Shit, don’t cry. I’m not worth it, not worth even thinking about crying.”

I took in two slow breathes before opening my eyes. “I’m not crying,” I said, trying to convince both of us. “I’m just frustrated. And I get all watery-eyed when I get frustrated.”

He studied me another moment before turning his attention back on my feet. “Why are you frustrated?”

“Pick a topic, any topic, and there’s a pretty good chance I’ll be frustrated about some element of it.”

“That was a nice attempt at being vague, Luce, really it was,” he said, one side of his mouth lifting, “but why are you frustrated, in particular, right now?”

To answer this honestly would require a multi-pronged, day long explanation which would leave me transparent and exposed in every way a girl dreaded most. So I went for the least complicated, most pointed answer I could give him right now. “I’m frustrated with twelve a.m. to twelve p.m. of last Saturday. The whole damn day and everything that could have gone wrong that went wrong,” I began, trying to put a stopper on the verbal explosion. “I’m frustrated because I don’t understand why everything that could go bad did, and I’m frustrated because I don’t understand why you took that car in the first place.”

“I took that car,” he said, being the stopper I needed, “and I would take a hundred more, because even though you say you don’t want the best, I want to give you the best.”

“Why, Jude? Why are you so damned determined that I need to have the best?” I asked, leaning forward.

He lifted a shoulder, his eyes cast down. “Because, Luce. Because you’re the most important person in my life.”

And that was the tipping point. I couldn’t hold the damn tears back. A person he’d known a few weeks, a person who’d turned her back on him when he needed a friend most, a person who had and was still trying to convince herself that he was not the man to fall for. And this person was the most important one to him.

“I don’t deserve that title,” I said, playing with the sleeve of my tunic.

“Why?” he asked, lifting my chin until I was looking at him. “Because you finally accepted what a tumor I am and feel guilty for it?”

My eyes flashed. “No.”

“Then why?” he asked, nothing antagonizing in his voice, just curiosity.

“Because you and I have too much bad history to make a good future.” There it was, the truth without having to burrow into the nitty-gritty. I didn’t have to bring up the fire or the rumors or the stolen car because it was all there between the lines.

“Shit, Luce.” His forehead lined. “Weren’t you the one that just said your past doesn’t have to dictate your future?”

I’d never felt like such a hypocrite. My shoulders sagged from sheer mental and physical exhaustion.

“Or does that go for everything but me?”

Jude’s life had been filled with enough crap, he didn’t need any more from me, but I just couldn’t do this. I knew, with absolute certainty, I’d come out in worse shape than I’d gone in if I let Jude into my life the way he wanted to be.

“Jude,” I said, biting my lip. “I just can’t. I can’t do this.”

His expression darkened. “I know I don’t deserve a second, or third, or whatever the hell this is chance, but you and I have something special, Luce, and you know it. Give me another chance, one more chance, and I’ll walk a line so straight people will think I’ve been possessed.” God I wanted to look away from those eyes, but I just couldn’t. They were impossible to ignore. “One more chance. Not because I deserve it, but because we deserve one.”

If the first alligator tears I’d cried in years were any indication of our future together, that should make my decision easier. “I can’t,” I whispered.

“Why? Because you can’t or you won’t?”

A lie was going to be the only hope I had of convincing him I wasn’t fighting every urge to be with him. “Because I just don’t want to be with you, Jude.” The words flamed my throat.

His face fell for barely a second before it sharpened. “Bullshit,” he said, shaking his head at me. “I’m so used to dealing with liars I know a lie’s coming before a person opens their mouth.”

I was the worst bluffer around and Jude was the best caller around, which meant I wouldn’t get away with anything. Reason number one thousand and one why Jude and I would never work. “I’m not exactly your garden variety thug, thief, or dealer. I don’t lie through my teeth, so you might want to recalibrate your BS detector.”

His eyes stayed trained on me, unblinking. “Fine. Convince me then. Convince me you don’t want me like I want you.”

He was not going to let this go, he was not going to let me go so easily. It was as romantic as it was infuriating. “I’ve said everything—”