She turns and faces me, eyes glum, cupping my cheek with one of her hands. “Carter…”
I put a finger against her lips knowing what she’s about to say. “No. Don’t go downstairs. Not yet.”
“I don’t want to, but I should get up early. Maybe I can beat the snow.”
My goddamn heart cracks knowing how desperately she still wants to leave. “You won’t. The storm is moving south. It’ll be chasing you the whole way. What if you have to stop and get caught up in it?”
“I know you’re just trying to keep me safe, but—”
“Damn right I am. What if you slide off the road again, but this time there’s nobody around to help?”
She closes her eyes and sighs. “Okay. I’ll make you a deal. If there’s more than four inches of snow, I’ll stay.”
I run a hand along her bare shoulder. “Two.”
“You’re negotiating?”
“If that’s what it takes.”
She huffs. “Fine. Three. Three inches.”
“By what time?”
She thinks on it. “Eight am.”
I pick up my phone and set my alarm for seven thirty. “Deal.”
Putting my phone away, I press her into the bed. “Humans can function just fine on six hours sleep. That gives me one more hour with you. Whatever shall we do?”
She licks her lips and smiles. But then her smile wanes. “Only one more hour, huh?” Her eyes become glassy. “If this is our last night together, I just want you to know how amazing these few weeks have been.”
She looks sad. Almost as sad as I feel when I think about her leaving. I don’t want to ruin the moment we were having, and I dig far in the reaches of my mind.Think, Carter.
I perch my head on her chest and look up at her. “Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it happened.”
Her eyes flutter. She sighs. Then she pulls me to her and kisses away my sadness. Or tries to. While she may love my sillyDr. Seuss quotes, that one most accurately describes my fear of the future.
And then… I spend the entirety of the next hour doing everything in my power to make it impossible for her to want to leave.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Kenna
I’m awake before my alarm goes off. I don’t look outside. I’m afraid to. What if there isn’t more than three inches on the ground?
What if thereis?
I spin back and forth between wanting to stay—something my heart desperately desires—and doing what my brain keeps telling me is the only logical option: leaving.
Other than making the deal about the snow, Carter didn’t outright ask me to stay. Not while we were in bed anyway. He hasn’t mentioned it since we texted each other. But I know he wanted to. I could see it in his eyes. Feel it in his touch. The first time we made love last night was fun, exciting, and playful. The second time was the complete opposite. Slow. Deliberate. Emotional. It felt a little too much like goodbye. Like we both knew it might be the last time.
And even though it felt like a farewell, I never wrote him that letter. I’m not sure if it’s because I anticipated having to stay, or because I simply couldn’t write down my feelings. There aresomany feelings.
It hasn’t even been two weeks since we met, but it’s hard to see my future without Carter in it. When I dream, he’s there. When I envision Amelia’s first dance recital, her high school graduation, her wedding—I see him standing next to me beaming with pride. When I fantasize about giving Amelia a little brother or sister, that child has hazel eyes, an inviting smile, and maybe a little grease on their hands.
How is that even possible?
Footsteps upstairs pull me from bed and have me reaching for my robe. Bypassing the bathroom, even though I really have to pee, I head right for the French doors. On my approach, I see snow dancing beyond the cold, frosty panes of glass. I hold my breath as I peer through. There’s snow on the ground, I just can’t tell how much. Is it two inches? Four? It’s been blown around and drifted, so it’s pretty hard to tell.
