Page 108 of The Lineman

I huffed. “I don’t need to.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

I swallowed hard. “No.”

Mike had gone quiet then, and for a second, I thought maybe he was going to let it drop.

But then—

“Well,” he’d said, reaching out to brush his fingers through my hair. “Maybe you should try it sometime.”

I’d frozen.

I hadn’t known how to respond to that.

I still didn’t.

Number Six: He wasn’t afraid to want me.

Okay, this might’ve been the worst item on my list—but it was also the most important.

I’d been with people before—plenty of them—but it had always been surface level, always built on heat and convenience and nothing deeper than that.

Mike wasn’t like that.

He didn’t just say he wanted me—he showed it.

He showed it in the way he touched me, in the way he looked at me, in the way he waited for me to catch up.

I wasn’t used to that.

I wasn’t used to being wanted like I was something worth waiting for.

And the worst part?

I wanted him just as badly.

I wanted to hear him laugh at me again. I wanted to sit on his couch and listen to him complain about his students. I wanted to wake up to his voice in the morning, to feel his warmth next to me, to have that in a way I’d never let myself have before.

I wanted it all.

And I had no idea what the hell to do about it.

I couldn’t stop thinking about the last night we’d spent together, the way he looked up at me from the couch, sleepy and warm, his fingers brushing against mine like he’d already decided I belonged there.

The way he’d whispered, “Come back to me.”

The way I wanted to.

Even now, with miles of open road stretched in front of me, my chest felt too tight, my thoughts too tangled. I didn’t know what to do with any of it.

I needed a distraction.

I reached for my phone, flipping through my audiobook library until I found the one I’d downloaded before leaving Florida.

A gay romance.

I had no fucking clue why I’d picked it. I wasn’t the type to read romance—never had been. Maybe I’d just been curious. Maybe I’d wanted something to fill the quiet. Maybe, deep down, I’d needed to hear a story about someone like me.

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