The vulnerability coating this beautiful woman is gut wrenching. I’m forced to keep myself grounded to prevent myself from drifting back to times where I lose control. The root of all-evil being trauma.

“When I returned from Afghanistan, they were a bitch to deal with.”

This gets her attention. Her black hair flies over her shoulders when she finally looks over to me. I take it as a cue to continue on.

“Saw a lot of nasty shit over there. Felt like a rat in a cage with bullets flying all around me.” I can no longer look at her, so I gaze back toward the street framing the grass. “The noise and constant action rattled my brain, and when I came back to the states, everything was so quiet. I couldn’t handle it. I’d spiral right into a panic attack.”

She squeezes my hand gently, not saying a word. I refuse prying to gain information from her. Some things in life are so profound, dark, and torrid hiding in a murky pool deep in our souls that recalling any of the past has the power to destroy you.

“Your momma is proud of you.” Her voice is soft and tender, lightening the mood.

I glance back over to Vannie to see she’s biting her bottom lip. It’s a snap reaction, and I don’t even think twice about it. I release her lip with the pad of my thumb. The connection fires up desire deep in my soul, and it’s all so fucking wrong because she’s broken. I’m just here visiting, waiting out the final days of my mom’s life, and then I’ll be gone. I can’t do this to her.

I drop my arm quickly and then smile when I realize she didn’t flinch or recoil from me.

“I have a past,” she blurts out.

“We all do, Vannie.” This time I squeeze her hand.

“It’s bad. I’m fucked up.” She pauses. “Why are you smiling?”

“It’s cute as hell to hear that naughty word come out of your mouth.”

She shakes her head and gifts me with a gentle grin. “I can cuss. I’m an adult.”

“Nice.”

“Want to know why I haven’t been here for a month and a half?”

I shrug, more than eager to know, but trying to play it cool. “If you want to share, Vannie.”

“I’ve been on the run since I was sixteen. Mostly living on the streets, but the towns that had homeless shelters, I’d stay there. The manager of the one on the east side of the city is the one who introduced me to Peaches. I never would’ve survived without their help. I try to volunteer as much as I can to give back.”

My teeth sink down on the inside of my cheek to cut off all the questions that want to spew from my mouth. She shared with me but left so many fucking questions behind. I know what it took for her to share was hard enough, but so many other issues linger.

“I’m fucked up.” Her hand in mine begins to tremble. “Have lots of issues, Hart. I’m sorry for that freak-out.”

“I’d been back in the states for nearly a month. I felt so out of place. I hid it from all my friends, but they knew. I became addicted to gambling and sex. One night it was so out of control that I was taken to the hospital and had my stomach pumped. When I finally came to, I was in a jail cell. The panic set in. I’d lost control of everything. I get that we don’t have the same story, but never apologize again for something you can’t control. Life has a funny way of fucking with our heads, leaving invisible scars all over our soul.”

“Thank you.”

I burst out laughing, falling back onto the grass.

“What the hell?” She pulls her hand from mine, looking down at me with a concerned face.

“You just thanked me for telling you how fucked up I am. Now that’s funny shit. I don’t think anyone has ever responded with a thank you.”

In slow motion, a smile creeps over her face until a small giggle escapes her lips. “I like this Hart.”

“This one?” I point to my chest still lying back on the grass.

She nods.

“The sexy, funny one?”

“Who smells like he shit out Ralph Lauren, makes me laugh, and doesn’t take a clue very well. Yep, that one.”

The light sound of playful music begins to ring out. It’s barely audible, but I can still hear it. I pop up into an upright position. Vannie looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. Happy childhood memories flood in. The image of Belle racing to Mom’s money jar and then her sprinting outside make me smile.

“C’mon, let’s go.” I reach for her hand, tugging her up, then reach in my back pocket for my wallet.

“Whoa. What are we doing?” she asks in confusion.

“Don’t you hear it?” I pick up our pace, running to the sound of the soft music.

“Um, no.”

“It’s a Small World, baby.”

“Okay, but you’re confusing me.”

“Just run! We have to beat all the snotty-nosed neighborhood brats. If those little bastards get the last King Cone, there will be hell to pay.”

This time Vannie doesn’t ask any questions and only giggles while running with me. When we round the block, the ice cream truck comes into view. Jackpot. I check my surroundings and don’t spot any children racing us to the truck.

“Don’t slow down now.” I pull Vannie along at top speed.

We’re the first customers to reach the truck. Vannie drops my hand, bends over with her palms planted on her legs. She gasps for oxygen between her fits of laughter. It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. It’s wrong, very wrong that the crotch of my jeans grows tight after what just happened on the front lawn. It has a damn mind of its own.

The elderly man in the truck is friendly with a jubilant smile. “What can I getcha?”

“One King Cone, drumstick, and ice cream sandwich for me.” I turn to look at Vannie with raised eyebrows, waiting on her order.

She shrugs then grows nervous. I lean down to whisper in her ear.

“It’s an ice cream truck. What do you want?”

“I don’t know,” she whispers back.

