Page 38 of Bottle Rocket
“I think I’m lonely,” she said, while he quietly freaked out. “My marriage sucked, but there are things I miss. Cuddling and having a person to eat meals with. Not special meals, like dates or brunch with my siblings. I mean, eating cereal together because you’re lazy and your favorite show’s about to start, you know? I miss having someone on the other end of a phone line. I would leave work before Landon, and he would call me on his way home every day to see if I needed anything from the store. I miss that.”
“Routines.” His voice was strained.
She nodded against his chest. “Yes.”
“I’ve been running away from routine for thirteen years, but I see the appeal.”
She leaned back so she could see his face, and her lips tipped up. “I don’t think you’re running from routine.”
“You don’t?”
“No. You’re not runningawayfromanything. You’re runningtowardit. Toward experiences. Toward love. Toward adventure. Toward inspiration. I’ve always believed that.”
He’d tried, through the years, to fully explain his impulse to move, to not put down roots, to travel, and he’d usually failed. She’d summed it up in ten seconds flat.
“I think …” He chewed on his lip. This was hard. “I think I’ve hurt people in the past. Because I run. My parents. You. Friends who wanted to be more. Mal. I am lonely, but I’m alsome. I don’t want to hurt anyone else by being me.”
She cupped his cheek. “You won’t hurt me by leaving this time. I promise.”
It would hurt him, though. That was what he didn’t say. He was selfish. His lifestyle sometimes hurt the people he loved, but it also hurt him. It robbed him of connections he craved. It left him lonely, but he had never been able to find a balance between the freedom of the open road and love that lasted. The one time he’d tried, it had ended poorly.
Rosie was seemingly able to compartmentalize their reconnection. To put it in a box labeled “fuck buddy” or “deadline incoming.” He admired her for that. He’d been great at that type of compartmentalization for years. He had friends all over the country that he happily screwed around with then left with a smile. It was mutually beneficial. He knew they were on the same page.
The longer this went on with Rosie, the more he was sure they were not on the same page. She was keeping up her end of the bargain. It was his heart that was changing the rules.
Ideally, he’d tell her that. Say, “Hey, I think I could still love you, and this is getting scary for me.” But he wasn’t gonna do that. He was going to drown himself in her, give her all the experiences she craved, help her fulfill her sex checklist and maybe find a hobby. Then he was going to run away and lick his wounds.
Chapter Nine
Rosie had saidthe wrong thing. She could tell. Leo’s heart was racing under her palm, and he looked overwhelmed.
She had no idea how to turn this conversation around. Fear and disappointment and guilt pushed at her. A compulsive response she had no control over. It had been hammered into her through the years of her marriage, and shehated, hated, hatedit.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
He frowned, and that made it ten times worse. “What for?”
She stuttered before saying, “I don’t know. I feel like I messed up.”
His expression went thunderous. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” He rolled on top of her, and her breath left her lungs in a rush. “You don’t have to apologize for jack shit, Rosie Holiday.”
His body was hard against her, pressing her into his soft bed.
“You’re right.” She shook her head, trying to clear it. “I’m sorry.”
He laughed and bit her neck. “Stop apologizing.”
Her skin was tender under his teeth. He’d sucked on that spot earlier when they’d fucked. It felt good, that sting.
“I want you,” she whispered.
“I’m yours for the taking.”
She pushed him off so she could grab her bag and dump her sex toys everywhere.
“Your turn,” she said.
Leo leaned over and retrieved a box from beneath the bed. He dumped his toys alongside hers. He still had that edge of vulnerability in his eyes. She wasn’t sure if she wanted it gone or if she wanted to exploit it. To open him up even more. To make him give all that emotion to her.
