Tomorrow, he’d get up and look for an apartment. Because he’d finally figured out how he could repay Colby for all that he’d done for him.
Keats would give him the girl he loved.
And get the fuck out of the way.
—
Georgia rolled over in b
ed, expecting to run into another warm body, but only cool sheets pressed against her back. She opened her eyes in the gray morning light. Colby was next to her, sleeping soundly. Keats was gone. She wasn’t surprised, but melancholy rolled through her like winter fog.
Yesterday she’d been honest with Keats, but it had come out all wrong. She’d told him their relationship was temporary; he’d heard disposable. She’d told him he was young; he’d heard immature. The words had cut him. She’d seen it on his face, how he’d instantly shut down. That sweet, open soul had scrambled back under its hardened shell, and the bitter mask he’d honed on the streets had slid back into place. Never before had she felt like such a selfish bitch. In that moment, she’d realized that no matter how genuine her feelings were for both of them, she’d used them.
She’d always known she would have to leave, but she hadn’t kept the boundaries clear. Yes, she’d told them the situation was short-term from the start, but her actions had sent a completely different message. She’d led them on, letting hope linger and bloom—maybe because she’d latched onto a little bit of it herself. Then she’d gotten those letters, and reality had slammed back into her.
She’d been stupid and reckless with two men who had been nothing but thoughtful and loving with her. And now her continued presence was only driving the knife deeper for them all. She’d felt it last night throughout dinner and their evening together. She’d wanted to talk to Keats one-on-one since they’d never finished their conversation from the kitchen. But he’d actively avoided being alone with her all night.
So when they’d finally reached the bedroom late last night and Colby had stepped out to get something from the bathroom, she’d broached the topic. But Keats had shaken his head. “It’s okay, George. We don’t need to talk about it. I’m fine.”
“You’re not. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it the way—”
Keats had pressed his fingers over her mouth, a tender, sad smile on his lips. “Don’t. Please. I get it. Let’s not ruin tonight over it. I’m going to be fine. I just want to be with you tonight and leave the rest of the stuff outside the door.”
She’d nodded and he’d cupped her face and kissed her. Kissed her like he wanted her. Kissed her like he loved her. Kissed her like it was good-bye.
And when all three of them had made love, she’d wondered if Colby had somehow sensed the cracks appearing in the foundation as well, because he’d left the kink to the side. They’d taken their time and had indulged in the freedom of touching and making each other feel good. It had been sweet and sexy. It had felt amazing. It had broken her heart.
Because in those moments, looking at the faces of the two men as she took them inside her body, she’d known that she couldn’t keep doing this—to them or to herself. They’d all broken the rules. They’d gotten attached.
And there was only one way to fix it.
It was time.
Georgia reached out and ran the backs of her fingers along Colby’s bearded jaw. He inhaled deeply and his eyelids fluttered open, dark lashes blinking over sleepy hazel eyes. He turned his face toward her and smiled a lazy smile. “Mmm, good morning, gorgeous.”
She drew her hand lower and let it linger on his chest, feeling his heart beating steadily beneath her fingertips. God, how she’d enjoyed waking up next to him these last few weeks. “Morning.”
He tucked an arm behind his head, his gaze tracing over her and becoming more focused. “Everything okay?”
She rubbed her lips together, hoping her voice wouldn’t shake. “I just wanted to let you know I was heading out.”
He turned his head to glance at the clock. “This early?”
“Yeah. I’m behind on everything. I need to . . . do stuff.” It sounded lame to her own ears, so she could only imagine how it sounded to his.
His brows knitted, and he reached out to take her hand. “You sure that’s all it is? You’re wearing your serious face.”
She tried to muster up a neutral expression even though her heart felt as heavy as an anvil in her chest. “I just need some time.”
Something flickered in his eyes—the ever-vigilant counselor not one to miss much. His voice was soft when he spoke again. “What kind of time, Georgia?”
Her lungs squeezed tight, and she let her hand curl into his. What could she say to this beautiful, wonderful man who’d turned her world inside out, who’d helped her find herself again? She couldn’t get the words out, couldn’t face the finality. She was such a fucking coward. She forced a facsimile of a smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back for Thanksgiving dinner. I would never deny you cheesecake.”
He didn’t smile back, but he didn’t push. He gave a little nod. “Whatever you need, Georgia.”
“Thanks.” She leaned down to give him a quick kiss, but when she moved to sit up again, he grabbed the back of her neck and tugged her down.
“We can do better than that.” He kissed her long and slow until she was breathless and on the verge of tears. Everything poured into the kiss—the need, the sweetness, the heat, the sadness. When he finally released her, her insides felt like they were folding in on themselves.