Soft lips trail up my collarbone to my throat. “I’ve waited so long to touch you. To kiss you… to make love to you.”
Tears prickle my eyes.
“I love you, Avril. I know it’s shitty timing because of the breakup, but I need you to know.” He strokes my face, and I can feel the truth in every gentle touch. “I’ll wait as long as it takes until you are over, Ben.”
Hot, salty tears stream down my cheeks. Lucas cups my face and kisses them away.
He walks to the bathroom and comes back with a warm washcloth. His touch is gentle and loving as he cleans my body, making the tears stream harder.
He scoops me in his arms, cradling me as he walks toward my bedroom. I want him to lay me down in bed and hold me forever.
How can I leave now?
He kicks something, stumbling forward until we both fall onto my mattress.
“Well, that wasn’t my best seductive move….” He laughs as he pushes himself to his knees and looks at the floor. “What was that?”
My chest swells as a choking panic fills me—I forgot about the boxes I stacked in my room.
“A box.” He says with a slight laugh, but his gaze moves to the boxes lined against the bedroom wall. His brows pull together in confusion. “I thought Ben already took all of his things.”
Tell him. “He did.”
“So what’s with all the boxes?”
“I’m leaving,” I answer, my voice monotone, numbness making my limbs heavy and my voice small.
“Leaving?”
I nod.
He looks at my bare walls and empty dresser, usually covered in trinkets and candles.
His frown deepens as he pushes himself from the bed and stalks toward the kitchen.
I follow, desperate to find a way to explain but watching as the consequences of my secret unfold.
He yanks open one empty cupboard, then another, and slams the doors shut. He looks around the house, noticing more of the missing objects packed away. “Where are you going?”
“Home,” I whisper.
“Seattle?” He grips the counter. “That’s the other side of the country.”
“I know.”
“When were you going to tell me?”
Words get stuck in my throat because I don’t know the answer.
His jaw tightens, hurt flashing across his face. “We’re you planning to fuck me and leave without saying goodbye?”
I want to deny it, but my mouth is as dry as chalk, my words just as brittle. “I can’t stay,”
“You think I would have asked you to?” he snaps.
I recoil, the words stinging like a slap to my face.
He walks toward me, and every part of my body hums with the need to feel his arms around me, to hear him say we can figure this out, and everything will be okay.