Page 90 of Sack

“No. Thank you.” Maybe a shot of tequila, though.

He came out with a bottle for himself and shut the door. Cracking the lid, he took a long pull.

“Colt, we need to talk.”

He set the bottle on the kitchen table and took a seat in one of the wooden chairs then used his foot to nudge the chair closest to him out. “Sit.”

“I’m good standing.” She was too nervous to sit. “Listen, I…” Gah, how did she start. In the face of actually saying it, every gentle way she’d rehearsed flew from her brain, leaving her completely at a loss. So instead of what she’d planned to say, she blurted without the least bit of finesse, “Our involvement isn’t working for me any longer. I want to end things.”

His relaxed posture slowly vanished as he stiffened in his seat, going completely still. “Is there someone else?” His voice was even and controlled and more intimidating than if he had raised it.

“No. Nothing like that. It’s just…” How did she explain without revealing how she truly felt? “Things are getting messy. I’m growing too attached, and I know that’s not what you signed up for. I thought I was okay with this,” she waved her hands, “with the way things are. And I was at first, but now I want more. The time we’re apart is hurting me.”

He was silent for so long, she blurted, “Say something.”

“I can’t give you more.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Does it matter?”

She couldn’t read his expression. Couldn’t tell if he gave a shit or not.

She sighed, shoulders sagging in defeat. “I guess not.” Until that moment she’d still held out hope he would want more, too, and it would all work out, and she’d get to keep him. But now even that dream was crushed like a bug under a shoe.

A lump formed in her throat, choking off anything else she wanted to say. Which was probably for the best, as anything else would be a plea that she knew would fall on deaf ears. And she had more pride than that.

Straightening her spine to help beat back the tears that threatened to fall, she took a moment to compose herself. She still couldn’t swallow down the lump, so it was a struggle to talk. “Then I guess there’s nothing left to say.”

He got up, came to her, and took her hands and it was almost her undoing. “I’d like to remain friends. I understand if it’s too hard on you to keep up our physical relationship, but I’d hate to lose our nightly chats.”

Men. They just didn’t get it. Sex was the happy side effect, their talks were what made her fall in love with him.

She studied his expression and thought she detected an underlying sadness in his eyes that belied the firm set of his jaw. But maybe that was wishful thinking on her part. In any case, she couldn’t let it weaken her. Shaking her head, she pulled her hands from his grasp. “I can’t. Not now. Maybe after some time.”

Time for her broken heart to heal.

His head tipped, acknowledging what she’d said, but that was it. He didn’t say anything else. And she had nothing left to say either.

She turned and took baby steps through the kitchen, willing him to stop her. Maybe beg her not to leave. Show her he was hurting as much as she was. But she should’ve known better. He was nothing if not steadfast in his conviction.

She couldn’t fault him that. She had no one to blame but herself. It’s not as if he hadn’t warned her what she was getting into.

Reaching the front door, she paused with her hand on the knob, searching to feel his presence behind her. But she felt nothing. He wasn’t going to stop her.

It was truly over.

And the sad part was, he seemed okay with letting her go. She supposed she should be happy about that. No sense in both of them weeping into their Wheaties. But she also couldn’t help but feel extra hurt. He honestly didn’t care.

It was the loud crash she heard as she was closing the front door that belied his feelings and gave her pause. Hewashurting. And that hurt had come out as anger.

She hesitated, debating whether she should go back in, but in the end decided their clean break was best.

Because she hadn’t changed her mind.

If anything, she was now sure she’d made the right decision. Football would always come first.

Colt had just proved that.

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