Page 83 of One Billion Reasons

“Feel what way?” It’s there. Under the surface. I can see it in his face. “Miles? What do you feel for me?” I took the first step. Please, Miles.

His gaze flicks away. I give him a full minute to respond. His jaw works but words don’t come. Finally, I deflate, my shoulders slumping.

“You’re a coward.” I shake my head.

His eyes flash. “I’m the coward? What about you, Lane? What about all the times we were close enough to kiss and you wouldn’t close the distance?”

“What was I supposed to do, throw myself at you?”

“I couldn’t make the first move. Don’t you see? I was supposed to protect you. And what I feel is the opposite of that.” He looks pained, as he tugs at his hair. “The opposite of every friendly feeling I should have. And I hated myself for it. You’re deep inside me. I don’t think I’ll ever get rid of you.”

I rear back. The blood is rushing in my ears. “Would you? If you could?”

“Would I what?”

I inhale for courage. I have to know, even though I think the answer might devastate me. “Would you get rid of what you feel for me?”

Miles jerks like he’s been punched. “Laney—” He takes a step forward, and I step back. He raises his hands placatingly.

“Would you get rid of it? Yes or no?”

His jaw works. I can practically see the wheels turning in his head.

“Sometimes, I think the way I feel about you is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. But on a lot of days—” He shuts his eyes briefly. “It feels like the worst.”

My chest feels like it’s cracking in two. I back away from him, toward my belongings and the stairs. “I need to go. I can’t listen to this.” My pulse is racing. I need to get out. I need to leave. The way I feel about you is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. The words are loud enough to drown out any other thought.

“Please, Lane. You have to understand.” He shoves a hand through his hair. “I lost deals because of how I feel about you. Because I was distracted in a meeting from seeing you with one of your dates. I’ve never wanted to be with anyone else. I’ve never been able to date, not really. I’ve hurt so many women because the only thing they did wrong was that they weren’t you. When you told me you didn’t want to speak to me again, it felt like you cut my heart out of my chest. So yes, I might get rid of that.” His eyes are wide and panicked, like he’s reliving the feelings.

“Do you love me?” I hate that I’m asking. “Please,” I whisper. I can’t believe I’m begging when I swore I wouldn’t.

“I—” He swallows. His eyes dart. Each heartbeat makes my chest crack more. He’s taking too long.

“I can’t love. If I could love anyone, it would be you.”

“Okay, Miles.” I fold in on myself briefly. Don’t break down here. Get to the car. Get to the hotel. “Okay.” I blow out a breath and then pick up my shoes and bag off the sand. I head for the stairs on unsteady legs.

“Lane, wait. Don’t leave.”

I whirl. “What am I supposed to do? Keep waiting for you?” I can feel my eyes heating with tears. Don’t cry. Just wait until you’re alone. “Should I stop dating just in case you decide to love me? Should I come to holidays and pine over you?”

“Just give me time. Maybe I can figure things out. I can’t lose you.”

“Maybe you can figure it out?” I choke the words out. “How do you think this declaration, if you can even call it that, makes me feel? You want me despite your best efforts not to. You wish you didn’t. You want me to wait while you figure out if you love me.” Each sentence comes out bitter and awful, and he flinches. “I would have given you everything, Miles.” I need him to know this. I tip my chin up to meet his gaze. “I would have stood by you. I would have gone to every stupid event and helped make it enjoyable. I would have forced you to surf on the days you didn’t want to. I would have been your biggest supporter.” My chest aches with the weight of possibility. Of what might have been between us. He looks shell-shocked.

“Laney, please. Let’s talk.” The nickname cracks through me.

“You don’t get to call me that.” The words are low but forceful. “I’m sick of chasing men, of being left behind. This week —” My voice breaks and Miles reaches for me. I recoil. If he touches me, I’ll crumple like wet paper.

“Sweetheart —”

I shake my head and his hand drops. I feel like I’m going to be sick.

“This week has shown me that you’re more wonderful than I ever imagined. And walking away from this might break me. But I deserve more than someone who wishes he didn’t have feelings for me. I’m leaving, Miles. Now give me the keys.” I hold out my hand and it trembles slightly.

“Let me drive you back. I’m sorry. Let’s talk about this.”

“No.” I know what I need to say, but it’s going to be terrible. Unforgivable. The very worst thing I can say. But at least I can give us a clean break. “I never want to speak to you again,” I say slowly.

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