Page 150 of Bloom

“You like it?”

“It’s perfect.” I sniff. The nicest thing, the best thing, anyone has ever done for me. “It’s the perfect first date.”

He strokes from the crown of my head to the ends of my hair where it brushes the middle of my back. “Real cute that you think this is our first date.”

It takes me a confused moment to realize what he’s talking about. “They weren’t dates.”

“No?” Hot breath tickles my ear. “Two people who like each other doing something they enjoy together? That’s not a date?”

I pull away, opening my mouth for a rebuttal.

A tut quickly cuts me off. “Tell me I didn’t like you, honey. See what happens.”

Warmth coiling in my lower belly, I almost do just to see how, exactly, he follows through on that threat. I decide againstit, though. Resting my cheek against his chest again, I decide to just enjoy this, now,him, while I can.

“I miss you and you’re not even gone yet,” he whispers against the top of my head as we sway gently to the music, and I almost do something rash. I almost ask him to come with me, as outrageous as that is. Outrageous, yet I want it anyway. I want it so fiercely—I want more of these moments, these lovely, perfect moments, but I can’t. I won’t. It’s selfish, and he hasn’t been selfish, he hasn’t asked me to stay, so I won’t ask him to leave.

We’ll have a moment like this again. I promise myself we will.

That doesn’t stop me from savoring this one, though.

From pocketing this as my favorite, my best, bright side.

45

When he can’t sleep for fear of missing a single second in her presence, he thinks the choice is made for him.

Naked in his bed,I soak up the feel of him drawing random shapes on my back, and I try really, really hard not to cry.

He tuts a gentle reprimand when I sniff loudly. Dragging me towards him, settling us chest-to-chest, he kisses the salty trail beneath my eyes. “None of that, honey.”

His mouth drops to mine, pressing slow kisses that somehow end up with him inside me again, another condom wrapper joining the ever-growing pile on the nightstand. We move slowly, taking time we don’t have.

I think we’d both prefer to stay wrapped up in each other all day if we could, but we don’t have all day. We don’t even have all morning. I want to get on the road early so I’m not racing to get to my first destination before sundown—I want to get what’s undoubtedly going to be so very horrible over with instead of ruining our last day dreading it.

I didn’t cry when I packed up my apartment yesterday, nor when I loaded my meager belongings into my truck. I lasted an entire night wrapped in Hunter’s arms without shedding a tear—a miracle I truly didn’t think myself capable of. Now, though, as I come apart under him for what feels like the hundredth time, I can’t stop myself. And after he groans his own release, he spends just as long kissing away my tears, telling me it’s okay and he loves me, reminding me it’s goodbye for now, not forever.

It is goodbye, though. The first of many today, shared between just the two of us before I drive alone to the main house to get Herc because I know in my gut, in my chest, in my bones, I wouldn’t be able to say it otherwise. I wouldn’t be able to get in the damn car.

Even now, it’s a struggle. The offer—theplea—to come with lingers on the tip of my tongue as I climb behind the wheel. Just like he did the other night, he leans through the window to kiss me one last time. “Call me when you get there, okay?”

I nod, knowing I’ll be itching to dial his number the whole way to Sun Valley on what Luna and Lux have taken to calling myEat, Pray, Lovemoment. If you’d told me a year ago—if you’d told me six damn months ago—that I’d be embarking on a roadtrip to spend a few days with my ex-boyfriend’s girlfriend, I would’ve laughed. And maybe cried a little. Now, though, it doesn’t feel all that weird. It feels like progress.

It feels like a quintessential young adult experience, sharing a house with a handful of college students, and isn’t that what this journey of mine is for? Tolive?

Knuckles graze my cheek, fingers tuck my hair behind my ears, lips press to my forehead, and that’s that. He pats the roof of my truck once and steps away, and there’s nothing left to do but start the engine and drive.

I linger on the ranch longer than I intend to. Turns out, neither Lux nor I are particularly good at short-and-sweet goodbyes. We skillfully procrastinate, talking about everything but the matter at hand, wandering between the barn and the house until I’ve said goodbye to every living creature in residence multiple times.

It’s close to midday by the time I watch Serenity disappear in my rearview mirror. My eyes catch on the charm cord looped around it, swaying gently from side to side. A tiny stoppered jar hangs from a leather cord, full of dirt plucked right from the earth Serenity is built on.

“A little piece of home,” Lux had whispered as she’d slipped it into my palm, and I’m surprised it didn’t shatter with how hard my fist closed around it—I’m surprised Lux didn’t shatter with how hard I hugged her, whispering another goodbye that chipped away another piece of my heart. “I’ll come visit, okay? Me and Alex, wherever you end up, we’ll visit.”

She hasn’t left Serenity in over a decade yet I believed her. And when I promised to come back one day, I was telling the truth too. I just don’t know when that day will be.

Which is why, as I drive through Haven Ridge, I take the time to reallylook. I commit Main Street to memory, biting down on my quivering bottom lip as I pass Bloom, giving into the hopeless sentimentalist within me that convinces me I need sustenance for the road.

Parking across from Bishop’s, I leave a window cracked and Herc in the truck as I make one last quick stop. Ten minutes later, I walk out sipping a spicy lemonade, cradling a takeoutbag, both of which I almost drop on the sidewalk when I see the large man casually leaning against my truck.

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