All Things Pretty (Pretty #3)(44)
Author: M. Leighton

Travis seems to be enjoying the last couple of days. I know it’ll be hard on him when Tonin comes back, too. And that pisses me off. It’s not just Tommi that Tonin’s screwing with. It’s an innocent kid, too.

We finish our pancakes and head out to “Shoot the Hooch.” I promised Travis I’d take them tubing down the Chattahoochee today. We are well on our way to the closest entrance when Tommi’s phone rings. A silence steals over the cab of my truck and I know that we’re all thinking the same thing. And even though Travis doesn’t know everything that’s going on, he’s a bright enough kid to figure out that the way things have been will change dramatically when Tonin gets back.

Tommi glances at her phone and then up at me, her heart in her eyes. She looks almost frantic.

She turns her upper body away from me, clears her throat and answers the phone, plugging her other ear. “You back?” I hear her ask, a note of hopefulness in her voice. It’s pretty damn convincing, which bothers the shit out of me.

I don’t even try not to listen to each muted “yeah” and “uh-huh” and “I missed you, too.” It’s when I hear her say, “Today?” that I curl my fingers into a fist.

When she gets off the phone, I see her chest rise with a deep breath and she turns a disappointed face to Travis. “We’ll have to shoot the hooch another time, Trav. Lance is back and he wants to see me.”

“So? What about what you want?” he snaps.

“Travis, you know I–”

“Save it. Just take me home. I’ll go to Trip’s.”

“Travis, we can still go,” I offer.

“Just forget it. I wanna go home.”

On the way back, the atmosphere inside the truck couldn’t be any more different than it was five minutes ago. I could chew steel and spit nails, yet Tommi’s just sitting in her seat, quietly pretending this is all okay.

I drive them home in silence. When Travis gets out, Tommi turns to me, “I’ll be right back.”

I watch her walk stiffly to the front door and let them in. I watch her walk stiffly back to the truck fifteen minutes later, her hair flowing smoothly down her back, her body encased in a knee-length little dress that’s open halfway down her back.

I’m so pissed, I don’t say a word until we get to the garage. I cut the engine and we sit in the strained quiet until Tommi finally speaks.

“I have to go.”

“You don’t have to do anything.”

“I do. You knew this was how it would be. You knew it couldn’t last.”

“That’s your choice, not mine.”

“If I could make any other one, I would. But I can’t.”

“Why?” I grind out. “Tell me why.”

She worries her lip. “You know I can’t do that.”

“Again, you can, you just won’t.”

“Sig, it’s the same thing to me–can’t and won’t. The reasons why I won’t are the same as why I can’t. My hands are tied.”

“I don’t believe that.” I could strangle her. Or Tonin. Somebody. I’m fuming.

Right up until I see tears fill her eyes. “I knew this was a mistake,” she croaks.

I put an iron fist around my temper. Being an asshole isn’t getting me anywhere. I exhale, reaching for her hand. “I’m sorry. I…you didn’t deserve that. I just…god, I hate it!” I lean my head back, stroking her palm with my thumb.

“I wish I could change it, but I can’t.” When I turn my eyes back to Tommi, lonely tears are streaming silently down both cheeks and her chin is trembling.

I cup the back of her neck and pull her to me, pressing my forehead to hers. “I’d change it for you if you’d just let me.”

“You can’t,” she cries brokenly. “Nobody can.”

I raise my head until my lips are touching her forehead. “But that was before you met me. I can help you, Tommi. I promise. You just have to trust me.”

“Maybe one day,” she says, tucking her face into the curve of my shoulder.

I wrap my arms around her, holding her tight until her shaking stops. “Remember what I told you,” I tell her.

She leans back to look at me, her eyes all big and glassy and tortured. “What?”

“Think of me. No matter what, think of me.” I take her lips in a kiss that’s meant to sear her all the way through what she has to face, whatever she feels like she has to hide, right down to her soul. I’m not sure, though, that it doesn’t sear me, too. One thing is for damn sure: It only made it that much harder to let her go, to walk her upstairs and into the arms of another man. And it was already hard as hell.

“Maybe you shouldn’t come up,” she says hesitantly, pulling away and looking at my lips rather than my eyes.

“Why?”

Her voice cracks. “Because if you do, I’m not sure I can go through with this.”

“Then don’t! I told you that I’d–”

“I know what you said. And you know what I said. So here we are. Stuck. Just like I knew we would be.” It’s her turn to lean her head back and exhale. She closes her eyes for a few seconds and then opens them, sitting up straighter and squaring her shoulders in determination. “But it’s what I have to do. You…you don’t have to wait for me,” she says, gaze focused on the windshield.

“Hey,” I say, squeezing her hand until she looks at me. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Her smile is small, but relieved. “I’ll go up by myself. There’s no reason to make this worse than it already is.”

“But I want to take you up.”

“I didn’t mean for you.”

What am I supposed to say to that? I don’t want to make it harder for her, too. So I won’t. I won’t to, I won’t argue with her on this. As tough as it is to sit here and let this happen, some part of me knows that it has to. Until she tells me what the hell is going on, I can’t help her.

“I’ll be right here. Waiting.”

She turns toward the door and then, after a moment’s hesitation, she abandons the handle and flings herself into my arms, kissing me with all the passion I know her to be capable of. “I won’t be long.”

I say nothing because that’s a promise we both know she can’t make.

I watch her until she’s through the doors and out of sight. The only constructive thing I can think of with which to busy myself is looking over the files Finch mentioned. Maybe there will be something in them that will help me figure out what’s going on and how I can help get Tommi out of this mess.