Driving Me Mad
He’s quiet, lost in his own head, and most likely, he’s still worrying. So far, with this thing we have going on, he’s never really pulled away from me. Although, the opportunity hasn’t been there before either. That scares the hell out of me. He’s my rock, always has been. How am I supposed to stay steady and strong with him cracking?
When we walk outside and he goes to open the passenger door for me, I stop him. “Trace,” I start, but no other words come.
He sighs. The cold air is making his breath visible. “I know, Britt. I know.” He pulls me against him and wraps his arms around me. I’m glad he knows because I sure don’t. My head rests on his chest, my arms firmly around him, and I relish in the feel of his big, strong, sturdy body. We stand there in silence for about a minute. “It’s going to be hard, you know.”
“Why?” Why does it have to be hard? Why does everything have to be so damn hard all the damn time?
“Because we’re both not quite sane,” he says with a half-sigh and half-serious tone.
I can’t help it; I laugh. I turn my face inward to press my forehead against his jacket, and I can’t stop freaking giggling. We’re not crazy; but he’s right. We’re not quite sane either.
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