“The guy who owns my house is turning it into a vacation rental. We all need to be out by September.” His voice was dull and emotionless.
Merritt was speechless for a moment, absorbing the impact of that statement as if it were a physical blow. “You’re not going to find somewhere else here?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know if it makes sense. He gave me a really good deal on rent; I could never afford another place that nice. And…it’s home, you know? Not a lot of renters stick around here as long as I did. So, I think this might be my sign to move on. Put down some real roots somewhere.”
Merritt rolled her lips, which suddenly felt dry. “You mean Tucson? With your mom and stepdad?”
He glanced at her, like he was surprised she remembered. “Yeah.”
“Oh,” said Merritt hollowly. “That’s great. I mean, I’m sorry. I mean…” She paused. “I don’t know what I mean.”
He met her eyes again, and she didn’t bother trying to hide how knocked sideways she was by this news, completely unable to process it.
As much as she’d dreaded seeing him around over the pastfew weeks, the thought of him not being around to avoid at all made her chest ache.
His brows knit together, a muscle ticking in his jaw.
“Do you want to sit down?” she asked, inclining her head toward the sofa.
“I should go.” But instead of heading for the door, he sat down in the armchair, while Merritt perched on the couch. “Want a beer?” he asked, after another loaded silence. “I brought some over.”
Merritt shook her head emphatically. “No, thank you. But go ahead.”
She hadn’t had a sip of alcohol since that night at Last Chair and had finally accepted that she never could again. Even if moderation worked for her nine times out of ten these days, the carnage of that one outlier wasn’t worth it.
Niko shrugged. “Probably smart. They’re pretty warm.” Still, he cracked open one of the cans, taking a sip. All Merritt had was a mug of ice-cold peppermint tea, but she picked it up anyway, just to have something to do with her hands. From Niko’s grimace after drinking, she suspected he’d done it for similar reasons.
“I want to apologize again,” she said, unable to look at him, her words stilted. “About that night. I acted like a complete asshole. I hope…I hope I didn’t ruin your date.”
She heard him laugh a little in the back of his throat. “It was a fucking disaster. Even before I kissed you.”
“You mean, beforeIkissedyou,” Merritt corrected, looking up at him in surprise, her cheeks heating.
He met her eyes.
“You can’t take all the blame for that one. I was kissing you right back, from where I was standing.”
She felt her blush deepen, and she was so rattled that shetook a sip of her disgusting tea. Niko cleared his throat. “Um. Anyway. That was our last date.”
“I’m sorry,” Merritt said automatically, then corrected herself. “Actually, I’m not. But I’m sorry that I’m not.”
They sat in silence for another beat, but a tense one, the room hushed and dark and intimate, save for the crackle and glow of the fire.
“Can I say something I probably shouldn’t?” Merritt said quietly, her eyes dropping back to the table.
Niko made a soft and strangely sexy noise in the back of his throat that sounded like assent.
“I miss you. So fucking much.” Her gaze caught his. “The time we spent together…that was the most fun I’ve had since I moved here. Probably even before that. I don’t think I fully appreciated it until we couldn’t—until you weren’t…” She trailed off, looking down into her mug again.
She braced herself for him to point out that it was her own fault, that she’d been the one to break it off. But instead, he just said, “I miss you, too,” in a voice so low and ragged that her heart broke a little. “CanIsay something I probably shouldn’t?”
“Please.”
He took another drink from his beer first, like he was building up the courage. “I’ve been listening to your music.”
Merritt felt a nervous, unexpected thrill race through her. “You have?”
“Yeah. You’re really good.”
