Page 50 of Make Me Swoon

“Hey,” I say as he slips past me into the apartment.

“Hey, long time no see.”

“Yeah, how was the rest of your visit with your friends?”

“Fine. It was boring without you.”

I force a smile, stepping back when he tries to kiss me.

“What’s all this?” he asks, noticing my bags stacked up by the door.

“I’m headed to Chicago for my stepsister’s wedding.”

“I thought that wasn’t for a few more days,” he asks with a frown.

“Originally, yes, but I have to be fitted for my dress and help with some other things.”

He doesn’t look like he believes me, and I swallow hard as I grab the first bag. I packed up most of my belongings. I left the furniture and bigger items. None of it was fancy anyway, and I can replace it later when I get to wherever I’m going.

I already told Sutton and Stan that I was going to be gone for a few months and I figured that they would let me go, but they surprised me by saying my job would be here when I got back.

I’m sure that a big part of that is because it’s the slow season, but still, it’s nice to know that I’ll be missed here and that they want me back here. Part of me wonders if I’ll really ever come back though.

“This seems like a lot of stuff for a few weeks visit,” Hudson says as he helps me carry the bags down to my Jeep and I nod.

When I look up into his eyes, I can tell that he knows what I’m about to say next.

“Don’t,” he says quietly, his fingers tightening on the straps of my duffel bag that he’s holding until his knuckles turn white. “Don’t do this, Lyla.”

“I’m so sorry,” I sob, turning away to wipe the tears from my face.

“Why?” he demands.

“It’s time to get back to my trip,” I say, pulling out the envelope of money and passing it to him.

He glares down at it, making no move to take it.

“I have enough to pay you back for the damage to your car. I wasn’t going to leave town without paying you back.”

“I don’t want the money. I never wanted the money. I just wanted you, Lyla.”

“It’s for you. I owe you.”

“I don’t want it,” he insists.

“I’m leaving, Hudson. It’s time for me to take my trip.”

“No,” he says, taking a step back from me.

He’s still holding my bag and I reach out, trying to take it from him, but he holds it out of my reach.

That’s it. I snap. This is already hard enough as it is. Can’t he see that I’m trying to do the right thing.

I slap the envelope of money against his chest and he reaches for it reflexively.

“It’s over, Hudson.”

“No, it’s not. Why are you running?”

---