Page 196 of Finding Delaware

Randy frowns at my lack of enthusiasm and takes off his thick-rimmed glasses. “Huckslee, can I be candid with you for a moment?”

Please, don’t.“I’d appreciate that.”

He waves to the realtor, letting her know he’ll be back before stepping onto a back balcony. “Look, son, I can tell that your heart isn’t in this. And while I know it will be a big change for you, and that can be scary, time is running out. You need to decide on a place by the end of the day so we can get this ball rolling.”

“I know, I know,” I sigh, looking over at the rumpled, empty bed in Taylor’s room that we’ve been sharing. “I just...I have a lot on my mind.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“Eh...”

What can I say, exactly? That I’m less than thrilled about an opportunity most people only dream of, with more money in my bank account than I know what to do with and more on the way? That I spent the last four years as a shell of a person, revolving my life around something that didn’t even set my soul on fire because it was the only thing I could think of to fill the void? That I’d rather live in this small duplex with my boyfriend and two other people plus a rabbit, bartending and creating art for his dream?

As much as I want to, I’m contractually obligated to be in Baltimore. There’s no way around it. And though I’d love for Taylor to move with me, his life and his career are here in Utah. So, instead, I just shrug and give some vague excuse about missing my friends and family, even though I haven’t heard a word from my dad since I walked out on the Fourth of July three weeks ago. No response to my texts or calls, and not gonna lie; it hurts. More than anything. Logan, at least, has been a little more chatty, but I haven’t seen him since then, either. He’s agreed to be Taylor and Christian’s business manager, though, so that’s something.

“If you want time to think it over, I can give you until five,” Randy continues sympathetically, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “The realtor can have the papers drawn up by tomorrow morning.”

Well, shit. This is really happening. As much as I’d tried to put it off and forget it all summer...our time is just about up. What good would waiting until later do? There really isn’t anything that could change the situation.

“No, it’s fine. That place is fine. She can get the paperwork started now.”

Randy blinks at that, bushy brows furrowing. “You sure? I have no problem waiting for you to make a decision.”

Except you’ve been waiting a month already.

“Yeah, I like that one. Like you said, lots of natural light. An extra room for a home gym. Checks all my boxes.”

“Alright, if you’re certain. I’ll send everything to your email by the end of the day, and then we can talk tomorrow about getting your things shipped.”

“Sounds good, thanks, Randy. Talk to you later.”

Once the video call goes black, I feel all the strength leave my body, and I let my head fall to the desk, gathering my thoughts. There’s still so much to do and so little time. Never enough time.

I stand with a sigh, heading over to the dresser to grab a pair of briefs, my throat closing at the sight of Taylor’s folded pairs next to mine. He hates folding his laundry, so I’ve been doing it for him. That man would live out of the dryer if he could–and he did until I started staying here. I’m really going to miss putting his clothes away for him, strange as it sounds.

After putting BB in her cage, I head into the bathroom for a quick shower, scrubbing off all the sweat from the gym that I didn’t get a chance to do earlier. Everything aches. I’d gotten lost in my head this morning, thinking about the seven days I have left while on the weight bench, and my shoulders are screaming.

Throwing on some clothes, I roll my stiff joints and wave to Arya on the couch before heading outside, where Christian and Taylor are tuning up their bikes in the driveway. Loud, thrashing music thumps from a portable speaker while my boyfriend kneels, bent over, focusing on putting back the skid plate, dark hair falling into his face. It’s getting longer now, the dyed tips faded and touching the collar of his tank top. He’s so fucking gorgeous, it takes my breath away. How did I get so lucky?

Sensing my presence, his head snaps up, and he smiles over at me leaning against the porch railing, his color-changing eyes lighting up. When he sees the expression on my face, though, the smile drops, making my heart lurch. I only ever want to make him happy, always. And it kills me that I can’t.

“How did it go?” he asks, setting down a screwdriver.

I shrug with a wince. “Alright, I guess. Finally picked a place. Everything should be official by tomorrow.”

His gaze drops as he nods, wiping the oil off his hands with a rag. “That’s good.”

We both fall silent, the space between our words heavy. Christian shoots me an annoyed look over the seat of his own bike, choosing this moment to gather up his tools and take them to the shed. Wandering from the porch, I stuff my hands in my pockets and watch Taylor work, taking in his graceful fingers and toned, inked arms. My back twinges, causing me to grunt, and his eyes meet mine before he gets to his feet.

“Turn around.”

When I do, his hands find my shoulders, kneading and pressing into my sore muscles in a way that has me groaning. He works his way down my spine, thumbs moving in circles down to my obliques, and I wish we could just forgo work tonight to lay in bed, watching movies and holding each other. I don’t feel like we did that enough. I want more.

“I hate this,” he whispers softly, leaning his forehead against my shoulder blades as he continues to massage me.

“Hate what?”

“This. The silence, the broken look in your eyes. Feeling like everything’s about to change. I don’t like it.”

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