I stared at him, my eyes wide with shock. Of all the things I’d expected him to say this wasn’t it.
“How? How’s it gonna be different, Sal?” I demanded hoarsely. “You couldn’t even hold my fucking hand when we were out together. You never even took me out on a freaking date! Not once! Do you have any idea how that made me feel? But I accepted it; I knew it was how you were. Along with all the walls so thick, I had no hope of breaking them down. And then what did you do?” I demanded, surprised at the venom in my voice. “You walked out on me!” I cried, all of the anger and hurt I’d felt for months rising to the surface in a tenacious wave. “And you expect me to believe all the reasons why you left have changed in six months? That I’m suddenly the girl for you because I certainly wasn’t before.” I demanded.
“Why didn’t you ever say any of this before?” he demanded, his own temper flaring.
“Because I didn’t want to try to change you! And I didn’t want to push too hard. I thought we hadtime. I tried to be patient because I loved you.”
Oh, shit, I hadn’t meant to say that.
“I’m sorry, youwhat?” he asked incredulously.
“Nothing, never mind,” I shook my head adamantly.
He took another step toward me and put his hands gently on my arms, peering down at me. “That was not nothing,” he pressed, his eyes glowing with warmth.
I remained silent, there was no way in hell I trusted my tongue at this point.
“I’ll get you to say it again,” he said more to himself than to me.
I simply shook my head in order to get a handle on the tumult of emotions raging through me. More tears spilled down my cheeks and I cursed myself for allowing myself to be this raw.
He pulled me into his arms in a tight embrace, and I gripped his shirt with my fists. I was so angry with him, but I loved him so much. He had me turned so inside out I didn’t know how to right myself again.
I felt him kiss the top of my head and squeeze me tighter still. “I’ve got you,” he whispered.
“You keep saying that,” I complained, my voice muffled by his shirt.
He chuckled. “Well, I do,” he said. “Haven’t you figured that out yet?”
“Sure of yourself,” I muttered.
“I’m sure of you,” he amended. “That has never changed,” he said as he peered down into my face. “Look,” he started with a sigh, “I learned a lot about myself while I was gone. I worked a lot of shit out. I’m still working it all out. And I want to tell you about it. I’m just…I’m still getting there. But, I want you to know I want to try. For you, for us, I want to try,” he told me earnestly.
That was big for Sal. No, that washuge.
“Let’s go home,” he suggested before I could ask him one of the million questions on the tip of my tongue. He put an arm around me and led us toward his bike. I didn’t miss the fact he’d called his place “home,” but I was too tired to argue semantics at the moment.
He handed me my helmet and swung his leg over the bike. The sound of it roaring to life sent an unexpected thrill through me.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I nodded, trying unsuccessfully to hide my enthusiasm at getting back on the bike.
“I’ll take the long way,” he chuckled.
We rode through the warm night, the air caressing my face. Despite all of the questions still unanswered, I felt a surprising sense of peace. I’d told Sal I loved him, something I’d always been scared to death to do. And he didn’t run for the hills. Instead, he seemed determined to have me say it again. I knew without a doubt, with this glimmer of hope for Sal and me, that I needed to take the chance. I’d grown up with next to nothing and had lived most of my life focused on survival. I wanted so badly to be happy, to be loved, and I wanted those things with Sal. Maybe he hadn’t changed. Maybe I’d get hurt again. But anything was better than never knowing, or trying to keep him at arm’s length when all I wanted to do was let him in.
Except now I didn’t know how to tell him about my new found epiphany.
We’d gotten home, taken turns getting ready for bed, and were now both lying in Sal’s bed. There hadn’t been any discussion about him sleeping on the couch, and I was glad to avoid it. He was lying on his back with his arm behind his head, the muscles in his arms on prominent display.
“You went to the garage?” he asked quietly through the dim light.
“Yeah,” I murmured, staring up at the ceiling.
“Why?”
It was such a simple question, and yet the answer was so confounding.