Page 86 of This

“I don’t want to go back inside,” I admit. “I know it makes me a terrible person, but…” I shake my head, unable to give a reason other than I can’t function with sad eyes on me. Which isn’t fair. They need to target someone with their sympathies.

Dane’s eyes flash behind me but quickly return. “Okay. Wait here.”

He steps past me, and I turn, wanting to grab him, pull him back to me.

“Where are you going?”

“To say goodbye to Maggie,” he says over his shoulder. “Then I’m taking you home.”

Instead of the cottage, Danedrives me to the motel I’ve been staying at the past few days. I can’t sleep in Maggie’s house without Maggie there. His eyes scale the walls when he flips the light on. Seventies wallpaper and several burned-out bulbs, but the couple who owns the place is sweet and they do what they can for updates.

He flicks a light fixture only holding on by a screw. “Swanky.”

I shrug. “Not everywhere can afford an ice machine on each floor.”

“Or more than one floor,” he counters.

A smile tugs at my lips as I find clean sweats and a tank top in my bag. He doesn’t have any clothes with him, no bag he wanted to get before we left Liam and Keaton at the church. All indicators he doesn’t plan on staying, so it surprises me when I come out of the bathroom, and he’s reclining on the bed, shoes off. I crawl in beside him, both of us on top of the bedspread.

Sweet owners or not, the bedding is not to be trusted.

He covers us with the blanket I brought from my room and rolls onto his side to face me. We watch each other like we used to, caught up in a moment where only we exist. I’ve missed being still with him, having his eyes on me. He reaches over to trace my face with his fingertips. My skin tingles where his skims across.

“Virginia Beach,” he says without a question mark.

“You’re selling your house.”

He nods, his gaze following his fingers as they trail over my jaw. “You found your mom.”

At the mention of her, I automatically reach for my necklace before remembering I hid it in the bathroom. I haven’t taken it off since I found it, but if he sees it, he might ask for it back. Add jewelry thief to the résumé.

His touch drifts down my arm to my bracelet, rubbing over the medallion. “Was she what you were looking for?”

“No, she wasn’t even worth finding.”

I shift, and he looks up, bringing his hand back to my face to stop me from moving away from him. The more settles between us, a soothing blanket over top the blanket we’re under.

“Stay,” he says after a minute.

My belly flips, and I think he’s asking me not to leave, but then he sits up to drag his shirt over his head. His jeans land on the floor a second later, and he lies back down beside me. His hand glides up my arm and neck as it returns to my cheek. I memorize the feel of his skin covering mine, not asking about the house again or if he’s leaving Phoenix or if he misses me even though he shouldn’t. Whatever this is, where we can be here with each other without all the noise, feels too delicate to disrupt.

I start to drift off, exhausted from staying afloat the past three days.

“Don’t close your eyes,” he whispers.

“Why?” My eyelids flutter open, and one side of his mouth perks up.

“Because I’m not done staring into them yet.”

I laugh, sad and pathetic, and he smiles.

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

Neither of us says anything else. We fall asleep that way, the warmth of his hand on my cheek, and in the morning, we go to Maggie’s funeral together. Then he goes home, where he belongs, and I prepare to do what I always do.

Leave.

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