“I was on my own. I had to take care of myself and be responsible. I couldn’t take a chance on making it as an actress when I had rent to pay and groceries to buy. Someone at a career fair told me about the demand for dental hygienists, the salary and benefits, and that I wouldn’t have to be in school forever. That was all I needed to know for it to become my new dream career.”
Grant rolled down his window an inch, just enough to let a little cool air into the cab. Grant had always driven with the window down or cracked, just like he’d always left his bedroom window, even in the dead of winter. Back then it had been to air out the scent of filth or cigarette smoke, but the inside of his cab smelled perfectly nice now. Like conditioned leather and the same soap I remembered him using. Another one of those old habits dying never, I guessed.
“Do you like it?” he asked.
“Yeah, I did,” I said, clasping my hands together, knowing this was as good a segue as any.
His head turned my way for a moment. “You’re not a hygienist anymore?”
I answered with a shake of my head.
“Why not?” he asked simply, though the answer was anything but simple.
Why not? There were a hundred different ways to bridge the topic, but all I could think of was one—the blunt truth. I’d hoped to ease him into it instead of just laying it out there. Grant had dealt with plenty of harsh truths in his life, and so had I. That was the reason I wanted to finesse this one. So it was easier to accept when I spelled it all out.
He’d just turned down Turner Avenue, and the motel wasn’t far. I didn’t have the time or presence of mind to do this the right way tonight.
“What are you doing tomorrow night?”
My abrupt question seemed to surprise him. Or at least unsettle him. His carefully composed expression fell just long enough for me to notice he’d been expecting any other question than that one.
“Not much. My flight doesn’t leave for New York until the next morning.”
Thank god. Knowing how crazy his schedule had to be, I’d been worried he’d leave tomorrow. “Could we get together? You know, to catch up?”
“Ryan . . .” His hands slid down the steering wheel.
“As friends,” I clarified immediately, guessing his hesitation was stemming from the fact that he’d been burned once by me and wasn’t eager for a repeat. “As friends and nothing more.”
He let that settle in the air for a minute as he pulled into the parking lot of the motel I pointed at. After he pulled into a spot, he inspected the motel the way he had the dark streets back in The Clink—like he was gauging their level of safety. I wanted to tell him that I wasn’t his responsibility anymore. I wanted to tell him that I’d been keeping myself safe for years and he could let go of the fear of something happening to me.
“This is where you’re staying?” His gaze drifted to the front desk, where a middle-aged man was scratching his head and watching something on a small television.
“For now.”
“This isn’t a very good part of town.” He looked over his shoulder out the back window, scanning the streets.
I scanned the same streets with him, lifting a brow. I clearly wasn’t seeing what he was when he looked around. “I spent seventeen years in one of the worst neighborhoods in the country. This is paradise.”
His eyes darted along the two floors of rooms, probably checking for burnt-out lights and figures lurking in the shadows. “Are you staying alone?”
Instead of going with the truth or a lie, I answered in a different way. “Grant, I’m fine.”
When my hand dropped to the handle, he twisted in his seat toward me. “What time were you thinking tomorrow night?”
A wash of relief flooded me. He wasn’t shutting me out. At least not yet. “Seven? If that works for you?”
Grant didn’t take a second to check his calendar or to think about it. “That works for me. I’ll pick you up here since I’m not sure if your car will be done by then.”
My car. I’d almost forgotten about it. “That would be great, thanks.”
When I swung the door open, Grant went to open his. “Let me walk you to your room.”
“No,” I replied immediately. When I noticed the surprised look on his face, I gave him a little smile. “I’ve been taking care of myself for seven years now, and I’ve done a pretty good job of it. Besides, it’s not your job anymore. You’ve already done more than enough tonight.”
His jaw went rigid, but he nodded. “Fine. But wave from the door once you get inside.”
Pulling the motel key from my purse, I nodded. “I can manage that.”
I stood outside the truck door, not moving. I needed to say good-bye, but I couldn’t get the word out. I hated good-bye and the whole meaning behind it. It didn’t matter if it was the temporary kind or the permanent kind, because really, we didn’t have any control over it. Life made that decision for us.
“I’m sorry.” The words that spilled past my lips bubbled up from deep inside me. “I’m so sorry for what I did. For how I hurt you.” I couldn’t look at him as I said everything—it was hard enough getting it out without choking on each word. “You were the one person in the world I never wanted to hurt, and I was the one who hurt you more than any one person ever deserves. I’m so sorry.”
While I couldn’t do more than glance at him, I was all he seemed capable of looking at. Leaning across the seat, he waited for me to meet his stare. He kept waiting.