Page 43 of The Professor's Wife

“And then?” I asked.

“Then I keep driving, like I’ve been doing. Keep hitting the road and chasing those sunsets.”

I nodded with understanding and closed the album carefully, handing it back. “This is a beautiful album, Tristan. Thank you for showing me, and for opening up to me about this part of your life.”

He took it but didn’t look away from me.

Abruptly, he said, “Come with me.”

I froze. “What?”

“Come on the road. Just for a while. You don’t have to promise me anything.”

I hesitated. My heart thudded. “Tristan…”

“You don’t know where you’re going. I never know where the fuck I’m going. It makes sense.”

“Leaving with you doesn’t make sense.”

“Then it doesn’t have to.”

“Nowyou’renot making sense.”

He didn’t smile at my teasing response. He remained solemn. “I don’t want this to end.”

I didn’t move. I kept my eyes locked on his. “You can’t be serious, though.”

“I am.”

My guard slipped, and a moment of terror shot through me.

If I left with him…I was too vulnerable.

Didn’t he see that?

Didn’t he understand that I was a piece of broken trash?

At the same time, he didn’t want this to end.

And I…

My heart continued to pound. “Tristan…”

“I know you’re scared,” he said, his voice low. “And yeah, I’m rough around the edges. Fuck, I’ve got places inside myself I didn’t know could corrode. Probably don’t deserve another minute with you, but…I swear you don’t ever have to be scared of me. The world’s a scarier beast than I am, and I’d rather be your shadow than some ghost wondering how you’re surviving out here alone.”

He swallowed, whispering, “I don’t want us to walk away and become strangers.”

I didn’t answer right away. I couldn’t. His words sat heavily in the air, like fog that wouldn’t lift. Tristan didn’t move. He no longer spoke. He just waited for my answer.

“I don’t know what you think I am,” I said, my voice hardly above a whisper as I forced myself to look at him. “But I’m probably not it. I’m not mysterious or brave or beautiful in the way you seem to think. I’m just broken, Tristan. And scared. And so tired. And…I can’t be someone’s anything right now.”

He inched closer, his eyes burning into mine.

“You think I’m looking for perfect?” he asked. “I’m not. I’m looking atyou,Daze. Scared, exhausted, half-ready to run—and still here. Don’t turn that into something smaller than it is.”

I swallowed hard, my throat aching. “You don’t know me.”

“I want to,” he urged. “That’s the point.”