Page 88 of For Keeps. For Always.

“Fuck,” he spits, leaning over the bar. “That might be the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Unease crawls up my spine, settling in my gut and spreading through my chest uncomfortably.

He meant his words without pretense and without judgment, but I can’t stop myself from feeling attacked. His statement slices open a scarcely healed wound, and my body stutters at the pain.

“I meant no offense,” he backtracks. “You’re not sad. Just that you’re alone in this big, bad fucking world.”

“I don’t need your pity,” I argue quietly. “Ever thought that some people choose to be alone? That it’s preferable to being disappointed by people who claim to love them.”

I hate how candidly he watches me. Digging into my psyche with his knowing eyes.

“Stop it.” I turn away. “Stop attempting to see into me. I don’t know you, so stop trying to read me.”

Hands held up in surrender, he blinks in apology. “Whoa. Chill, Henley. You’re spazzing out on me for no reason right now.”

My fists clench, and I take a purposeful breath. “This is why I prefer to be alone. People put me on edge.”

“Apology accepted,” he offers, and hands to my face, I grunt out a laugh.

“What time do you get off?”

“I finished half an hour ago.”

Hands lifted in victory, he cheers. “Let me buy you a drink. I promise only mind-numbing surface conversation. No deep dives.”

“Why?” I ask him. “I’m clearly a headcase.”

“You’re sweet to look at, and you’re the most interesting person in this bar.”

Anyone ever told you you’re beautiful?

More people should tell you that.

“Sure. Why not?” I shrug, grabbing my bag and settling on the barstool next to him.

The next half an hour is spent exactly how he promised. Easy, surface conversation. Harry doesn’t dive into my past. He talks about the weather. About his work. He asks me about the countries I’ve visited.

“I’ve never been out of the country,” he admits sheepishly.

I balk, my intoxicated self grabbing onto his forearm in dismay. “What? Harry, no! You have to see it. The world. Youhaveto see it.”

“Where are you going next?” he asks, the words slurring together slightly.

His hand rests on my arm, an inconspicuous movement to keep me tethered. I should pull away. But after two years of celibacy, it’s nice to feel even the basic touch of a man.

“I don’t know,” I state excitedly. “That’s the best part. I decide just as my feet begin to get itchy. Maybe I’ve met someone on my travels who talks of their home in a warm regard that I can’t ignore. Maybe I blindly drop my finger on a map and follow that fate. Nothing is planned, Harry. Nothing. I’m free in the world, and no one can catch me. No one can hurt me.”

I turn away from the sadness in his gaze. “Baby, who hurt you so badly to make you think loneliness is a goal?”

“Everyone,” I confess drunkenly. “Everyone,” I whisper. “But mostly me.”

“You?”

“I’m my own executioner. Withdrawal is my safe place.”

Harry shifts forward, lips ajar as his eyes settle on the frown at my lips.

“Please don’t kiss me.”

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