Page 122 of Ship Wrecked

She swallowed, her ire swamped by grief. “I miss them.”

And since she was leaving for Sweden at the end of the week, she’d continue to miss them for a long time to come. Maybe forever.

“I know.” Lips pressed tight, he just... looked at her. “I know you do.”

Her rage rekindled in a heartbeat.

He had norightto speak so gently to her, as if he understood how she felt, when he didn’t understand at all. If he did, if he cared as much as that loving tone implied, she wouldn’t be packing her fucking belongings, would she?

Fisting her own hands, she bit her lip.

She wanted to scream at him, to slap at his chest and shove him farther away from her, almost as much as she wanted to sob, and she would do none of it.None. Because whatever this was, whatever he wanted from her, the torture would be over soon, and she refused to humiliate herself yet again.

His eyes met hers directly. Unflinchingly. “You love them, and you want the people you love nearby, so of course you miss them.”

Her breath hitched, and she wanted to turn away. But she didn’t.

Maybe they couldn’t be together, but at least . . . at least he finally seemed to comprehend what she’d tried to tell him so many times, in so many ways. At least part of it.

And that was something, wasn’t it? To part with his understanding rather than his anger?

“Sweetheart.” Raising his hand, he softly thumbed away a tear on her cheek. “It hurts more than you show, doesn’t it? To have everyone from the island suddenly gone their separate ways. To have your family so far from here.”

If she spoke, her voice would waver. Tremble like her fists. So she didn’t speak.

But it was true. All of it.

And she’d never told him. Because there was nothing he could do about it, and because even with him, even during the best of their times together, she’d hated revealing that parts of her skin were so thin, they could bleed at the tiniest injury. That parts of her heart were so fragile, they could snap under a featherweight of pressure, in the space of a single beat.

So how did he know? What exactly had happened in the last week?

“Ramón and Nava will be back in LA soon, probably later today. They’ll want to see you, and I know you need to see them.” Then he gave his head a violent little shake. “Anyway, the event was...”

After brushing away a tear from her chin, he took another step closer, until he filled her vision so entirely, the rest of Los Angeles ceased to exist.

“It explained a lot. To me. About me. About you too, I guess.” His dark eyes searched hers. “And right after it ended, I went to my hotel, packed, and drove directly to O’Hare in the middle of the night so I could catch the first flight to LAX in the morning.I hoped you’d still be packing when I made it back, and I was worried if I told you I was coming, you’d leave, so . . . here I am.”

Dazedly, she blinked up at him, too shaky and afraid to ask... why? Whywashe here?

“Coach sucks,” he declared. “It was the only option. So I could either have flight attendants ram service carts into my legs or use my knees to palpate the kidneys of the guy sitting in front of me. I decided he looked like someone who could use a deep-tissue massage, although I’m not certain he’d agree.”

Forced into speech, she sniffed. Hard. “Deep-organ, more specifically. If it involved kidneys.”

“Norse nitpicker.” His lips curved in the sweetest, smallest smile she’d ever seen him give anyone. Then he sucked in an enormous breath and cradled her face in both hands. “Okay. Enough avoidance. Here’s what you need to know, so I can find out whatIneed to know.”

Her heart was thudding so hard, she—gods above, she might not survive this.

If she had to walk away from him still,again, it would break her. Fuckingdemolishher. Crush her into so many damn pieces, she might not ever manage to put herself back together.

“I texted my agent from the plane and turned down theFTIrole.” He lifted a shoulder, the very picture of nonchalance, and all she could do was gape at him. “Turns out, I have no interest in enhancing photos of license plates to a scientifically impossible extent while possessing precisely one overriding character trait.”

At any other time, she’d laugh at that very apt description. But right now, she had no mental bandwidth for humor, because what he’d just said sounded like Peterbending. Rethinking, instead of digging in further.

And she wished it were enough. But it wasn’t.

Because what happened when the next big role appeared on the horizon, one he actually found interesting and worthwhile? Would turning down this first offer only delay the inevitable?

She didn’t want six more months with Peter, or two years, or even a dozen, before she had to walk away and savage her own heart yet again.

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