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"Like I give a damn about appearances," I shot back and the bitterness seeped into my tone. "We're not at some high school prom, Kylo. This is bigger than that."
"Is it?" His eyes met mine again, and I could see the hurt that lurked behind the anger. "Because right now, it feels pretty damn personal."
"Everything's personal with you," I said, the words laced with the signature sarcasm that I used like armor. "God forbid someone else has a life beyond your field of vision."
"Stop deflecting!" His shout echoed in the confined space of the car, and I flinched. "You're always pushing people away, hiding behind your fucking dark humor. When are you going to let someone in?"
"Maybe when someone proves they're not going to use it against me," I countered and the old fear creeped into my voice despite my best efforts. "You want to know what I'm really thinking? That maybe I'm terrified of letting anyone get too close. Satisfied?"
"Terrified?" He shook his head and his expression softened slightly. "Averill, all I've ever wanted is to be there for you. To help shoulder whatever burden you're carrying."
"Then why does it feel like you're just adding to the weight?" My question hung in the air, heavy with a truth I rarely acknowledged.
"Because I care, dammit!" He slammed his hand against the steering wheel, his frustration thick in the air. "I care more than I should, more than makes fucking sense. And it's tearing me apart, seeing you throw yourself into danger without a second thought."
"Maybe that's the problem," I whispered, more to myself than to him. "Caring too much in a world that doesn't care back."
The tension was a living thing that writhed between us like a third passenger as we stormed through the motel parking lot. The rain had picked up, because why the fuck wouldn't it?
"Tell me, Averill," Kylo spit out my name like it was something vile, "Do you enjoy making an ass out of everyone who cares about you?"
"Kylo, I?—"
"Save it." His hand flew up in the air, stopping me mid-sentence. "I thought I knew you."
"Congratulations, Detective. You've cracked the case. I'm a regular Houdini—master at escaping emotions and handcuffing hearts. Is that what you want to hear?"
"Stop joking around!" He whirled on me, the whites of his eyes stark against the anger that painted his features. "This isn't a game, Averill. We’re in the middle of an investigation, and you're playing with fire."
"Maybe I like the heat," I tried to keep my voice steady as we reached the motel entrance, our shoes squeaking on the linoleum as we passed the threshold.
"Damn it, Averill! This isn’t about what you like," he growled and gripped my arm tighter than he’d probably intended. "It’s about being reckless with people's lives, with your life."
"Let go of me, Kylo." I pulled away, the echo of our conflict resonating off the walls. His grip loosened but the hold he had on me, on my conscience, was as tight as ever.
Our voices carried through the dimly lit hallway and bounced off the closed doors and sleeping lives behind them.
"Look at us," I said, my voice still fuming with anger. "We're like some tragic opera duo, doomed from the first act. But guess what? There's no audience here for your grand gestures."
"Tragic?" he echoed and the word sliced through the space between us. "What's tragic is that you can't even see how much this is hurting?—"
"Me?" I interrupted and my own pain surged forward, demanding to be heard. "You think I don’t know what it's like to be torn apart? I live in a constant state of disassembly, Kylo. And every time I try to piece myself back together, someone else comes along looking for a piece."
"Is that why you push away anyone who tries to help?" His voice was softer now, but it still held a sharp edge. "Because you think they'll just take more from you?"
"Isn't that the usual transaction?" I turned to face him fully and our eyes locked. "That's how it was for my entire childhood, and that's how it is now."
"God, Averill," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the rain that pelted against the window panes. "I don't want to be another person you fight. I want to be on your side."
"Then stop making it feel like a battlefield," my throat was tight with emotions I'd sworn to keep at bay. "Because right now, I can't tell my friends from my enemies, and that's a dangerous place to be when you're already at war with yourself."
His gaze didn't waver, and in those brown eyes, I saw the reflection of my own pain. The rift between us had turned into a chasm, and I wasn't sure if either of us was ready to build a bridge.
The motel's grimy walls seemed to close in around us and the buzzing fluorescent lights overhead cast a glow that made Kylo's face look like it was carved from stone. "What the hell were you thinking, Averill?" he demanded.
"Thinking?" I leaned against the chipped paint of the door frame. My arms folded across my chest defensively as I eyed him, the metallic taste of dread settling on my tongue. "Assuming I think is your first mistake."
Kylo's jaw clenched, and I swore I heard his teeth grind. "Don't play games with me. After everything we've been through— Dammit, Averill!" He stepped closer and the heat from his body mingled with the cold air that seeped in from under the ill-fitting door. "I saw the way he looked at you during the ball, and the way you looked back. Don't pretend there's nothing there."
