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For now.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

BRASHE

Ileft her apartment at way-too-early-in-the-morning.

If I’d stayed until dawn, I’d have to watch her wake up, and I wasn’t sure I could handle that yet without begging for more. The way she’d looked at me, so soft and open and trusting, had broken something inside me I didn’t know how to fix.

So I’d untangled myself carefully, holding my breath when she stirred, and slipped out of her bed like a coward.

The note took me four tries. I finally settled on something that felt honest without ripping my lungs open:

Had to go home and ice my hip. (You’d kill me if I didn’t.)

Last night meant everything.

See you at the arena.

—B

I left it on the pillow, next to the indent where my head had been.

Now I sat on my own couch at 4:30 AM, staring at the ceiling, icing my hip.

Sleep wasn’t happening.

The couch cushions still held the indent from where I’d sat earlier, before I’d driven to her place. Before I’d knocked on her door like a desperate fool who couldn’t wait until morning to see her.

My hip throbbed, reminding me I’d been sitting in the same position too long. I shifted, trying to find a comfortable angle, but comfort wasn’t happening. Not with my brain replaying the moment in the pool when she’d wrapped her legs around my waist and rocked against me through our swimsuits. She’d come so beautifully. I wanted to see her come again.

I’d been hard enough to pound nails.

I opened my eyes, staring at the ceiling fan. The darkness pressed in from all sides, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d made a mistake leaving. Not because I wanted more, though I did, desperately, but because I’d run.

That’s what I’d done. Run.

She’d asked me to stay. And I’d laid there for hours with her pressed against my chest, her breath evening out into sleep, and I’d panicked.

What if I woke up and she looked at me differently? Come morning, she might realize she’d made a mistake letting me stay.

She might have regrets.

So I’d untangled myself like a coward. Written a note that took four tries because I couldn’t figure out how to say last night meant everything to me without sounding like I was already too far gone.

Which I was.

I’d been gone since the picnic. Since she’d walked up to me in that yellow dress and asked about god complexes with a smile that made my heart spasm. I’d spent ten months pretending I wasn’t thinking about her every time Crim mentioned her name, asking casual questions that weren’t casual at all.

And then days of her hands on my body.

Last night, she’d trusted me enough to be vulnerable, to let me hold her while she slept.

And I’d left before she woke up.

My phone sat on the coffee table, dark and silent. I couldn’t stand it.

Standing, I tested my hip. Still achy, but manageable. The stretches could wait until morning. Right now, I needed to at least try to sleep, because in four hours I’d see her at the arena, and I’d have to act professional when all I wanted to do was pull her into a supply closet and pick up where we’d left off.