“Pull away. I can feel it.” He pressed his forehead to mine. “Talk to me.”
“I don’t know what this is.” The words tumbled out before I could stop them. “We’ve known each other for three days. You’releaving. I’m staying. We live completely different lives. What are we doing?”
“I don’t know,” he answered, honest and raw. “But I know I think about you constantly. I know you make me laugh. I know sex has never felt like this—like connection, like something more than just getting off.”
“Cole.”
“I know three days isn’t enough.” His voice cracked. “I know when I leave for Charlotte, I’m going to miss you so much it hurts, and I know it scares the shit out of you.”
“It does.”
“Me, too.” He kissed me, soft and desperate. “But I’d rather have three days with you than nothing at all.”
Tears pricked my eyes. “I’m going to get attached.”
“I’m already attached.”
“You’re leaving.”
“Charlotte’s two hours away. I’ll come back.”
“You have shows. A tour. A life that doesn’t include staying in one place.”
“We'll figure it out.” His hands framed my face. “People do long distance all the time.”
“I’m terrible at long distance.” I stopped, swallowed hard. “I need touch. Presence. Someone who’s actually here.”
“Then I’ll be here. Between shows. Every chance I get.”
“That’s not sustainable.”
“Maybe not.” He kissed my forehead. “But I want to try. Don’t you?”
God help me, I did. “Yes.”
His smile could’ve lit up the whole city. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He kissed me, and the desperation melted into something softer. Sweeter. He made love to me slow and careful, like we had forever.
Afterward, we lay tangled together, his hand tracing lazy patterns on my back. “Tell me something real.”
“I’m scared this is going to hurt.”
“Me hurting you, or you getting hurt when I leave?”
“Both.”
He was quiet for a long moment. “I can’t promise it won’t hurt. But I can promise I’ll never intentionally hurt you. And I can promise that every moment we have is worth whatever pain comes later.”
“How are you so sure?”
“I’m not. But I’m willing to risk it.” He tilted my chin up, making me look at him. “Are you?”
I thought about my marriage. The betrayal. The years I’d spent building walls to keep people out, to keep myself safe.
I thought about Garbage in that kennel, barely alive, and how he’d chosen to keep fighting.
