Archer's Voice (A Sign of Love Novel)(79)

He put his hands up in a 'don't shoot me' mock pose, and I cocked my head to the side, waiting.
Travis took a folded paper out of his back pocket and when he got to where I was standing, handed it to me. I took it, but didn't open it.
"Application for a learner's permit," he said. "You'll just need to bring your birth certificate and proof of address with you. A water bill or whatever."
I raised my eyebrows, glancing down at the paper. What did he have up his sleeve now?
"I owe you an apology for what I did with the strip club thing. It was… immature and uncool. And I'm actually glad to see that you and Bree worked it out. I think she really likes you, man."
I wanted to ask him how he knew that–I knew she liked me, maybe more, but I longed to hear what she had told Travis about me, if anything. Of course, even if I'd been able to, it wouldn't be a good idea to ask him–he'd just mess with me, most likely. But I didn't know how to talk about all my feelings with Bree. I knew sex didn't equal love, so how would I know if she loved me if she didn't tell me? And if she wasn't telling me, did that mean that she didn't love me? I was all twisted up and I had no one to talk to.
And the hell of it was, I knew I loved her–fiercely and with every part of my heart, even the broken parts, even the parts that felt unworthy and without value. And maybe those parts most of all.
"So," Travis went on, "can we call a truce? All's fair in love and war and all that? You win, you won the girl. Can't blame a guy for trying though, right? No hard feelings?" He held his hand out to me.
I looked at it. I trusted Travis about as far as I could throw him, but what was the point in making this some kind of ongoing war between us? He was right–I'd won. Bree was mine. With the thought alone, a fierce possessiveness roared through me. I reached out and shook his hand, still eyeing him distrustfully.
Travis rested his thumbs on his gun belt. "So I guess you already know that Bree's friends are in town–her hometown friends."
I frowned and pulled my head back slightly and gave myself away. Travis got an 'oh shit,' look on his face. "Shit, she didn't tell you?" he asked. He looked away and then back at me. "Well, I'm sure it's gotta be hard for her, I mean, here she is, she likes you and at some point, she's gotta go home, back to her real life. That's a tough position to be in."
Home? To her real life? What the hell was he talking about?
Travis studied me and sighed out a breath and ran a hand through his hair. "Shit man, you don't have some kind of delusion that she's going to stay here and work in a small town diner all her life, do you? Maybe come live in this little clapboard shack you call a house and have lots of babies that you'll have no way to support?" He laughed, but when I didn't, his smile drained away and a pitying look replaced it. "Oh hell, that's exactly what you hope, isn't it?"
Blood was roaring in my ears. I hadn't exactly pictured any of that, but the thought of her leaving at all had icy fear racing through my veins.
"Fuck. Listen Archer, when I said you won her, I just meant for the meantime, for a few warm nights, a couple dalliances in your truck. I mean, good for you, you deserve that, man. But shit, don't start fantasizing about more than that. She might tell you she'll stay–she'll probably even mean it for a little while. But a girl like Bree, she went to college, she wants a life eventually. She's here to get away temporarily, to heal a wound–and then she'll leave. And why wouldn't she? What do you have to really offer her? Bree's beautiful–there will always be a guy who wants her and can give her more." He shook his head. "What can you give her, Archer? Really?"
I was standing frozen in front of this *. I wasn't so stupid that I didn't see what he was doing. He was playing a card. But unfortunately for me, the card he was playing was based in truth. He had a winning hand and he knew it. That's what he had come to do–destroy me with the truth. To remind me that I was nothing. And maybe it was a good reminder.
I didn't even know if he wanted her anymore. He might not. But now it was about me not having her either. He was going to win, in one way or another. I saw it–I knew. I had seen that same look on another man's face once. I remembered what it meant.
He took another deep breath, looking slightly embarrassed, or maybe pretending to. He cleared his throat. "Anyway," he pointed to the piece of paper in my hand, "good luck with the permit. You shouldn't have to walk everywhere you go." He nodded at me. "Take care, Archer."