Page 77 of Property of Tacoma
And Tacoma?
He was quiet too, lost somewhere deep in his head.
The shower door opens behind me, and Tacoma steps in, his hands immediately finding my hips. He pulls me back against his chest, and I lean into him, grateful for the contact.
“I’m sorry about dinner,” I say, turning to face him. “I didn’t mean to upset everyone.”
He doesn’t respond, just presses his lips to mine in a kiss that feels desperate, almost frantic.
His hands roam my body, pulling me closer, like he’s trying to memorize every curve, every dip.
There’s an urgency to his touch that hasn’t been here before.
When we finally step out of the shower, I wrap a towel around my body, tucking the corner under my arm to secure it.
Tacoma wraps a towel around his waist but doesn’t look at me as he walks out of the bathroom without a word.
I drop my head and sigh.
It’s not like I’m happy about having to go either.
Lifting my head, I follow him out to the bedroom. “Tacoma?—”
“I think this was a bad idea,” he says, not meeting my eyes as he steps into a black pair of basketball shorts.
My breath seizes in my lungs, and I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut. “What do you mean, this was a bad idea? What are you saying?”
He runs a hand through his damp hair, his back still to me. “This. Us. The kids getting attached. It was a mistake.”
I stare at him, not believing what I’m hearing. “You don’t mean that.”
“Look,” he says, finally turning to face me. His eyes are cold, distant. “It was fun, but we knew it wouldn’t last. This isn’t your home.”
I flinch, his words like a knife to my already bleeding heart.
How can he say that? After everything we’ve shared these past three weeks? After telling me he was falling in love with me?
“I don’t understand,” I whisper, tears welling in my eyes. “Last night you said?—”
“I know what I said,” he cuts me off, his voice hard. “But I’ve had time to think. This isn’t going to work, Cali. You’re always going to have to leave. That’s your job. And my kids can’t handle that kind of instability.”
Tears spill down my cheeks now, hot and angry. “That’s not fair. I love them and their stubborn ass father. And you love me.” He hasn’t said the words, but he shows me every day.
“Love?” He laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “After three weeks? Come on, Cali. We were fucking. That’s all this was.”
His words hit their mark, and my heart shatters into a million pieces. “You don’t mean that.”
“I do,” he says flatly. “It was fun, but let’s not pretend it was anything more than that.”
I stare at him, searching his face for any sign of the man I thought I knew, the man who held me and whispered sweet words against my skin—the man who vowed that I was his.
But that man is long gone. Vanished.
All I see is a cold stranger.
“You’re lying,” I whisper, my voice shaking. “I don’t know why, but you’re lying.”
“Think whatever you want,” he shrugs. “But you need to leave.”
