I don't know what I expected him to say. Not that.
Eight days ago he carried me up out of a ravine. Three nights ago he kissed me like he'd been saving it. Last night he had his mouth on the back of my neck while he was inside me frombehind and he said my name like a prayer against my shoulder blades.
And this morning I'm a woman who's going to be embarrassed.
I've been dumped before. This is worse. This is someone handing me an exit and telling me to take it because it's for my own good.
I put my palm flat on the table to keep it from shaking.
"You don't get to decide that for me."
"I'm not deciding anything for you. I'm telling you what I see."
"You're telling me what you want to see. Because it's easier than telling me you're scared."
His jaw moves once.
"I'm not scared."
"Hawk."
"I'm a man who lives alone for reasons, Delilah. Those reasons didn't go away because a geologist with a broken ankle made me laugh at my kitchen table."
That lands.
Harder than I want it to.
I straighten. Let go of the table. Put weight on the ankle and let the pain steady me because it's the only clean sensation in my body right now.
"Fine."
"Delilah."
"No. You've said what you needed to say. Now I'm going to go pack my bag."
"Let me help."
"Absolutely not."
I hop to the bedroom. I close the door. I sit on the edge of the bed that smells like both of us and I press my palms into my eyes until I can breathe again.
I don't cry. I don't give him that.
Mostly because I know I'll fall apart the second I do and I have ninety minutes until a deputy pulls up in a county pickup and a lifetime of pride that says I'll be upright in the passenger seat.
I pack. His Henley goes on top of my folded clothes and I do not apologize to the universe about taking it.
I hop back out to the living room.
He's at the woodstove. Still not looking.
Ghost is at my feet within two seconds. Muzzle pressed into my hand. Old dog who decided day one that I was his. He knows. They always know.
"Good boy."
My voice almost holds.
I sit on the couch to wait.
