Page 118 of Trailer Trash

In the car, she lowers herself into the passenger seat carefully, her face tightening before she looks away.

I grit my teeth. I want to be irate with her. I don’t want to comfort a liar. I should’ve cleaned her up. It was her first time, and I wasn’t that gentle. Not at all.

Fuck.

My hands grip the steering wheel tightly. I don’t want to care about this goddamn woman.

As I drive, I glance over. A tear rolls down her cheek.

Ignore it, Killian.

I pull up to her trailer. I glance over once more. She’s shaking. Crying.

Killing me.

Fuck.

I have to fix this. I don’t want Harlow gone. In fact, her not being in my life makes my world suffocating. We’re just not a match.

“Harlow, look. We tried. It didn’t work out. That’s okay.”

Her mouth hangs open, horrified. “What? We’re done?” Her voice gets higher. “Just like that!”

“I still want you to be my sober aide.”

Tears burst from her eyes.

Holy shit.

I’m fucking this up.

“Why? Give me one good reason,” she demands.

I purse my lips tightly.

“Please, Killian.”

“For starters, my dad’s paychecks are the only thing that matters to you.”

She gasps, stunned.

“Harlow, it’s not your fault. You were raised poor. Money will always be the first thing on your mind.”

“What are you talking about? This isn’t about money!” she yells, then freezes. “Wait a second. Is that why you stuffed money in my mouth?”

“Don’t act surprised. If I’m wrong, then quit.”

“I have bills!”

“I’m rich. I could provide for you.”

Her forehead scrunches. “And what if we don’t work out?”

“There.” I point at her mouth. “That’s the problem. You think I’m not worth the risk. You think I’m just a fucking addict who will self-destruct.”

She grimaces, but shrugs meekly.

“It is a big risk, but I can date you and keep a job at the hospital. I can’t throw away my career. We’ve been on one date.”