nothing as he leans back in his chair. I can tell he is trying to decide if there is more to my statement than what’s on the surface.
Let him wonder. Let him think.
This session’s over as far as I’m concerned.
Tick, tick, tock.
* * *
Past…
“Come on, Addison. Let me take you home.”
I could tell she had gone somewhere in her head because she was no longer talking as she stood beside me. She was counting.
One, two, three. One, two, three.
Over and over she repeated the numbers, and the instinct to wrap her in my arms now came from concern. She was visibly upset, and I wasn’t sure if my touch would help to calm her or cause further distress.
“Addison?” I coaxed.
Her hair shifted softly in the breeze, and when those blue eyes of hers found me, I thought she appeared as perfect as the first time I’d met her.
The perfection, however, was marred. Not in a horrible disfigured way but on a deep subconscious level. She searched my face, for what I wasn’t sure, and continued to count— one, two, three —in a way that I would never stop hearing.
This girl was damaged. Why hadn’t I seen that?
She was broken, and some part of me wanted to fix her.
I took her hand, gently squeezing her fingers, and with that small touch, the counting stopped.
“Let’s go. You can tell me more on the way,” I said, walking us back in the direction we’d come.
She was silent the entire way.
Like someone lost, she let me lead her, and I couldn’t stop myself from wondering what would’ve happened if she’d trusted the wrong person?
Or had she?
I unlocked the doors and shook off the thought. Before she climbed into the cab, into the small space I would soon lock myself into beside her, she said so softly I almost missed it, “You make it go away.”
Not understanding, I asked, “I make what go away?”
Dropping all pretense, she replied, “The chaos.”
* * *
I climbed into his truck and watched him walk around the front.
I wondered how he did it. How did he make it all stop?
He got into the seat beside me and pulled the door shut, sealing us inside.
“I’m sorry,” I offered, thinking I needed to say something to make him understand that I didn’t mean to be peculiar—I just was.
I was forever trying to hide this side of myself, never wanting to show I was anything other than okay, but with him it was different.
He didn’t know the story. He hadn’t been there that day.
Not like the rest of them.
Grayson started up the truck, but instead of leaving, he switched on the interior light. For the first time tonight, I felt like I was back in his classroom because the look he was giving me was expectant and concerned.
“Want to tell me what’s going on, Addison?”
I began to nibble on my thumbnail, and almost like it was habit, he swatted it away from my mouth. “Bad habit?”
I shrugged, feeling shy.
“A nervous one.”
He pulled away, and I knew he’d taken that wrong. I reached across the space between us and brought his hand back to me, placing it on my bare leg.
“ You don’t make me nervous…” I trailed off, concentrating instead on how large his hand was where it rested on my thigh.
“I should.”
“Why?”
His fingers flexed, but before he could remove them, I placed mine on top.
“Because you’re older than me? Or because you’re my teacher?”
“God, Addison,” he groaned, sounding tortured. I squeezed my hand, pressing his fingers harder against my naked flesh. “ Both of those reasons, and…”
Having forgotten all about my moment of weird, I licked my lips and dared to ask, “And?”
I watched as he shifted in his seat so he could face me.
“And because of all the things I’m thinking.”
I could feel my breathing coming faster. He pushed his hair behind his ear, and suddenly, I was burning up. It was hot, too hot.
Not ready to release my contact with him, I used my other hand to unbutton my coat. When I pulled it apart, I
Let him wonder. Let him think.
This session’s over as far as I’m concerned.
Tick, tick, tock.
* * *
Past…
“Come on, Addison. Let me take you home.”
I could tell she had gone somewhere in her head because she was no longer talking as she stood beside me. She was counting.
One, two, three. One, two, three.
Over and over she repeated the numbers, and the instinct to wrap her in my arms now came from concern. She was visibly upset, and I wasn’t sure if my touch would help to calm her or cause further distress.
“Addison?” I coaxed.
Her hair shifted softly in the breeze, and when those blue eyes of hers found me, I thought she appeared as perfect as the first time I’d met her.
The perfection, however, was marred. Not in a horrible disfigured way but on a deep subconscious level. She searched my face, for what I wasn’t sure, and continued to count— one, two, three —in a way that I would never stop hearing.
This girl was damaged. Why hadn’t I seen that?
She was broken, and some part of me wanted to fix her.
I took her hand, gently squeezing her fingers, and with that small touch, the counting stopped.
“Let’s go. You can tell me more on the way,” I said, walking us back in the direction we’d come.
She was silent the entire way.
Like someone lost, she let me lead her, and I couldn’t stop myself from wondering what would’ve happened if she’d trusted the wrong person?
Or had she?
I unlocked the doors and shook off the thought. Before she climbed into the cab, into the small space I would soon lock myself into beside her, she said so softly I almost missed it, “You make it go away.”
Not understanding, I asked, “I make what go away?”
Dropping all pretense, she replied, “The chaos.”
* * *
I climbed into his truck and watched him walk around the front.
I wondered how he did it. How did he make it all stop?
He got into the seat beside me and pulled the door shut, sealing us inside.
“I’m sorry,” I offered, thinking I needed to say something to make him understand that I didn’t mean to be peculiar—I just was.
I was forever trying to hide this side of myself, never wanting to show I was anything other than okay, but with him it was different.
He didn’t know the story. He hadn’t been there that day.
Not like the rest of them.
Grayson started up the truck, but instead of leaving, he switched on the interior light. For the first time tonight, I felt like I was back in his classroom because the look he was giving me was expectant and concerned.
“Want to tell me what’s going on, Addison?”
I began to nibble on my thumbnail, and almost like it was habit, he swatted it away from my mouth. “Bad habit?”
I shrugged, feeling shy.
“A nervous one.”
He pulled away, and I knew he’d taken that wrong. I reached across the space between us and brought his hand back to me, placing it on my bare leg.
“ You don’t make me nervous…” I trailed off, concentrating instead on how large his hand was where it rested on my thigh.
“I should.”
“Why?”
His fingers flexed, but before he could remove them, I placed mine on top.
“Because you’re older than me? Or because you’re my teacher?”
“God, Addison,” he groaned, sounding tortured. I squeezed my hand, pressing his fingers harder against my naked flesh. “ Both of those reasons, and…”
Having forgotten all about my moment of weird, I licked my lips and dared to ask, “And?”
I watched as he shifted in his seat so he could face me.
“And because of all the things I’m thinking.”
I could feel my breathing coming faster. He pushed his hair behind his ear, and suddenly, I was burning up. It was hot, too hot.
Not ready to release my contact with him, I used my other hand to unbutton my coat. When I pulled it apart, I
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