Page 116 of When in December

“You’re worth something.”

I shook my head. “We’re not talking about me right now,” I insisted. “We’re talking about you.”

“Me?”

“Yes. We’re going to talk about you and how you’re going to get back into the city and never have to drive these terrible roads back into the mountains every day—or ever again if you’re lucky.”

She chuckled.

“You’re going to go work your job that you love. You’re going to see how much you wowed them by transforming this shack of a place. Shock them all. You’re going to have the promotion and the job you earned.”

Poppy tried to be discreet, but I noticed the tears begin to build in the corners of her eyes, no matter how many times she attempted to swallow down the thick emotion.

I cupped her face in my hand. “Don’t cry.”

“I’m not,” she argued.

She was lying. One tear escaped, dripping out from the corner of her eye and over her lashes before slipping down over her cheek.

Why would I ever make her cry? I could stop it. I could tell her the truth. Because, the truth was, I didn’t want this to end. Screw her contract saying it was over. Screw her ever having to drive the commute to work every day. We’d make this work.

We could. Somehow.

I just didn’t know the answer as to how.

The best I could do, unable to say the words, was press my lips against her temple, taking her wet salt with me. Turning her head, she forced me to look her in the eye when she kissed me. She gripped me tightly before her hands slid, tracing me as if she was afraid to forget the way my nose bridged or how there was a scar along my jaw or what it felt like when my breath hitched in my throat, all because of her.

I did the same, slipping her shirt over her head and making sure that I took note of every dip and freckle she had. I reached out and pulled her against me until her nose pressed against the space at the base of my throat, breathing in and out. I was certain she could hear the way my heart raced in my chest, and my head screamed at me.

What the hell was I doing, thinking I could let this girl go?

It was for the best. I kept hearing myself say that, and yet there was also another voice, screaming in the back of my head.

Stop. Don’t go.

I feel better when you’re here. I don’t want this to end. Do you?

But when morning came around and I felt her slip out from under my arms … I didn’t reach out to pull her back.

twenty-eight

. . .

Poppy

I knew all my affirmations.I knew how to say I was doing my best and pray to whatever great heavens I wanted to believe in that day to make it so. Because I wasn’t sure what else to do, and if it wasn’t sure what to do, I was positive I’d fall apart altogether if I didn’t have at least one truth in my life.

I knew what I had to do to keep moving. I’d learned the steps well to keep my heart beating and my lungs breathing and the rest of me from completely giving up once and for all.

But I’d never had to do it when it felt like someone had carved an entire hole out of my chest. Even though it was me who had done it.

I knew that I had basically done this to myself. I gave in. I thought that it would be okay and that I could handle a short holiday fling even though I should’ve known better. Now, I was forced to deal with the consequences.

I needed to keep going. I needed to keep doing what I knew I was meant to do.

When I walked into the office on Friday and saw the bright smile on Alison’s face, I knew exactly what was going to happen before my ears heard it.

I sat in Michelle’s small yet sophisticated office, which always used to set me at ease when I was on edge.

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