He stares at me, and it’s hard for me to feel myself shrinking. Confidence isn’t something I’m generally lacking, but I have my moments of self-doubt. This is one. “How long have two been dating?”
I jerk my head back. “Dating? What? No, no. We’renotdating.”
“How much time do you spend together?”
“We’re together nearly every night,” I respond automatically.
“Do you have a drawer?”
“Yes, and a spot for my toothbrush.” I squint at him, unsure of what he’s getting at here, and frustrated as hell that he’s skirting around the important subject.
“And who is the first person you think of in the morning? The one who makes you smile the most? The person you want to share all your big moments with? The first person who comes to mind right this very second?”
“Haley.” It comes out almost whispered as I realize just where it is he’s going.
“Yousureyou’re not dating?”
I gulp. “Not officially.”
“You need to redefine ‘officially’ in your book.” With that, he turns and heads over to the pick-up window.
“No, hey, get back here!” Again with the yelling.
He spins around after yelling something to the kitchen. “Are you innocent, Gaige?”
“Innocent?”
“Yeah. That shit that went down, how much of it is on you?”
Good Lord. I feel like a boxed markedfragilethat the movers just threw into the back of the truck and let bounce, bounce, bounce around—only I’ve been bouncing for years, not just miles. This conversation is throwing me over one bump after another.
“I wasn’t there when…” I prop my elbows on the bar and drop my head to my hands, trying to scrub out the angry, gnarled scenes playing in my mind. First the lifeless body of a guy I knew, a guy I was friends with. Then the screams that ripped through me in the police station, the tears I shed, the stoic, noncommittal shrug I gave when I was escorted to jail. “I wasn’t there when it happened.”
“So you’re saying you are…innocent?” Benny pushes, not giving two shits that I’m half a step away from spinning out of control.
Shrugging, I answer, “In some regards, sure. In others, I’m guilty of a lot.”
“But in this particular one?”
Tugging at my hair, I ground out, “Innocent.”
Standing back, he studies me. I wonder what he sees. A killer? A man who wishes he could erase his past? One who apologizes daily to a man he knew he could never save? A man who wants nothing more than to take back those stupid words he spouted off, the ones that irrevocably altered his life? Or one who wants to go back to being ten soeverythingcould change?
Benny gulps in a big breath of air, his wide chest expanding even more, causing the faded Ford logo on his shirt to stretch.
“Straight talk?”
“You better fucking believe it.”
“Watching your eyes die at the mere mention of that night, I believe you when you say you’re innocent, that you didn’t stand by and watch that man die. But, I can’t trust you.” He arches a brow. “However, I can trust Haley. So, here’s your chance, kid. Remember, if you break her heart, or do anything sketchy—at all—I will punch you. Again.”
“You know I wasn’t doing anything wrong that night you hit me.”
He doesn’t say anything, only stares.
“Right,” I say, breaking contact with his harsh glare. “So can I get those fries?”
Mumbling, he stalks off, grabs my basket of fries from the window, and throws them down in front of me. “Tell your girlfriend I said hi.”
