The drive home from Malibu is beautiful as is expected, but the cloud cover starts to move in and smother the coastline the closer we get to Santa Monica. We talk about this and that, nothing serious, but at the same time I sense that Colton is distancing himself a bit from me. It’s nothing he says per se, but it’s more what’s not said.

He’s not rude, just quiet, but it’s noticeable. Those little touches are absent. The knowing looks and soft smiles gone. The playful banter silenced.

I assume that he’s taking the drive to think about his dream, so I leave him to his thoughts and stare out the window watching the coastline fly by. The radio’s on low and the song, Just Give Me a Reason by Pink plays softly in the background as we exit the highway and head toward my house. I sing softly, the words making me think about this morning, and as I hit the chorus, I notice Colton glance over at me in my periphery. I know when he hears the lyrics because he shakes his head and the slightest of smiles graces his lips; his silent acknowledgement of my knack for finding the perfect song to express my feelings.

We remain in a contemplative silence for a bit longer until Colton finally speaks. “So um, I’ve got a crazy busy schedule the next two weeks.” He glances over at me momentarily, and I nod at him before he looks back at the stoplight in front of us. “I’ve got a commercial to shoot for the Merit endorsement, an interview with Playboy, um…Late Night with Kimmel, and a whole lot of other shit,” he says as the light turns green. “And that doesn’t include all of the dog-and-pony shows coming up for the sponsorship with you guys.”

I take no offense to the comment because I’m not too thrilled with the dog-and pony- show junket either. “Well that’s good, right? Publicity is always good.”

“Yeah.” I can tell he’s irritated at the thought as he slips his sunglasses on. “Tawn’s doing a great job garnering press this year. It’s good and all...and I’m grateful that there’s the attention, but the more shit there is, the less time I have on the track. And that’s where I need to concentrate my time with the season right around the fucking corner.”

“Understandably,” I tell him, unsure what else to say as we pull onto my street, unable to help the smug smile that tugs at the corners of my mouth. It’s been a profound twenty-four hours with Colton. He’s let me into his personal world some, and that counts for something. Our sexual chemistry remains off the charts, and I think it actually intensified after our night together. I told him about Max, and he listened with compassion and without passing judgment.

Then we had this morning. An hour filled with poisonous words and overwhelming emotions.

And not once did he mention his idiotic arrangement to me. How he’ll only accept less when I’ll only accept more; we find ourselves at a proverbial impasse despite his actions expressing the exact opposite.

Maybe my smile reflects my optimism over the possibilities between us. That Colton’s unspoken words speak just as much to me as his spoken ones do.

I sigh as we pull into the driveway, and Colton opens the door for me. He offers me a tight smile before placing his hand on the small of my back and directing us up my front walkway. I struggle to figure out what his silence is saying, to not read into it too much.

“Thank you for a great night,” I tell him as I turn to face him on the front porch, a shy smile on my lips, “and…” I let the word drift off as I figure out how to address today.

“A fucked up morning?” he finishes for me, regret heavy in his voice and shame swimming in his eyes.

“Yes, that too,” I admit softly as Colton turns his attention to the absent fiddling with the ring of keys in his hand. “But we got through it…”

His gaze fixates on his keys, his eyes never lifting to meet mine when he speaks. “Look, I’m sorry.” He sighs, shoving a hand through his hair. “I just don’t know how to—”

“Colton, it’s okay,” I tell him, lifting my hand to squeeze his bicep—some form of touch to let him know I’ve said my piece about this morning and my lack of tolerance of it happening again.

“No, it’s not okay.” He finally lifts his head up, and I can see the conflicting emotions in his eyes, can feel the indecision of his thoughts. “You don’t deserve to have to deal with this…with all my shit,” he murmurs quietly, almost as if he’s trying to convince himself of his own words. And I realize that his internal struggle has to do with so much more than just this morning.

