Split(28)

“I don’t have friends.”

I laugh, but the sound is sadder than I intend. “I don’t either.” Another commonality between us.

The stillness again builds and the air in the cab is alive with an almost tangible energy.

“Your mom, she’s . . .” His lips press together and the muscles in his forearms jumps.

“She died when I was sixteen. Lou Gehrig’s disease.”

He nods but doesn’t give me the usual sympathy speech about being sorry and knowing my mom is in a better place, and for that I’m grateful.

“How about yours?”

His breath hitches. “How—”

“I overheard you at the diner.”

His eyelids flutter, then abruptly squeeze shut in a grimace.

“I shouldn’t have asked.”

With his eyes back on the road, his jaw tenses and he shakes his head as if clearing away a memory.

“One-way street. I get it.” I opened up about myself, but he shuts down when my questions get personal.

“Ma’am?”

“Shy. Ann. Shyann. It’s not that hard.”

“I know . . .”

I turn fully to him. “Then why do you keep calling me ma’am?” And why won’t you talk to me?

Heat builds in my chest, as does frustration at his insistence to keep me at arm’s length. He ignores me at work, goes out of his way to avoid me. It takes a whole hell of a lot of self-control to give someone the cold shoulder and I can’t for the life of me figure out why he’s giving me his.

“If I did something to upset you—”

“You didn’t, I’m . . . I’m not good with”—he waves his hand back and forth between us—“this.”

“This?”

“Small talk. Or any kind of talk. I’m not good with people.”

That’s more than he’s given me so far. Maybe the whole getting-to-know-you thing was too much.

“Wanna play Would You Rather?”

“What’s that?”

“I’ll state two things, and all you have to do is pick which one you’d rather do. Easy enough?”

“I guess so.”

“Okay, so, Lucas, would you rather hike naked through the snow or naked through the desert?”

He turns to me, his eyebrows dropped low, but there’s humor in his expression. “Why am I naked?”

“No reason, just pick one.”

His face twists adorably in disgust. “Gosh, um . . . guess I’d rather be naked in the desert.”

“Me too. Okay, your turn.”

“Oh, um . . .” His left leg jumps up and down in a nervous rhythm. “Would you rather, uh . . . get attacked by a shark or . . .” He’s back to chewing his bottom lip and I try not to stare.

“A shark or . . .?”

“Or a . . . bear?”

“Ooooh, that’s a good one. Hmm . . .” I tap my chin, thinking. “Shark would mean water and the added fear of drowning, which, if you think about it might be a good thing.”

He peeks over at me.

“Quick death.”

“Ah.” He nods.

“Bear you’d probably be awake for the entire attack. I mean, unless he snapped your neck right away. In that case I’d say bear, but what if he didn’t and you were forced to watch while he ate your insides.” I shiver. “Yeah, I’m gonna go with shark. What about you?”

“I was gonna say bear, but . . . you talked me out of it.”

For the first time since we met, he really smiles. Big, wide, and so bright it’s almost blinding. It’s childlike, the kind of happiness rarely seen in adults who’ve been so jaded by life that they no longer have the capability to experience pure joy. It’s breathtaking. I sit still, taking a mental snapshot, totally captivated.





LUCAS


She needs to stop staring at me. As if her eyes aren’t hard enough to avoid, magnetic and curious all at the same time, there’s also her scent. Out in the fresh air it’s assaulting, stuck in the cab of the truck it’s penetrating. It reminds me of clean sheets and fresh flowers. Pure, yet complex. Comforting and intoxicating. I resist the impulse to relax in her presence, determined to get through the day without the blackout I feel shading my mind.

We’re almost to the warehouse to pick up the tile, and we can’t get there soon enough. Her get-to-know-me games and light laughter had me more at ease than is safe.

Maybe it’s her no-BS way of communicating. Her ability to come right out and say whatever she’s thinking, damn the consequences. She is who she is, lays herself out there, and makes no apologies for it. She’s brave, and regardless of her gender, I can’t help but admire that. It’s when her curiosities are aimed at me, when she looks at me like I’m a puzzle to solve, my fear instincts flare and the darkness closes in.

We round the corner of a large brick building.

“If you can back up there.” Shyann points to the loading dock of the warehouse. “I’ll run up and ring the bell.”

I back in easily and she hops out, but rather than sit in the truck I follow her up to the door. She lifts her hand to ring the bell and jumps a little when she notices me behind her, but smiles.