Page 80 of The Lineman

An awkward moment passed, neither of us speaking or looking at the other.

He hummed and rubbed a hand over his face before looking at me properly. “You okay?”

I almost scoffed, but the way he asked it—quiet, like he already knew my mind was spinning—made me hesitate.

“Yeah,” I said after a beat. “Just thinking.”

Mike studied me, his brows drawing together. He was still half asleep, but that sharpness in him never really faded. “About?”

I let out a slow breath and leaned back, resting my head against the couch while rubbing his leg. I loved how his fur-covered skin felt against my fingers. “Mike, I’m leaving in a few days, maybe as early as tomorrow. The storm’s coming in fast.”

Something flickered across his face, too quick for me to catch.

He sat up a little, bracing an arm against the back of the couch. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Silence stretched between us.

A car’s engine roared as it passed by.

A pair of birds chittered in the tree just outside the window.

I should’ve left it at that, should’ve let the conversation drift into something easier, but the words were pressing against my ribs, and for once, I didn’t want to swallow them down.

“Will you wait?” I asked before I could stop myself. My voice came out quieter than I intended, rough around the edges. Fuck, I hated this stuff, having feelings, having to talk about them. It was so much easier joking and teasing and not really giving a shit.

Mike’s eyes widened slightly, and then, just as quickly, his expression softened. “You won’t be gone more than a few weeks or so. Of course, I will, silly.”

Relief hit me like a wave crashing against a beach, hard and unexpected. I looked away, feeling something in my chest loosen.

Mike shifted closer, his hand gripping my arm. “You thought I wouldn’t?”

I let out a sharp breath, shaking my head. “I’m not sure what I thought.”

He was quiet for a moment.

Then his hand found mine, his fingers curling around my wrist.

Not tight. Not demanding. Just there.

“Come back to me, El.” His voice was steady, certain. “Whenever you can.”

I swallowed hard, nodding once, then reached down and pushed curls off his forehead.

“I will.”

And for the first time in a long time, I knew I actually meant it.

Chapter twenty-four

Mike

Itappedmypenagainst my desk, staring at the open textbook in front of me, but the words blurred together. The murmuring of my students filled the room, a low hum of discussion as they worked through the assigned reading, but I wasn’t really listening.

My thoughts were everywhere—and nowhere—and in only one place.

On him.

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