His indifferent attitude was too much, and I felt gutted. I barely choked it out, “Goodbye, Preston.”
I flung his door open and fled through the living room, keeping my head up and ignoring the two guys playing on the couch. But Preston went after me, grabbing my shoulder and turning me to face him. “This is stupid,” he said. “Calm down.”
The TV went silent. One of the guys must have paused the game, either so Preston and I could hear each other, or so he could listen to our second breakup play out. I wasn’t going to put a show on for them, but my anger wasn’t going away either.
“Don’t touch me,” I hissed.
His face turned sour. “You know what? You can call me when you’ve calmed down.”
If Preston wanted to wait for a phone call that was never going to come, so be it. My expression was firm, masking how wounded he’d made me feel. I’d been determined to end things with him but had prepared for a struggle. It had been wasted. He wasn’t going to fight for us. He turned on his heel, went to the couch, and grabbed his controller.
After everything, that was how he treated me.
I wiped at my eyes as I climbed the stairs, brushing away the angry tears. He didn’t care about me, so why should I care about him? I wasn’t going to waste any more time on him.
Dr. Lowe was washing a dish in the sink, and when he heard me at the top of the basement steps, he cast a glance over his shoulder. His eyes widened. The water was shut off, and he hurriedly dried his hands on a dishtowel, stepping toward me. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” My tone was clipped. I wanted to run, but also to stay right where I was. A big part of me wasn’t ready for him to be gone.
He slung the dishtowel over his shoulder and crossed his arms, perhaps to stop himself from reaching out for me, and leaned back against the kitchen island. His eyes were full of sympathy. “That was fast.”
“Yup.” I tried to force my feet to move, but they wouldn’t. “Three years, and it’s no big deal.” My voice broke. “I mean, he’s just down there playing video games, so . . . he’s fine.”
I was swept up into his hug so abruptly, it squeezed the air from my body, and in my weakened state, I softened into Dr. Lowe. His embrace was fierce, and perfect, and exactly what I desired.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Since I had my forehead pressed against his collarbone, he couldn’t see me twist my face into displeasure. “Don’t. It’s not your fault.”
“I know, but I’m sorry anyway.”
We fell silent. The only sound in the kitchen was the faint ticking of the clock on the far wall. I turned my head and pressed my cheek to the flat plane of his chest, and in response, his arms shifted and settled around me. Neither of us made an effort to step away.
I was greedy. I knew it was selfish and wrong to want his embrace, but I did regardless. It felt like I belonged here. His chest lifted as he drew in a deep breath, and I rode the rise and fall with my eyes closed, hoping the hands on the ticking clock would freeze and go quiet.
But they didn’t.
Each second built in my body like a timer counting down, and anxiety swelled, dreading the moment he’d let me go and it’d be time for me to leave. I’d do anything to prevent it.
So, it was a desperate measure when I lifted on my toes and tilted my head, moving to slant my lips over his. I caught him by surprise, but only for a moment, and then his mouth softened to welcome my reckless kiss.
I shivered as he took over and drove away all thoughts. My arms wrapped tighter around his waist, holding on as his dominating mouth pressed to mine and pulled a sigh from my body.
“Wait, wait,” he said, abruptly yanking his head back and breaking off the kiss. “I’ve been waiting here, washing the same damn dish for the last five minutes, hoping when you came back upstairs, I’d find an excuse to talk to you. We need to, Cassidy.”
“Oh,” I whispered.
The blood in my face heated to a million degrees. I didn’t want to talk about it, but it didn’t matter. I wasn’t going anywhere. Plus, I was certain I’d do pretty much whatever he said, as long as his arms were around me and the buzz from his kiss lingered on my lips.
“I can’t stop thinking about what would have happened if the hospital hadn’t called.”
The way he said it made it impossible to tell if he felt regret or relief. I swallowed the thick knot in my throat. “Me too.”