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Fuck. He knows.
Of course, he knows.
Why else would I be bawling in the middle of the shop?
I…
I can't let him follow me down this road.
If I only do one thing, it will be this.
"Come on. I'll drive you back to my place. You can take the rest of the week off. Get your head on straight."
"But—"
"You're right. I'll cancel the rest of today's appointments."
"No, Dean." I try to push myself away from him, but I can't. He feels too good. "Stop. Listen."
He runs his fingers through my hair.
I look up at him. Finally.
There's hurt in his expression but just barely. Mostly, he looks confident. Sure. Like he's ready to do anything to make this better for me.
Maybe he is.
God, I hope he is.
"It's not that. It's probably nothing," I say. "Probably a cyst."
"You don't have to convince me of shit."
That's where he's wrong. I do.
And I have to sell the hell out of it.
"I'm fine. The follow-up is just a precaution."
His eyes bore into mine. They pick me apart. Demand every thought in my head.
"That isn't what I want to talk about."
"You don't want to talk about how your can—"
"Don't say it here. Please." I wrap my fingers around his wrists. "The thing is…"
He stares back, patient and caring.
"I think… No, I know… No… Forget the qualifiers. I'm breaking up with you."
Chapter Thirty-Five
Dean
I blink twice.
It does nothing to change the situation.