“Do you trust me?” I ask, letting my lips brush the lobe of her ear.

“I’m starting to.”

“Here you go, son.” The man hands me the three ice creams.

“And we will also take an orange push-up, firecracker, and crunch bar.”

Vannie tugs on my arm as the man ducks his head back into the truck to gather the ice cream.

“That’s too much, Hart.”

“Woman.” I stand back with a shocked look on my face. “We cannot be friends with harsh comments like that.”

“I’ll never be able to eat all of it.”

I smile, loving the fun mood we’ve found ourselves in. “You know what they say about men with big appetites?”

She shakes her head.

“They have big appetites.”

She swats my chest. I love the contact but have to remember to rein in my flirty nature.

“Nine dollars.”

I nudge Vannie up to the truck so she can grab her ice cream then pluck a ten-dollar bill from my wallet. A stampede of kids races up behind us.

“Keep the change.” I nod to the man.

“That’s why we had to race. If you wait for the truck to get to your house all the good shit is sold out. Those little bastards are swift and love their ice cream.”

“Hart, I don’t even know where to start.” Vannie holds up her ice creams.

I already have the wrapper off the King Cone and the first few bites down. “Do you like chocolate or are you more of a fruity girl?”

“Is this a serious question?” she asks.

“I don’t joke around with shit like this.”

We walk slowly while Vannie takes her time deciding. Her head tilts from side to side making her internal struggle loud and clear.

“What would you eat first?” she finally asks.

“Well, I’m a selfish bastard. I’d tell you to eat the firecracker first because I’m really hoping I get that push up from you.”

She smiles, nods, and then tries to get the wrapper off the crunch bar, defiantly. Her hands are too tiny to juggle all the items. I reach over and grab them from her, easily cupping all four treats in my hand.

We make it back to the front lawn, sit, and enjoy the ice cream. I’m on my third one while Vannie still nibbles on her crunch bar.

“I had a sister,” I blurt out. “We used to live for ice cream trucks. I’d get so pissed because back then her legs were longer and she could run faster. And even though she’d always get the last King Cone, she’d end up giving it to me after taunting me.”

Vannie looks over at me with a piece of chocolate dangling from her bottom lip. I watch as she licks her lips, cleaning them, and I have to fight not to moan out loud. I want to kiss her so badly it hurts. It’s the taste of her mouth I’m craving right now not ice cream.

“I’ve never heard of ice cream trucks.”

“Really?” I ask.

She nods. We don’t fall back into a heavy conversation. Instead we laugh, eat, and then I wallow miserably on the grass from a bellyache. Hours pass. The dark night sky envelopes us with those twinkling stars smiling down at us.

“I should get going.”

I stutter over my words not knowing how to handle this. I do know that there’s no way in hell she’ll be walking to the bus stop and yet I don’t want to push her back into my car.

“Okay, let’s go.” I hop up holding a hand out.

She hesitates for a minute before standing up. I don’t give her a chance before tugging her down the sidewalk.

“What are you doing?” she finally asks.

“Walking you to the bus stop.”

“Hart, you don’t have to.”

I glare down at her, answering the question silently. I half expect a fight to come from her, but she doesn’t say a word. The bus stop is vacant when we finally make it there. I shudder picturing Vannie all alone on the abandoned street with danger lurking around every corner. This is going to be a topic I will not give up on.

“Hart?”

“Yeah?” I glance over to her and quit casing our surroundings.

“I’ve thought about how to say this over and over, but it’s probably going to sound like a dick move. I like you. I don’t do relationships. Peaches has pushed me to open up. I want to be friends with you, but that’s all I can do.”

“I get that and appreciate that.” I tuck my hands down in my pockets knowing I can’t go any further with her because I’m here for only a limited time. My wild heart will be ready to travel and crave new adventures. “I just can’t promise that all this sexiness won’t wear you down.”

Vannie doesn’t refuse when I board the bus with her. We sit right next to each other engaging in a battle over country versus rock and roll. It’s a losing battle for both of us with no sign of meeting in the middle.

“I can do country as in sexy cowboy giddy-up,” I reply, getting off the bus with her even though her apartment is in clear sight.

“Hart. Country isn’t about looking sexy. It’s about the words of the song, the way it makes your soul fly.”

“Well, as close to country as I’m getting is dressing up like a cowboy.”

“I have a feeling that would be funny as hell.”

We make it to the entrance of her apartment building. “Are you challenging me, Savannah Ray?”

“Maybe,” she smiles.

And it’s a smile that lights up her whole face. It’s genuine, raw, and honest, making me feel shit I can’t even begin to think about.

“You’re gorgeous when you smile.”

I force myself to step away knowing I’m playing in the gray area of our friendship code. Vannie is a girl who deserves to be told on a daily basis how beautiful she is.

“Good night, Hart.” She opens the door, but before disappearing into her building, she looks back at me. “Thank you for the ice cream.”

“Anytime.”

I waltz back to the bus stop wondering just what else this woman hasn’t experienced and what kind of life she’s endured to get here.