Page 2 of Eight Years Later

We fucked whenever he was in town. I never really knew when he would stop by unless one of the boys from the club mentioned that Tally was in town. He’d do his business then come by X-Rated or my apartment to see me—like tonight.

He never slept over.

That was our rule—he had to be out by sunrise.

Dylan may have only been two when this started, but I wanted to make sure he wasn’t confused by seeing someone else sleeping beside me when he came into my room at the ass crack of dawn. Especially because, at the time, I was sure it would never become anything serious.

And after more than a year, it still wasn’t.

But there was one difference.

I wished it was.

“You okay?” he questioned after he’d finally helped me back to my feet and quickly rinsed himself off. He grabbed a towel and scrubbed his wet skin, his eyebrow raised. “You seem quiet.”

I turned away and continued to wash and clean away the traces of him.

Tell him.

Tell him about the letter.

I couldn’t.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I said instead. “Just was a long ass night.”

The sounds of him pulling his clothes on twisted my gut even tighter. He would leave any minute, and I was standing in the damn shower fighting the urge to be honest with him in the hope that it would change things.

That maybe it would make him realize that he wants something more than we had.

“You know you can come to me for anything, right?” The joking was gone, his tone more serious than before and laced with concern.

Tell him!

“I—”

“Shit, Kit needs me at the clubhouse,” Tally cursed. A few seconds later, he pulled the shower door open again. “I gotta go, gorgeous. I’m heading home in the morning, so I’ll see you next time I’m up, probably in a few weeks.”

He pressed a kiss to my lips, not just a peck, but a kiss that I felt in my soul, his tongue swiped across my lips, seeking entrance. His hand cradled my jaw, and I leaned in, savoring every second before he finally pulled back, grinning. “See you later, gorgeous,” he said as he backed out of the bathroom.

Then he was gone.

The tears were instant—as if summoned by the click of the door as it closed behind him—and they didn’t stop when I shut the water off and wrapped my towel around me, water still dripping from my body as I stepped into my bedroom.

“You didn’t tell him.” Sophie sat in the middle of my bed, shaking her head and holding the letter in her hand—the acceptance letter to Jacksonville University in Florida.

I had planned to see Tally the next day and tell him I was starting my nursing career and the first step was moving to Jacksonville.

The second part of the plan had been to tell him that I’d fallen for him—hard—and hope he had fallen for me too. Or at least hope he would ask me to stay, start a real relationship, and see where things went between us. The plan had been easy to construct in theory. I’d convinced myself that a few hours together once every month or two was enough to build something on. But the way he’d come in and out that night, as if it were as easy as floating on a breeze, was the slap in the face I needed.

I let out an unsteady laugh, sending a new wave of tears streaking down my cheeks. “He was here for less than twenty minutes, Soph,” I told her, shaking my head. “He got his dick wet, and he left. That’s all this is.”

She threw her hands in the air. “You didn’t even give him the chance to consider anything more than that. Maybe knowing you’re leaving would be the thing that made him realize he wanted more than just this.”

“Or maybe it’s better this way,” I countered, swiping at the tears and trying to find myself again. “Maybe it’s better that I don’t know how he would have reacted.”

Maybe wondering ‘what if’ would be easier than hearing ‘no.’

Or maybe, I’d regret this forever.

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