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“Why are you so pissed off?” she asked, out of breath by the time she caught up to him. “Seriously. If anyone has the right to be angry it’s me, not you.”
Travis set down the bin. He stood for a few moments, his back to her, before slowly turning around.
“What exactly are you angry about?” he asked, his voice dangerous and low. “The fact that I asked Wyatt to help me? Or the fact that my brother knows we’re banging?”
She winced at his crudeness. “Can you not use that word? It’s juvenile.”
“Well, this,” he motioned in the air with his hands, “Is juvenile.”
She ignored his comment. “You’ve had that conversation with your family? Did you tell all of them? Jesus, Travis. Why didn’t you rent out a billboard?”
“You’re being unreasonable.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I’m not.” Why did he insist on making her the bad guy?
“Wyatt’s my brother. We talk about shit.”
“You never used to. Your brothers were too focused on their own problems, and your dad acted like you didn’t exist.”
That scored a point or two. He looked ready to explode.
“Something we have in common,” he replied, eyes dark and flashing. “The whole crap-father thing. What else do you want to throw at me?”
“That’s about it,” she retorted. “Isn’t it enough?” Her anger sizzled like a hot poker in the fire. “Look, neither one of us belongs on a family of the year poster. They suck, and we’re damaged. You know it, and so do I. They might come off as prettier or more polished, but nothing’s changed. Not really.”
He stared at her for several long moments. “If you really think that, then I feel sorry for you.”
He feels sorry for me? She opened her mouth, a hot retort on her lips, but he didn’t give her the chance to respond.
“I’ve changed. I’ve grown, and so has my family. Some, like my dad, expect a little too much, but I can’t fault him for trying. Some things can’t be forgotten, but we do move on and we try.” He paused and ran his hand over his hair, tugging off the bandana. “You know he told me he admired you, the other day. Said you had a lot of strength. Who wouldn’t think that? Look at all you’ve accomplished. But I’m not so sure anymore. I see a woman who’s still living in the past. A woman who wants me to stay there with her, and I don’t know if I can.” He shrugged. “This sneaking around? I don’t think I can do it anymore. I don’t think I want to. I’m not going to live in your bubble, Ruby. The one you’ve created because you’re too afraid to face reality.”
She wanted to punch him. Hard. Annihilate the words coming out of his mouth because she didn’t want to
hear him. Travis was wrong. She had changed. There would have been a time when she would have done whatever it took to shut him up. Guess, she’d done some growing after all.
She took a moment and centered her chaotic thoughts. But most of them boiled down to one thing. He was pulling away and she wasn’t ready for that.
“What happened to the no strings? Why are you ruining the last few weeks? Why can’t we just…” She didn’t know how to articulate the feelings inside. Didn’t know how to express her need for him, as well as the need to protect herself.
A muscle worked its way across Travis’s jaw. He was still angry. “Why am I… Christ, are you listening to yourself? This isn’t about strings. Which, I’m going to point out, is your thing, not mine. This is about the fact that we’re adults now. We’re not the kids we were the first time around. I’m ready to own my actions. I’m not afraid to admit to the mistakes I made when I was younger. I’m not afraid to be held accountable. And I sure as hell am not afraid of what people might say if they find out we’re back together.”
“We’re not back together, Travis.” She spoke quietly, but the effect was powerful. She saw it. His expression changed. His eyes hardened. “We’re hanging out. We’re enjoying a physical relationship without the emotional component. Most men would think they’d died and gone to heaven.”
“I’m not most men.” His mouth tightened.
This whole thing was spiraling, and Ruby didn’t know how to stop it.
Travis swore. He said something unintelligible and then looked her square in the eye. “Regan and Wyatt are having a barbecue. They’ve invited us, and I plan on going. It’s up to you if you want to join us. They live at the end of Ridge Road.”
He walked past Ruby and didn’t bother to look back. Not even when Tasha ran circles behind him and barked like a banshee. Ruby followed him out of the boathouse and watched until he disappeared from view. She heard the rumble when his truck roared to life, and winced at the squeal of tires as he left.
He was more than just a little angry. Thing was? Ruby thought she’d be more than just a little angry. But instead of anger, she was anxious, confused, and more afraid than she cared to admit to. The scary thing was that she was afraid to figure out what it was she was afraid of.
How screwed up was that?
Was she afraid of losing a man she’d convinced herself she didn’t want anymore? Or was she afraid of exploring what she felt for him? Was this more than just sex? If so, was she smart not to let him in, or a damn fool?
“Ruby, you’ve gotten yourself into a pickle,” she whispered as she slowly headed to the house. Once inside, she stood in the great room that she took such pride in, and glanced around at all the nice things she’d accumulated over the last few years. Expensive furniture. Artwork. Décor. Her closets were filled with clothes, some she’d never worn and still sporting their price tags. She had jewelry and name-brand bags she barely used. When had she become that girl? When had she decided those things equated happiness?
