Page 117 of When We Were Reckless
“I’m sorry about Alessia’s mom.”
He nodded once, that same shuttered expression on his face, and I wanted to scream. I hated that she still had this kind of power over him. One call from her, and he was right back to where he’d been a few months ago.
“Did you… talk to Alessia?”
I wanted him to say no. I wanted to hear that he hadn’t called her, but somehow, I knew he would have when he heard the news.
He nodded, and I deflated. “Briefly.” He raked his fingers through his hair that was matted down with sweat and looked over my shoulder. “I need a shower.”
It didn’t sound like an invitation. “Yeah, okay. I’ll just….” I started backing away. “I should go. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
I spun around and walked to my car.
God. Why did this have to be so hard? I thought we’d gotten past all this awkwardness. Maybe I’d been fooling myself all along. Maybe we hadn’t gotten as close as I thought. Tears of frustration stung my eyes, and I just needed to get out of here. Hit the rewind button on this entire night and do it over again.
I yanked open my car door, ready to leave. Clearly, he had no interest in talking to me. If his body language was any indication, he didn’t even want me here. So I wasn’t going to hang around where I wasn’t wanted. Or try to coax words out of him when he wasn’t interested in talking.
“Don’t go,” he said brusquely.
It was hardly an invitation to stay. “I think I should. You probably need some time to yourself or—”
“Stay.” He put his hand on my shoulder, his tone softer. “I want you to stay.” He gave my shoulder a little squeeze as if to reassure me that he really did want me to stay.
I turned to look at him then, my eyes searching his face. I’d barged in on him, uninvited, and now I regretted being so impulsive. “Are you sure you want me to stay?”
“Yeah, I do.” He sounded sincere, and I saw something in his eyes that gave me pause. Sadness. But there was something else there too. Something I couldn’t identify.
“I just need a quick shower.”
“Okay,” I said slowly, still not entirely convinced that staying was a good idea. He must have noticed my indecision because he reached around me and closed my car door. Then, before I had a chance to change my mind, he grabbed my hand and led me up the stairs. His footsteps were heavy, and there was a weariness that hadn’t been there yesterday when we’d hung out with his nephews and had dinner with his family.
We had such a fun day. Everything about it had been so natural and easy, just like we were a real couple, and it was perfectly normal to hang out with his family. Lila and Jude had been great, and over dinner, they told stories about Jesse when he was a kid. An adorable, fun-loving kid who loved to play practical jokes.
“How long have you been working out?”
“A while. My legs feel like concrete. Maybe I need a yoga session.” He forced a laugh.
“Yeah.” My own laugh sounded just as feeble.
He held the door open for me, ushered me inside, and left me in the living room.
“I’ll be quick,” he called over his shoulder.
I watched his back as he retreated. When he disappeared down the hallway, I flopped down on the sofa. Dropping my head against the back of it, I stared at the ceiling fan above my head.
Why was I even here?
My gaze landed on the laptop he’d left open on the coffee table.
I wasn’t snooping. Not exactly. But I peered at the screen and saw that he’d been searching for flights to San Diego.
My stomach sank. It looked like he was leaving tomorrow.
It was bad enough that he was supposed to leave for California in less than a week—five days to be exact—but now I’d barely have any time with him. Would he just stay out there rather than coming back? I didn’t think so. He planned to drive to California because he was taking his bikes and moving most of his things out there.
He returned a short while later, his hair damp and messy, in a T-shirt and shorts. “Do you want a drink? Water? Juice? Energy drink?”
He was playing host now, his voice cool and polite, like we were mere acquaintances and didn’t know each other intimately. “No, thanks. I’m good.”
