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Rhett and Mo pull up alongside us. Rhett hands Trevor his boots, which he slips on. “We’ll be right over here.”
Rhett parks down the road, giving us the privacy I asked for.
Trevor squeezes my fingers. “Come on, Claire, let me take you home.” He tugs on my hand, but I take a step back.
Trevor furrows his brow and watches me.
“I’m, uh…I’m going to get a ride with Mo.”
His face is blank. “Why?”
“It’s late, and I’m sure you’re drained. You probably want to get home and get cleaned up,” I say, unable to look him in the eye.
“Look at me.”
I don’t.
“Look at me, Claire.”
Swallowing, I look up.
“That’s better. And yes, I want to go home and get cleaned up, but I also want to be with you.”
“I’m tired. Watching all of this has been exhausting.”
“Okay, then we’ll go home and sleep and talk about it tomorrow.”
“No, Trevor.”
He shakes his head and runs a hand over his tired eyes. “Cut the bullshit, Claire, and tell me what’s really going on.”
“Fine.” I take a deep breath and square my shoulders, as if the movement will give me the strength I need. “I have a lot on my mind, and I need to think.”
“Does this have to do with the fire?”
“No.” I shake my head. “It has nothing to do with the fire.”
“You don’t want to be around me, is that it?”
“No,” I growl. “I just need some space to think, Trevor. All of this—us—has happened so fast, and I need a second to work it all out in my head. I think you do too.”
“Work what out? This morning you couldn’t get enough of me and we were making plans for the weekend, and now you’re asking for space. Excuse me if I’m a little confused.”
“A lot has happened this evening, Trevor.”
“So this is about the fire.” He rubs a hand along his jaw. He tries to reach for my hand again, but I pull back. His face falls—the look pulling me deeper and deeper into the dark hole I’m already in. “What are you doing, Claire?”
I’m ripping my heart out, Trevor, that’s what I’m doing. “I’m protecting you.”
His jaw clenches tight. “No,” he says, shaking his head. “You’re protecting yourself. You said you loved me,” he whispers.
“I do love you.”
“I’m not so sure, Claire. I believe you love the idea of me—of us. But if you loved me, you’d let me take you home, and we’d work through whatever shit is running through your head together.”
“Don’t you get it? I love you so goddamn much I can’t see straight.” I shove my fingers into my hair and pace the length of Mo’s truck, Trevor’s eyes tracking my every move. “When you’re around, I feel like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff. I can’t think, let alone form words, and I’m seconds away from hurling myself off the edge, and that’s terrifying. What if you’re not there to catch me?”
“Claire—”
