The truck slowed as he turned down my road, and I ground my teeth in irritation.
“Did I, at any point, give you the impression that I expected more from you?” Sure, I had been open to more, but I knew what the score was. He’d made me no promises, and I hadn’t asked for any either. He glanced over at me, a hint of surprise at my response written across his expression.
“No,” he drew out slowly like he was replaying the entire interaction in his head.
“I had no illusions about what this was. Like you, I was simply looking for a good time. After finding out my ex was cheating on me, I wanted to feel desired, and you gave me that,” I explained honestly.
Donovan parked in front of my apartment and raked a hand through his hair before rubbing it down his face. He stared out the window and heaved a deep breath before blowing it out slowly. I continued, needing to get this out before my emotionsgot the best of me because remembering the way I felt when I woke up alone that morning without a word from him made my chest ache.
“I would’ve been open to exploring this further, but I didn’t go into that night thinking that’s what would happen. I was content with it being a one-time thing. What I’m not okay with is you not having enough respect for me, a woman you’ve known for years, to have a conversation about where we go from here.”
He turned to me then, his face twisted with anguish and his eyes full of regret. “Emily,” he croaked, his voice pleading. I continued, needing to get this off my chest.
“Instead, you snuck out like a thief in the night, like it had been a mistake and you couldn’t run far and fast enough to get away from it.” My voice began to shake as emotions rose to the surface, and I felt myself on the verge of breaking.
“That’s not?—”
“If you regretted it that much, you could've just been honest and said you didn’t want it to happen again instead of being a coward and pretending like I was some random hookup you never planned on seeing again. Like I didn’t matter to you at all. I thought at the very least, we were friends, but friends don’t treat each other like that!” My voice cracked on that last word, and I shoved open my door as tears welled in my eyes. I wouldn’t let him see me cry or witness how much his cold dismissal had bothered me.
Ignoring Donovan calling my name, I marched up to my apartment building, digging my keys out of my purse. My hands shook as I hurried to find the right key. Maybe I was overreacting. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so sensitive about the situation.
My ex’s—not Josh, but the man who messed up my life so badly I had to move back home with my parents—voice played in my head.
You’re too sensitive.
It’s not that big of a deal.
Why do you have to be so dramatic about everything?
My nose stung, and my vision blurred as tears welled in my eyes. Before I could put my key in the lock, I was spun around, and Donovan’s woodsy scent invaded my nose, his warmth enveloping me as he stepped into my space.
“Don’t think for one second that I regret what happened between us. It was the most incredible night of my life. The only part I regret is the way I left things,” he said, his gaze searing into me. He cupped my face, curling his fingers around the back of my neck. “And you're right,” he continued, “I was a coward. I was afraid of what I was feeling,” he said, his thumb grazing over my bottom lip.
My eyes fluttered closed, and my traitorous body leaned into him. I shouldn’t have let him touch me like that, not when I was that angry, but I was quickly forgetting what I’d been so mad about. He went on, his hot breath warming my lips.
“I was afraid that if I stayed, if I saw those mesmerizing eyes open to a new day or watch you try to tame that sleep mussed hair, I wouldn’t be able to walk away. And Ihadto walk away … because I’m leaving.” My brow knitted in confusion, and I blinked up at him. A guilty look flashed in his eyes before he confessed, “I’m moving back to Boston.”
18
DONOVAN
“What?” Emily gasped, her eyes growing wide. I winced and dropped my hand from her face, instantly missing her warmth. I hadn’t planned on blurting that out like I did, but there was no taking it back.
“I’m moving back home sometime in the next few months. There’s a job opening up soon at our Boston branch, and I’m their top candidate.”
“Wow,” she said, blinking away the shock (or to stave off the tears—I wasn’t sure which). “That’s amazing,” she added encouragingly, though her voice was tinged with sadness. It hit me then how much I’d miss her. “I didn’t realize you were moving. Vance hasn’t mentioned it.” Guilt twisted my gut, and I fought back a grimace.
“He doesn’t know yet,” I admitted hesitantly. Her surprised expression had me thinking about all the filthy things I could do with her mouth when it formed a perfect O. I pushed those images out of my head and tried to refocus on our conversation. “I wanted to wait until it was official before telling anyone.”
“When do you leave?” she asked.
“Sometime in the spring, possibly as early as March. Assuming all goes to plan.”
“So you’ll be around for a few more months?” she asked hopefully, and something warm settled in my chest. Would she miss me as much as I’d miss her when I was gone? Selfishly I hoped she would.
I nodded, reaching up to tuck a rogue strand of hair behind her ear, noticing how cold and red the tip of her ear was. “We need to get you inside before you get frostbite,” I said, my voice huskier than intended. Her teeth bit into her plump bottom lip, and my eyes tracked the movement.
“Do you want to come in? I’ve got hot cocoa.”
