Page 75 of So Close

He reached out and set something on the shiny surface of the front desk, pushed it across to her. It was the key to his room.

For a moment, she could only stare at it. Then her mind clicked back into motion. “You. Don’t. Think.” She stopped. “Youdon’t think we should see each other again. And just like that—” She snapped her fingers. “That’s it. None of that happened.”

“Auburn, this isn’t aboutyou.”

“No?” she asked, arching an eyebrow. “Please, do explain. Explain how this isn’t about me. Because I’m not seeing it. I’m feeling like this is about me in every possible way. BecauseIam the one who just lost the place I live and work and love.Iam the one who spent this last week trying my damnedest to make everything work out for Beachcrest, and for me, andfuck it,foryou, Trey!Iam the one who was there when you talked about your childhood and your failed marriage and your overleveraged business, when you ate biscuits and bacon and marshmallows, when we danced and raced and when you—” Words failed her; the images of him moving over her and inside her, watching her shatter, spilling as she watched him, were too much for words. “So, how exactly is this not about me?”

“It’s about me.” He sounded agonized. “And what I can’t give you. I can’t take care of you. I didn’t take care of you. I don’t deserve you.”

“Oh, myGod,is that really how you see this? That this is all about you and what you did? Do you haveany ideawhat an asshole that makes you?”

It was funny that of all the things he’d done, this was the one that finally, finally made her angry. Because he’d done ittoher, after everything that had happened between them, knowing how she felt about having her autonomy taken away from her. “So you just decide to write me out. Make this your story, tell it like you see it, decide what you need to do about it, and not even take me into account.”

“Iamtaking you into account. You deserve someone who can take care of you.”

“Ideservesomeone who treats me like a human being with free will. Ideservesomeone who doesn’t make decisions that definitely areaboutme …forme!”

She was shouting. It took a lot to make her shout. She’d never shouted at Patrick. She’d never really even gotten mad at him. She’d let Chiara do it for her.

Maybe that had been a mistake. Because it felt pretty good to let someone have it.

“Ihelped make this decision. We were working together to solve a problem, and we made a deal! You don’t get to storm out of the room if you don’t like the terms you get. You don’t get to ruin all the good that’s come out of this week because you have to be the big man on campus.”

“What good has come out of this week?” he demanded. “At the end of the week, you have nothing. No place to live. No place to work. No future.”

“Whatgoodhas come out of this week?” she echoed. “Wherewereyou? Did you not have the same week I had? Because all Isawwas good. I saw you laugh and relax and make friends, and that sure as hell wasn’t happening last week. I saw you—I saw lots and lots of people—enjoying the beach and campfires and marshmallows and parades and barbecues and family. I saw people spending time together who hadn’t been together for too long. My first July 4th with my family in years. Also, I had some really fucking great sex. But apparently, you were just waiting to see how it would allend, and if it didn’t end the way you wanted it to, you would just write the whole fucking thing off, like the control freak you are. Well fuck you, Xavier.Fuck you. And just in case it matters, I fuckingloveyou.”

If she’d expected that to work like some extreme magic spell, she was sorely disappointed. His expression barely changed.

“That doesn’t mean anything if you can’t take care of the person you love.”

“I. Don’t. Need. You. To. Take. Care. Of. Me. And neither does Brynn and neither does Carl. Maybe you need to take care of us or else you feel like an epic failure—but that’syourproblem, now, isn’t it?”

Her chest was heaving like she’d run a mile. Or like it had every time he’d gotten close enough to touch her. She tried to catch her breath, but it was a lost cause; she was too angry, she was too hurt—how had she been such an idiot?

Again.

“Go,” she said. “Just, go. Go take care of all the people who work for you whose asses you just saved and enjoy feeling like a big damn hero. You want to go back to San Francisco? Fine.” She grabbed the key from the counter, yanked open the drawer, dropped the key in, and slammed it shut.

“You’re checked out.”

38

“Ibrought molten chocolate cake from the Tierney Bay Diner.”

Chiara set the boxes down on the night table next to Auburn’s bed.

“You’re a saint,” Auburn said.

“Hardly. Just a sister.”

“A good sister.”

Chiara opened the two boxes. Each held a single dark round of tender lava cake and a scoop of vanilla ice cream. She stuck a spoon into each and pushed one toward Auburn.

Auburn took a bite, gave a small sigh of satisfaction and despair, and slumped back against the headboard.

“You said chocolate. And ice cream. This was the purest hit I could score.”

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