Even if it was just for the summer.
Even if it ended in August.
I deserved to have it while I could.
So I grabbed my keys and ran out of the house, straight to my car.
The drive to Dex’s house took fifteen minutes, but it felt like forever. My heart was pounding the entire way, as I rehearsed what I’d say, how I’d apologize.
I’m sorry for being scared. I’m sorry for hiding. I’m sorry for not being brave enough to claim what I want.
His truck was in the driveway. The house lights were on.
I parked, got out, walked to his door.
Knocked before I could second-guess myself.
He opened it after a few seconds, and the look on his face, surprise, hope, something that looked almost like relief, made my chest ache.
“Leigh?”
“I’m sorry,” I said immediately. “About the phone call. About pushing to keep this secret. About being scared.”
“You don’t have to…”
“Let me finish.” I stepped closer. “You were right. We should tell them. We need to tell them. And I’m sorry I wasn’t ready before, but I’m ready now. Or I’m trying to be ready. Or maybe I’m ready to try to figure out how to be ready.”
A smile tugged at his lips. “That was a lot of ‘ready.’“
“I’m nervous. I’m rambling.” I took a breath. “What I’m trying to say is that I want to stop hiding. I want to tell them. Together. We’ll figure out what to say and when to say it, but I don’t wantto keep asking people to keep our secret. I don’t want to only see you at wedding events. I don’t want to pretend this doesn’t matter when it’s the thing that matters most right now.”
He stared at me. “Leigh…”
“And I know it’s temporary. I know I’m leaving in August. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t count. It doesn’t mean it’s not real. And I want it to be real. I want people to know it’s real.”
“Come here,” he said, pulling me inside and closing the door behind me.
Then he kissed me.
Not gentle. Not tentative. But fierce and claiming and full of everything we’d been holding back for two days.
I kissed him back with equal intensity, my hands fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer.
“I missed you,” I gasped against his mouth.
“Two days. It was two days and it felt like forever.”
“I know. I know.”
We made it to the couch. Barely. Hands everywhere, clothes disappearing, desperate and hungry and making up for lost time.
“Bedroom,” he managed between kisses.
“No. Here. Now. I need you now.”
So we stayed on the couch. Fast and intense and perfect. No slow buildup, no teasing. Just need and want and the relief of being together again.
After, we lay tangled together, both breathing hard, my head on his chest.
