Page 26 of A Very Grumpy Marine

My stomachdrops.

“Lymric.”

“I need to go,” she blurts, barely looking at me.

“No,” I growl, standing too. “Don’t do this. Don’t fuckingrunfrom me.”

She swallows hard, shaking her head. “I just—I need tothink, okay?”

I clench my fists. My whole body iswiredwith frustration, my chest so fucking tight it physically hurts.

But I let her go. I let her fuckinggo. Because she’s not ready. Not yet, and if I push too hard, Iwilllose her.

She walks out of the restaurant, and I stand there, fists clenched at my sides, trying to breathe through the ache in my chest.

The waitress stops by, looking hesitant. “Uh, do you guys still want the food?”

I nod stiffly. “Yeah. To go.”

She nods quickly and rushes off, and I sink back into the booth, dragging a hand down my face.

What the fuck am I supposed to do now?

Back at my place, I throw the takeout bags onto the counter and drop into a chair. Gunner pads over, his tail wagging, and nudges his head under my hand.

“Yeah, I know,” I mutter, scratching behind his ears. “She ran.”

He lets out a soft huff, resting his big head on my lap. I sigh.

Shelovesme. I know she does. She just won’t let herself say it. Won’t let herselfbelieveit, and I don’t know how to fix that.

I don’t know how tomakeher see that I’m not asking her to change, that I don’t need her to choose between me and her career.

I just needher.

I stare at the wall, my jaw tight.

I have two choices.

I can wait. Let her come to me. Or I can fight for her.

And I’m a Marine. I don’t back down from a fight. I’m going toproveto her that this isn’t impossible. That she doesn’t have to bescared. That she can havebothbecause she’s already my home.

Now I just have to wait and see what she’ll do and just pray that she’ll pick me, too.

NINE

Lymric

“I haven’t seenhim in two days.”

I don’t mean for it to sound so miserable, but the moment the words leave my mouth, I realize just how much I miss Camden.

Lilou arches a perfectly shaped brow, her lips twitching as she sips her latte. “And whose fault is that?”

I scowl, stirring my iced coffee with unnecessary force. “Mine. I know. You don’t have to sound so smug about it.”

“I’m not smug,” she says innocently, but her hazel eyes gleam with way too much amusement. “I’m just trying to figure out why you look like someone kicked your puppy when you’re the one who pulled away.”

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