His eyes swim with regret, and he reaches out to tuck a loose lock of hair behind my ear as I search his face to try and understand his unspoken words. “Colton, what are you—”

“Look at what I did to you this morning. The things I said. How I hurt you and pushed you away? That’s me. That’s what I do. I don’t know how to—shit!” he grits out before turning and looking out toward the street where a teenager is making his way down the sidewalk. I focus on the thunk-thunk of his wheels as they hit the lines in the sidewalk panels while I process what Colton is saying. He turns back around and the lines etched in his striking features cause me to close my eyes momentarily and take a deep breath to prepare for what’s coming next. For what I see written on his resigned expression.

“I care for you, Ry. I care about you.” He shakes his head, the muscle in his jaw pulsing as he clenches his jaw, trying to find the right words. “I just don’t know how to be...” He stumbles through words trying to get out what he wants to say. “You at least deserve someone that’s going to try to be that for you.”

“Try to be what for me, Colton?” I ask taking a step closer as he takes a step back, unwilling to allow him to break our connection. My bewilderment in regards to his confusing statements does nothing to squash the unease that creeps into the pit of my stomach and crawls up to squeeze at my heart. I part my lips and breathe in deeply.

His discomfort is apparent and I want nothing more than to reach out and wrap my arms around him. Reassure him with the physical connection he seems to need more than anything. He looks down again and blows out a breath in frustration while I suck one in.

“You at least deserve someone that’s going to try to be what you need. Give you what you want…and I don’t think I’m capable of that.” He shakes his head, eyes fixed on his damn keys. The raw honesty in his words causes my heart to lodge in my throat. “Thank you for being you…for coming back this morning.”

He finally says something I can latch on to, a diving board I have to jump from. “That’s exactly right!” I tell him. Using one of his moves, I reach out and lift his chin up so he’s forced to meet my eyes, so he’s forced to see that I’m not scared of the way he is. That I can be strong enough for the both of us while he works through the shit in his head. “I came back. For you. For me. For who we are when we’re together. For the possibilities of what we can be if you’ll just let me in…”

I run my hand over the side of his cheek and cradle it there. He closes his eyes at my touch. “It’s just too much, too fast, Rylee.” He breathes and opens his eyes to meet mine. The fear there is heartbreaking. “For so long I’ve…your selflessness is so consuming that it…” he struggles, reaching up to take my hand framing his face in his own. “I can’t give you what you need because I don’t know how to live—to feel—to breathe—if I’m not broken. And being with you? You deserve someone that’s whole. I just can’t…”

The words to the song from the car flash into my mind, and they are out before I can stop myself. “No, Colton. No.” I tell him, making sure his eyes are on mine. “You’re not broken, Colton. You’re just bent.”

Despite my saying it with serious intent, Colton belts out a self-deprecating laugh at the apropos corniness of me using a song lyric to try and express myself. He shakes his head at me. “Really, Ry? A song lyric?” he asks, and I just shrug at him, willing to try anything to break him out of this rut he keeps returning to. I watch as his smile fades and the concern returns to his eyes. “I just need time to process this…you…it’s just too…”

I can feel his pain and rather than just stand there and watch it manifest in his eyes, I opt to give him what he needs to confirm our connection. I step up to him and brush my lips against his. Once. Twice. And then I slip my tongue between his lips and connect with his. He won’t hear the words, so I need to show him with this. With fingertips whispering over his jaw and up through his hair. With my body pressed tight against him. With my tongue dancing with his in a lazy, decadent kiss.

He slowly lets go of the tension in his body as he accepts and gives in to the feeling between us. The desire. The need. The truth. His hands slide up to cup the sides of my face, thumbs brushing tenderly over my cheeks. Rough to soft, just like the two of us. He places a last, lingering kiss on my lips and then rests his forehead onto mine. We sit there for a moment, eyes closed, breath feathering over one another, and souls searching.

I feel settled. Content. Connected.

“Pit stop,” he whispers against my lips.

The words come out of nowhere, and I jolt at their sound. Come again? I try to pull back to look at him, but he keeps a firm grip on my head and holds me against him, forehead to forehead. I’m not sure how to respond. My heart’s unable to follow the path he’s just chosen while my head is already five steps ahead of him.