Page 58 of Chasing Dreams
He laughed out loud, a rusty sound she hadn’t heard before, and she was glad she was the one who’d drawn it from him. “Think we’d fit?” he asked, with a lift of one arched brow.
“I don’t know. Want to sneak up and try tonight?”
He stepped out and looked at the tub. “If we got wedged in, someone would have to grease us to get us out.”
“Why don’t we just grease up before we get in?”
He turned and looked at her then, a look of teasing humor, but something more. Something almost sad. Almost pensive. She thought of her dream, the one of him in the window, and the torment she’d sensed. Never spoken between them was the fact that Austin had the ability to do what she didn’t seem able to. He was the one who glimpsed the past.
But she would never ask him. She remembered his anguish in the dream, and remembered, too, that she’d known she had the ability to take it from him.
Perhaps this was how it could be prevented. By not asking. If she’d seen Austin in the future, then she could prevent him from suffering that anguish. And she would.
She wanted to kiss him hard and keep him with her forever. She wanted him to go before it hurt more than this.
She wanted him to let her love him.
But of course, he wouldn’t. And she couldn’t.
She turned and hurried back to her groceries.
* *
He found a gym in the phone book and borrowed Shaine’s car to go and work out. When he returned, she was sitting on the floor, looking through a photo album.
“You’re late,” she said, glancing up.
“All those hotties in their yoga pants distract me.”
She shook her head at his teasing.
He dropped a bag near the door. “Can I do a couple loads of wash?”
“Sure. Did you eat?”
He shook his head.
“I’ll slice some of that roast and make you a couple of sandwiches.”
He caught her wrist before she could head for the kitchen. “No. Sit down.”
She frowned at his curt order, but his intense expression convinced her to listen to whatever he had to say. She dropped onto the sofa and waited.
He sat on the chair across from her, elbows draped on his widespread knees.
He’s leaving.
His dark gaze touched her face and softened.
She’d known it last night. Don’t prolong it. Just say it and go.
“You know, don’t you,” he began, “that there’s only one thing left to do?”
She nodded. Say goodbye.
“The ironic thing is, you’ve never asked it of me.” He gave a little snort. “If you’d have begged or cajoled I’d have said no. But you didn’t ask.”
Asked him not to leave? She wouldn’t do that. That wouldn’t be fair. Confused now, she asked, “Asked what?”
