Page 121 of Off-Limits as Puck

I look up at him. “You know I do.”

“Then what is it going to take for you to stay?” he murmurs.

“Stay?” I ask. “I just told you that I have–”

“If you love me, everything else is logistics.”

“Logistics matter, Reed. Career logistics, family logistics, geographic logistics. Love doesn’t solve practical problems.”

“No, but it makes them worth solving.”

He reaches for my hand, fingers interlacing with mine.

“Look,” he continues, “I’m not asking you to abandon your life in Phoenix. I’m just asking you to consider whether the life you’re building there is the one you actually want.”

“What if I don’t know what I want?”

He doesn’t say anything, and the space gives me time to hear myself. I’m doing it again. I’m not choosing him. I’m chasing something else entirely that’s making me miserable and torn up on the inside, but I can’t let my guard down. I won’t uproot my life for someone. I’ve seen what happens to people when they do that.

“I need to think about it,” I say.

“Good. Think about it. Take all the time you need.”

“What if I decide Phoenix is where I belong?”

“Then I’ll visit every chance I get. We’ll make it work because it’s worth making work.”

He pulls me closer. “Don’t leave anytime soon. Stay more than a day. Stay a week. Two weeks. A month.”

“Tempting.”

“I’m very tempting.”

“You’re also very cocky.”

He smirks.

“I have work and people relying on me though, so I can’t stay too long.”

He lowers me back onto his chest, and suddenly guilt overtakes every nerve in my body. I can feel his heart start to race under my ear.

God, what is wrong with me? Why can’t I just do what I know would make me happy? Having this heart underneath me every night would solve a lot of my problems, or would it?

“I’m sorry,” I mutter.

He kisses the top of my head. “Don’t be sorry, Chelsea. I love you just the way you are.”

My eyes water because I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve this human’s heart handed to me because I have no idea what to do with it.

I think I love him so much that it hurts.

“I’m just happy you’re here,” he whispers, rubbing my arm. “Let’s get some sleep.”

I nod, making myself comfortable against him. I’ve neverwrapped myself on another person before. I think the last time I ever showed someone how much I loved them was my mother, and then she left me, and I was alone with this heart of love just for her.

I didn’t realize how much it was still affecting me after all this time. I’m almost thirty, and I wince at the idea. I know it’s time that I grow up, grow out of that trauma.

I grab Reed tightly and press my ear against his chest. Soon enough, his heartbeat slows along with his breathe, and I’m just left with my own thoughts that are telling me I should stay. The other parts are screaming at me to leave, to run away because this equals pain.

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