But I can’t.
I can’t.
If she doesn’t love me back, I will be absolutely crushed, and nothing will matter anymore.
Not rugby. Not my father. Not my dog.
Not me.
She loops shaky arms around my shoulders, panting for breath. “You are seriously good at this,” she says, wheezing between her words.
I should chuckle.
Laugh.
Smirk.
Tell herI know.
Reach deep for that obnoxious cocky charm.
But one word slips out of my mouth instead. “Stay.”
37
Goldie
My limbs are rubber.My vagina is floating on a cloud of ecstasy. I can’t quite catch my breath.
And my entire heart has gone completely still.
Stay?
What does he mean,stay?
“I’m not going anywhere,” I say, then cringe.
You think I can walk like this? would’ve been more on-brand for our relationship. Orand miss round two?
Fletcher tightens his grip around my ribs and buries his face in my breasts. “Don’t leave me.”
No more still heart.
Now it’s cramping.
“Fletcher—”
“Don’t go to London.”
My rubbery arms startto tingle.
And not in awe just woke upkind of way, but in afight or flightkind of way.
I draw in as deep of a breath as I can manage with his head weighing down my chest. “What did you say?”
“Don’t go. Don’t go to London. Stay. Stay right here.” He lifts his head and looks at me, andoh.
Justoh.
