We’d stopped in the living room, halfway to his bedroom, and we weren’t going to make it. I wanted him here, and now, and he seemed to have the same desire. I fumbled my fingers over the snap of my shorts, my urgency making them almost useless—
A loud, mechanical rumble came from behind the door to the garage.
We froze, and the sensation was like a bucket of frigid water doused us. Oh, no. That sound only meant one thing.
Preston was home.
TWELVE
I WAS MOVING BEFORE I REALIZED IT. Greg hurried me toward the kitchen, dragging me along on my sluggish, panicked legs. We had fifteen, maybe twenty seconds before Preston would come through the door to the garage. He’d know I was here, because my car was parked in the driveway. What the hell were we going to do?
I stared up at Greg, finding his face a calm, emotionless mask as he left me and scurried around to the other side of the island. “It’s okay,” he said quickly. “Let me do the talking when—”
No time. The door swung open, and Preston sauntered in. His gaze scanned the area in search of something, noticing his father on one side of the kitchen, and finally he found me. “Cassidy?” He looked confused. “What are you doing here?”
I opened my mouth to speak, but his father’s deep voice rang out first. “She left her hoodie in your bathroom and asked if she could stop by to pick it up.” Greg nodded toward the sweatshirt resting on the countertop as proof. “You’re home early,” he added.
Preston didn’t notice the strain buried in his father’s statement and shrugged. “The restaurant was dead, so they let me off.” His attention returned to me. “Why didn’t you text me?”
I blinked. Was he serious? Putting aside everything related to his dad and treating Preston solely as my ex, it was weird as hell seeing him. What was I supposed to say? That being in the same room with him made me uncomfortable, and this was easier?
Better was the more appropriate word, because I’d come over tonight with a bigger goal than just avoiding my ex or retrieving my favorite hoodie. When I glanced at Greg, I tried to tamp down my disappointment that we’d been interrupted.
Shit, what a selfish thing to be thinking about.
He must have thought I was looking to him for help, because he answered Preston for me. “I think Cassidy felt more comfortable if you weren’t here, since the break-up.”
Preston went still. “The what?”
Breath halted painfully in my lungs.
Oh my God. He still didn’t think we’d broken up? My focus flitted from Preston to his father, and I could see the muscles flexed tight along Greg’s jaw. He looked hurt, and maybe angry.
He thought I’d lied to him.
“We broke up.” I said it too loudly because I was nervous, but also because I needed to make sure both men heard me. “Like, several times.”
Preston unbuttoned the white dress shirt of his uniform, shooting me a dubious look. “We had a fight. You were mad, and I told you to call me when you were over it.” He stripped down to his white undershirt and tossed the uniform on the counter like he’d just thrown down a gauntlet.
“No, that’s not what happened. I told you we were over.”
Preston’s confidence cracked, and there was a glimmer of the boy I’d fallen in love with. He went grave. “You’re breaking up with me?”
The temperature in the kitchen fell so rapidly, I thought about grabbing my hoodie and putting it on, but then worried I’d pull the hood closed around my face and try to disappear. Was I about to break up with him a third time, and with his dad watching?
I was barely able to push the word out. “Yes.”
As his face twisted with pain, I felt the same twisting in my heart. Greg was rooted in place, even though his expression said he’d rather be anywhere else. Perhaps he thought if he stayed motionless, we’d forget he was there.
Not fucking likely.
“Why?” Preston demanded. I’d practiced the answer so many times, but now my mind went blank. “Is there someone else?” he continued.
I couldn’t help how my eyes flicked to Greg’s, but he wasn’t looking at me. He stared at the counter, frowning. There was guilt there, which I understood. I felt it too. It was a thick, hard shell trapping everything in a confusing mess of emotions.
I ignored Preston’s second question. “It’s not working anymore.”
“Yeah, I know these last few weeks haven’t been the best, but I’ve—”
“It hasn’t been working for a while,” I said flatly. “Even when we were still in school.”
He came closer and put his hand on the counter beside me, invading my space, and I sucked in a sharp breath. His proximity made me want to step back, but I also didn’t want to appear weak. I needed to hold my ground and get through this.