Page 7 of Easy

When he finally speaks, his voice is a soft timbre and it lulls like a seduction song. But his words are quite the opposite. They pierce and pull, tug and rip away at me. “There’s an incident in your past that you couldn’t overcome, or accept. You’re scared and alone, but the loneliness is self-afflicted. You shun people who are kind to you and trust isn’t something you believe in. There’s no such thing as love and you believe that you’re beyond hope—beyond saving. You hide beneath that assertive hair, that hard exterior shell you created. You hope to God no one gets past the façade because what lies beneath is so terrifying even you can’t faceit.”

It feels as if I’ve been struck. My throat tightens as the air is pulled from my body. Defense mode clicks on mid-speech and a flippant smile spreads across my face. My eyes roll to the side a little as a know-it-all smirk reaches my eyes. My body says he couldn’t be more wrong, but how did he read me that way…that close. It was a prediction of things to come, but an assessment of things that have already passed.

I laugh and feel my eyes crinkle as a hand finds his shirt. I press my palm lightly to his chest, splaying that hand as the other presses to my heart. I chortle, not looking him in the eye. I don’t deny it. That would come across too defensive and make him think he’s right. Instead, I do what I’ve always done and twist the truth into lies. “Let me guess, a failed psych major who still has fun analyzing everything?”

Icy eyes meet mine as a dark brow lifts. “I could keep going or…?” He glances at my hand, still on his chest, lying gingerly on the supple fabric of his shirt.

I hold his gaze and try not to back away from the intensity of it—of him. “Or?”

“Or I could helpyou.”

Bristling, I mutter under my breath, “I don’t needhelp.”

He lowers his face to mine and says softly, “No matter what you’ve been through and what you believe, I won’t hurt you. You have my word. I could call an Uber and leave you alone if that’s what you want, but that cut is on your right arm and you’re right handed. Fixing it up alone will be rough. I know you can do it, but maybe you don’t need to push back so hard tonight. Maybe you could make an exception this once?” He inclines his head towardme.

I finally manage to speak, but I find myself parroting back his question “An exception?”

There are no serious wounds on me. What the hell is he talking about? When I look down at my arm, I gasp. There’s a long deep cut that I don’t remember getting. Ribbons of blood have caked into a burnt color and dried on my arm, but the cut is deep and still wet in the middle, still weeping.

My head feels too heavy and I laugh, even though I want to cry. “I’mfine.”

He cocks his head to the side and catches my eyes. Carefully, he reaches out and places a hand on my shoulder. I don’t shake him off. His voice is soft, sincere, “Don’t send me away. Not yet.” He doesn’t pull back when I stare at his hand like it's wrong, like the gesture is a mistake—like he’s a mistake.

Time unknits in that moment. The franticness evaporates as I stare at his strong hand, the same one that saved me earlier, the palm of the man I Tasered more than once tonight. For some reason he’s still here, still offering mehelp.

He should have run. I should have shoved him out of the car and into a field.

This friendship can only end in heartache and destruction because that’s what it means to be a Ferro. I’ve watched it happen to my brothers and cousins more times than I can bear. The solace of this place gives me distance to realize that I’m better off alone, that I’ll tank anyone kind enough to help me. I know what my family is capable of, and I know they’ll disapprove ofhim.

I also know that a musician in no-where Texas who has the heart of a cowboy but dresses like a city guy makes me wonder. There’s a dichotomy inside him and he’s not conflicted about it. I want to know how. I want to be able to accept who I am and the choices I’ve made with such ease. Or maybe I’m so weary and alone that I find my answer has changed from the time I first made up mymind.

The sound tumbles over my lips unexpectedly, making my heart jump. “Okay.”

He smiles and adds, “My name is Chase, by the way.” I nod, unable to speak, and turn away from him to unlock thedoor.