Page 108 of Hang the Moon
No matter how badly he wished he could fix this, he couldn’t.
The wordhopeflashed through his mind. Hope that all she needed was a little time and space. Hope that with enough of both, she’d realize what she wanted was here. Hope that she’d choose him, choose what made her happy. Hope. If he thought it enough times, the word ceased to lose meaning.
He bit the inside of his cheek. “I just really want you to be happy.”
Her lashes fluttered and she sniffed, staring at him, studying him, eyes flitting over his face, growing gradually wider. “You really mean that, don’t you?”
“Of course I do,” he said.
All the way down to the marrow of his bones.
With his eyes, he begged her to understand. For those two words to mean enough to her. That maybe she would want to stay.
When she dropped her eyes to the floor and curled her arms tighter around herself, he knew his hopes had been in vain.
Call it selfish, but he couldn’t stomach the thought of letting her leave without getting the chance to hold her in his arms one more time. He stepped forward, hands trembling as he reached for her, praying she’d let him. He held his breath and let one hand fall against the curve of her waist, the other cupping the side of her face. Beneath his fingers, her skin was feverishly hot, her cheeks flushed and damp from crying.
“I hope you figure out what it is you want.” His tongue darted out, wetting his lips. “Until then, I’ll be here. Waiting.”
“Brendon.” His name burst from her lips as a weak sob. Briefly, she turned into his hand, mouth brushing the inside of his wrist, making his pulse go haywire. Her breath ghosted against his skin like a brand and his whole body burned, his throat, the back of his eyelids, his chest worst of all. “What if it takes me longer than a week to make up my mind?”
She craned her head back, staring up at him with wide, round eyes, bluer than he’d ever seen them due to how bloodshot they were.
That fist squeezing his heart gripped it harder, turning it to pulp.
His jaw slid forward and back, his composure close to cracking.Fuck.The inside of his nose burned, sinuses tingling.
“Then it takes you longer than a week.” He bit down hard on the side of his tongue and forced himself to smile through the pain. “The way I see it, you can’t rush something you want to last forever.”
She buried her face in his chest and fisted her fingers in hisshirt, knotting the fabric in her hands. He closed his eyes and let his hand drift, fingers threading through her silky-soft hair, holding her, memorizing the feel of her and hating that when he thought about what it felt like to hold her, the memory would be tainted by the dampness of her tears soaking into his shirt and the way her body trembled against him, racked with near-silent sobs.
If his heart was elastic, it had snapped in two.
The lights mounted above the cabinets blurred as he leaned in, pressing his lips to her forehead. She smelled like summer, like the cool night air after a hot, rainy day, electric and a little wild. Under that, she smelled like his shampoo. He breathed deep, drawing her into his lungs, and let his lips linger against her skin.
Her breath evened out and her fingers released his shirt and—he swallowed hard, stealing a second longer. Just a second. Two seconds. Three.Fuck.No amount of time would be sufficient because he couldn’t get enough of her.
He closed his eyes and forced himself to let her go.
“Text me?” he asked, voice raspy from all the words he’d swallowed. “When you land?”
She gave a jerky nod and dragged the heel of her hand under each eye, mopping up what remained of her tears. “I will,” she murmured.
“Have a safe flight.”
She offered him a wan, watery smile in return that waned quickly.
If he didn’t leave now, didn’t drag himself out of Darcy’s apartment, he feared desperation might drive him to do something drastic. Get down on his knees and beg Annie to stay. Plead a little too hard and push her even further away.
Forcing his feet to move, he turned and walked out of the kitchen, grabbing his keys off the entry table and letting himself out the front door. Leaving what felt like a piece of his heart behind.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Which Star-Crossed Lovers Are You Based on Your Zodiac Sign? (Check Your Venus, Too!)
Aries—Romeo and Juliet
Taurus—Cecilia and Robbie fromAtonement
