“Nothing important.”
She studies my face. “You’re not fooling me. You look like you’re being sent to prison.”
Because leaving you feels like punishment.
“Just tired. You must be, too. You didn’t have to get up.”
“Couldn’t sleep.” She yawns again. “Are you going to bring me home a medal or something?”
I chuckle. “That’s the plan.”
“You actually get a gold medal? I was kidding, but that’s cool.”
“Think so.” I unpair two socks, then tuck them back together. They look exactly the same.
“What time is your flight?”
“Six.” I glance at the suitcase, still mostly empty. Everything I still need to pack is in a messy pile on the bed. Which is also new. My suitcase is always packed the night before, waiting for me by the front door. But last night, when Summer dropped to her knees and took me in her mouth, packing was the last thing on my mind.
She checks her phone, then looks back at me. “It’s four-thirty. Since when are you a last-minute packer?”
I lift a brow, fighting a smile. “I got distracted.”
She slides off the bed and crosses to me, wrapping her arms around my middle. Her cheek presses against my chest, and I feel her grin before she says, “Sorry,” not sounding very sorry at all.
I pull her closer and shut my eyes, letting myself have this.
“I don’t want to leave,” I mutter, hating to admit it.
Her arms tighten around me. “You gonna miss me?”
“Areyougonna missme?” I ask instead of answering, because of course I am. I miss her, and I haven’t even left thehouse yet. I miss her in the hours she’s at the studio. Sometimes, I miss her when she’s just in another room.
It’s everything I was trying to avoid before surrendering to this insatiable need I have for her. And it’s so much more than just physical. She’s a light that’s illuminated my whole fucking life, and I don’t know how I’m supposed to go back to the way things were before her.
But for her, I will. I’d do just about anything for her, I think.
“Of course.” She says it so easily, like admitting it costs her nothing at all.
“I’ll miss you, too.” I kiss the top of her head and force myself to let go. “Help me finish packing?”
She nods and folds a pair of athletic shorts, adding them to the suitcase.
I canalmostpretend we’re packing for a trip together.
But I’ll never get that with Summer, will I?
By the time the season ends and I have time for a vacation, she’ll be gone. Nashville. Recording. Tour. Who even knows where music is going to take her?
And I’ll be here. Packing for the next road trip.
Alone.
I can’t think about that now.
We work wordlessly until the zipper rasps, closing loudly in the quiet, and I prop the suitcase by the door.
She turns to face me. “You’re going to be amazing.”
