“What would you do at home to keep busy if you weren’t working?”
“Tinker.”
Her nose scrunches up adorably. “That sounds like something my grandpa would say.”
“Fitting.” My voice scratches at my dry throat. “I got it from mine.”
Something shifts in her expression. “He has a past.”
The teasing drains from the room.
We both know my past is the kind that haunts.
I stand, forcing her hand to drop from my shoulder.
“You’re going to be late.”
Hurt flashes in her eyes, but she covers it.
“Shit. I am.” She grabs her bag from the floor. “Are you ready?”
“To be done talking about myself, definitely."
For the doctor to tell me news I’m probably not ready to hear? No.
When she straightens, the faint flush coloring her cheeks is embarrassment, not longing. I catch a quick, almost undetectable noise of resignation as she leads me out of the house.
Rolling my shoulders, I follow her as I attempt to shake off the leftover tension her hands left behind.
Her SUV isn’t in its usual spot in the driveway. Instead, she leads me to the garage, punching in the code with a quick glance over her shoulder. Her fingers falter as she fumbles for theEnterkey, and I sense she wants to say more.
She turns to face me as the garage door opens.
“I’m sorry for bringing up your past.” She toes the gravel at her feet. “I know it’s painful. I shouldn’t have said anything.” A short, embarrassed laugh breaks from her as she shakes her head.
Unwilling to be another person she carries things for, I reach out and tuck a hair that escaped behind her ear.
“My past isn’t something you have to shoulder.” Bending at the knees, I look her in the eye. “No one can change it or undo the damage I caused. Not even you.”
She presses her lips together, and I can tell it’s killing her not to argue.
My knuckles dust her cheek on the retreat. “Stubborn as hell and softer than you let people see,” I say, low, almost a warning.
A shiver creeps up her spine, making her shoulder shift as she steps back, turning toward her SUV.
“With the chance of rain last night . . .” Her voice comes out a little thinner than before as she nods toward the SUV. “I figured I should put her away. Not a drop, of course. It’s been so dry.”
“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Aspen.”
The words are out before I realize she wasn’t explaining.
She was making conversation.
“Right.”
Fuck.
I drag a hand down my face. “Sorry. That was rude.”
