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Something about the casual routine stirred feelings in me. It felt so right to have him here. His presence didn’t even feel new. It felt familiar and normal and it gave me a preemptive sadness that I suspected would grow with every day that brought us closer to his departure date.

In a few weeks, he would be gone. The bathroom would be empty. Tucker would go with him. Jason wouldn’t come over anymore. And the clothes in the drawer he wanted would disappear.

Empty, again.

“Don’t worry.” He winked at me. “I’ll clean the sink. You won’t even know I was here.”

The irony.

I gave him a weak smile. God, I was a nutjob. In the last week I’d shown Jason enough crazy to scare off anyone. He’d seen me blackout drunk and washed barf out of my hair. He’d sat with me, surrounded by piles of my dead fiancé’s clothing, and watched TV. He’d held me while I had a panic attack and even offered to sell his motorcycle so it wouldn’t upset me. I was knee-jerk emotional responses, a minefield of bad days and walls to tear down, and they popped up at random, without warning.

And he didn’t care.

For some reason this gorgeous man who looked like he could be in a damn electric razor commercial was all in—even if we were about to be all out—and I wouldn’t even give him a fucking drawer.

I leaned there, watching him run the razor down his neck, and he glanced at me with those blue eyes and I missed him already.

“You’re a very patient man, aren’t you?”

He slid his eyes down my body and raised an eyebrow. “Well, it’s paid off so far.”

The breath that I blew through my lips was one of resolve. So it wouldn’t last. Okay. But I’d give it everything until it ended.

I held up a key.

Jason froze and his razor clicked off.

I pressed the key to his bare chest, over his heart. “Use whatever drawer you want,” I said. “Park your truck in the garage. No more ringing the doorbell when you come home. Okay?”

The smile on his face made my heart hurt. I don’t know that I’d ever seen him look this happy.

“Okay,” he whispered, putting his palm over the hand on his chest.

We’d have it all…right up until we wouldn’t.