Page 72 of Licks

Or the next day. The next week. The next month. So many days I could have given her with her father. Days she’d never get back.

I kept out of view, sick to my stomach.

She refused to talk about our future, I reminded myself. I may have been all in, but Gwen was still living our seconds. Even without this massive obstacle, she might not have given us a chance. She might be relieved when faced with my deception. It would make ending things with me easier, freeing her from the burden of pushing me away.

Yes. That was how this would go. My confession would give Gwen the out she wanted. She could keep her friends and life and not have to risk it all on me. This would be better for her.

She paced, clenching and unclenching her hands, her face equal parts excited, scared, and determined. Exactly how she’d looked at her first regional track meet. I’d been there for her that day. Not her mother. No close friends or siblings attended, only me to cheer her on. I’d screamed myself hoarse as she’d torn past the finish line.

Today, I wasn’t the one in her corner. Today, I’d be the one letting her down.

When she took her lip chewing up a notch, looking ready to break skin, I scrubbed a hand down my face and trudged forward.

The second she spotted me, she waved and smiled, beaming with open affection. It was too much. Having those gorgeous eyes brimming with joy, having seen them ignite at my touch—how was I supposed to let that go?

She’ll be relieved in the long run. Her life will be better.

I clipped a man’s elbow as I approached her and tried to offer an apology, but my saliva was all gummed up. A break in pedestrians finally gave us a clear path to each other, and I forced myself forward. Gwen still seemed nervous and excited, shifting on her feet, hands now tight little fists. I should ask her how she was doing, hug her and offer support. That would only make this harder.

“We need to talk,” I said quickly. “I should have—”

“I bought a plane ticket,” she blurted before I could finish. There was a small distance between us. Mere inches. She seemed hesitant to close the space.

I froze. “You did what?”

It sounded like she’d said she’d bought a ticket, which could mean a thousand things, one of which had my heart pounding a near-deafening beat.

“I booked a flight.”

“Where?”

“To Germany.”

“Germany?” Yep, deafening.

“Ger-ma-ny,” she said, emphasizing each syllable. “You should Q-tip after you shower. Helps with hearing.” She mimed cleaning her ear.

I’d laugh if I weren’t stunned. Sick. Devastated. What happened to the woman only willing to live our seconds? “You booked a flight to Germany?”

The notion wasn’t sinking in. She’d imposed our no-future-talk rule. Changing the game now wasn’t okay, not with what I had to say, but she was turning it all upside down.

“Well, let me see.” She tapped her chin and squinted at the sky, then she grinned at me, sweet yet tentative. “I believe that’s what I did.”

“You’re coming to Germany.” A statement this time. I couldn’t sound like a bigger idiot.

“Wow, so…now I’m worried you have a head injury or something. Did you fall on your run? And if this is you freaking out because I took this step and you’re having second thoughts, then I’ll need you to back away before I embarrass myself by puking on your shoes.” She pressed a hand to her belly. “August? You’re kind of scaring me.”

“No, babe.” My limbs finally woke up, and I gripped her shoulders. I shouldn’t kiss her or pull her against me. I should keep my distance and say what needed saying. My body wouldn’t obey. I pressed a kiss to her forehead, another to her perfect lips, then I crushed her against my chest. Tighter than tight. She’d for sure feel the thrashing of my heart. “I’m not having second thoughts. I want you and this more than I want to breathe. There’s just…”

I inhaled her feminine scent. She smelled clean and sweet with a hint vanilla, freshly showered, which had me picturing us under a hot spray as I licked a path along her toned flesh. Dammit. This was not the time to be thickening behind my zipper. She’d feel that, too. And it was wrong.

She slipped her hands down my back, cresting them alongside my spine, over the waistband of my jeans. “I want all of you more than I want to breathe, too,” she whispered.

I held her harder against me. It could be my last time. “What changed?”

“I can’t lose you, August. Not again. I can only come for three weeks, and there’s a chance we won’t work. Long distance will be beyond painful, but I’ll survive regardless. I have Rachel and Ainsley, their guys and Emmett and Cameron, and other outlets in my life. No matter what happens, I’ll pick myself up. Not giving us a shot would be worse than trying and failing. You’re worth the risk.”

She was worth everything. She deserved everything, including the truth.