Page 46 of Tangled Up In You
It was a realization that was, frankly, terrifying. It made Fitz feel vulnerable: an animal on its back, belly exposed. He realized as she sat cross-legged on her bed, brushing out her hair and causing longing to spiral through him like a wild vine, that it wasn’t only that he didn’t have time for fondness. He didn’t like the powerlessness of it. Didn’t like the feeling that he was just handing over keys to a castle he had protected for so long. He imagined the pages of a calendar flying away, tried to relish the thought of a time next week when he wouldn’t be so close to her all the time, sent a steel door slamming shut on whatever these feelings were.
But once they were back on the road with the windows down, fresh air flowing inside, all he could smell was the honeyed sweetness of her hair. He lifted his to-go coffee and brought it to his lips, needing distraction. Luckily, the once-scalding drink was finally cool enough to sip.
But the moment his senses cleared, her cheerful voice filled the car: “How many miles are we driving today?”
“About seven hundred.” He set the cup back in the cupholder. “We’re aiming for Kansas City.”
Ren clapped. “Kansas City! That sounds amazing.”
“You’ve really never done anything if Kansas City gets that reaction.” He glanced in amusement over at her excitement as she gazed out the window. “If you could have gone anywhere growing up, where would it be?”
She hummed, thinking. “You know what’s weird? You don’t know what you’re missing until you see it,” she said. “I knew there were things to see out there, but I didn’t think anything could possibly be more beautiful than our land. So, actually…I don’t know where I’d have wanted to go. The idea is almost overwhelming. I have so much to catch up on.” She fidgeted with the rubber seal around her open window. “I wonder if going to school and on this trip with you has ruined me.”
“Ruined you?”
She laughed self-consciously. “I mean whether I’ll ever be happy just living on the homestead again.”
He hated how much hope he felt hearing her say that. For as much as Fitz had avoided thinking about it, he didn’t like the idea of Ren disappearing from the world again at some point. “Don’t you plan to go back eventually?”
She stared out the window, lost in thought, saying only an absent “Yeah.”
Fitz was about to remind her that she was an adult and could make whatever choice felt right for her when she seemed to snap out of it and turned to him with a bright smile. “Let’s play a game.”
“No.”
“This is a fun one,” she insisted. “I’ll answer your questions if you answer mine.”
“You’ll answer mine anyway.”
“Come on, Fitz, you want to just sit here in silence?”
“Yes, actually.”
Only…he wasn’t sure that was true anymore. The problem was he knew he couldn’t answer her questions with his usual smooth evasions and cover stories. The backstory he’d painstakingly constructed at school—about his rich parents, his life of luxuriant happiness in Spokane, his easy ambition—wouldn’t work with Ren. He didn’t know how he knew this, but he did: She would see right through him. And the second Fitz let her in even a little, he worried that every secret about his past he’d kept wrapped up from the moment he stepped foot in the marbled atrium of the Fitzsimmons home would come tumbling out.
“How about I teach you how to make some bird calls?” she asked, pulling him out of his spiraling thoughts. “Technically that’s not speaking or singing, so I wouldn’t be breaking any rules.”
“I’m good.” Fitz glanced over his shoulder to change lanes and pass a slow truck.
She ignored this, folding one hand over the other. “So first you want to overlap your hands with your palms facing upward.”
“Ren.”
“Then you cup them, lifting them to your mouth, and—” She blew, letting out a sound like a dying loon.
“Okay,” he cut in, fighting a laugh when he caught a glimpse of her expression and realized she’d done this terrible call on purpose. Holy shit, she looked so proud of herself for making a joke. “God, fine, let’s play your game. But I’m skipping anything I don’t want to answer.”
She turned in her seat, pulling one leg under her to face him. “What are three things you’d take from your house in the zombie apocalypse?”
This pulled the laugh free. “That is not what I expected.”
“Want me to ask about girlfriends instead?”
“Definitely not.” Fitz wiped a hand across his face, feeling his smile crack open like a fault line. “Okay, I need a minute to think. Tell me yours first.”
“Duct tape, a pocketknife, and a cast-iron frying pan.”
“That came out of you so fast, I’m impressed and worried.”