Page 88 of Inarticulate

“Me, too,” he mouthed.

Her heart squeezed at the sincerity focused back on her. It was true. He did feel the same way, just maybe not enough to divulge whatever was hiding in his eyes. She sat there, taking in his motionless affection, his silent appreciation. Waiting. Hoping.

There was another wistful swipe of his finger through her hair. A brush of his thumb along her cheek. He bathed her in adoration and continued to leave her starved for his secrets.

“Let’s go home.” She placed a gentle kiss on his lips and scooted backward to stand on the floor. He wasn’t ready yet, and that was okay. She could deal. At this point, she had no choice because leaving him wasn’t an option. “You can sleep while I drive.”

He did. Keenan dozed the entire way home while she watched the snow slowly dwindle the further she drove toward Seattle. She wanted to mother him, to escort him to bed, wrap him in blankets and figure out how the hell to make chicken noodle soup.

Only smothering him would give him more control. She needed to do the opposite to remind him of her impending farewell.

“We’re here.” Her words were soft, slowly lulling him into the land of the living.

She opened the gates with the spare remote he’d given her, and drove to the front of his house. Her sternum ached as she cut the engine and met him at the back of the car.

He reached for her luggage, and she placed a hand on top of the suitcase to stay him. “Leave mine there.”

He raised a brow, not releasing the handle.

“I’ve been monopolizing your time for weeks. You need a break to recharge.”

He shook his head and began lifting the case.

“Yes.” This time she pressed down harder, and one by one lifted his fingers from the handle. “You’re unwell.”

“No.”

“No?” She closed the trunk, well aware she’d almost taken off his hand in the process. “Then what is it?”

His narrowed gaze returned, the fast snap of something defensive falling between them. Everything had been smooth since Thanksgiving. Too smooth. Too choreographed to perfection. Keenan had helped her to find staff to fill the vacant positions. Penny had become a fading memory within the Rydel building. She’d even told Spencer she’d met someone, and he hadn’t lost his mind, only his control over profanity for a few minutes.

A future with Keenan was within her grasp. They were a breath away from together forever. The only thing stopping her from searching local employment opportunities and instigating a permanent relocation plan was that look. That painful knowledge that he hadn’t given his all to her yet.

“Forget it.” She didn’t want to cause a fight. “I know you have things you don’t want to tell…” It was a push, a provocation.

He pulled out his cell, typed—You mean everything to me, Savannah

Her heart clenched, practically initiating a cardiac event.

“Then trust me.”

He grabbed her wrist, his expression screaming for understanding. “I will.”

“Just not today, right?”

He winced.

“It’s okay.” She soothed the discomfort between them with a soft smile. “I know you’re not ready to share everything with me. I can wait.” At least a few more weeks, anyway. The days left to discuss the future were dwindling. She didn’t want to force his secrets from him with an ultimatum, but she also wouldn’t start uprooting her San Francisco life if she didn’t have all of him.

“Text or video call me before you go to bed.” She kissed his cheek and backtracked. “Make sure you rest.”

He stepped away from the car, his arms crossed over his chest and a petulant frown marring his brow. A little extra distance would be good for them. It would also be her first opportunity to start Christmas shopping.

“Don’t be grumpy.” She opened her driver’s door and gave a sneaky smile even though she didn’t want to leave. “As soon as you’re full of energy, I plan on stealing it away again.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The drivefrom his house was more desolate, the solitary trees waving in the breeze, telling her to go back. She had to do something to drag away his defenses. At least push them to the side a little.

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