“Of course you could. You’re smart, hardworking, and a great communicator.” Her hand was limp in his, shaking, but she maintained steady eye contact. “So if things didn’t work out with the tennis center, what other job opportunities would you pursue?”
He waved his free arm, the gesture near-violent. “I’d have between now and December to consider that.”
But he knew that was an insufficient answer. They both did.
She hadn’t even cut to the frantically beating, pained heart of the matter. But he was forcing her to do it, and she wouldn’t shirk the responsibility.
“Lucas, you’ve known me less than two weeks. For that entire time, I’ve been on vacation.” She pressed her lips together to stop their trembling. “The person I am when I’m working, the life I live during the school year…you won’t want that. You won’t want me.”
When he began to protest, she spoke over him. “I’m not great at nurturing intimate relationships at the best of times. I don’t know whether ours can survive long-distance for half a year, and I don’t know if it can survive your arrival in a town you chose solely because of me. You’d be friendless and potentially jobless.”
His face sagged, and he wasn’t looking at her anymore. Instead, he was gazing at the muted television as his friend served into the net, then did it again. Nick had double-faulted. In doing so, he’d lost the game, the set. Lost the match, full stop.
“My friendships don’t vanish simply because we don’t live in the same place.” There was a thread of defiance in Lucas’s voice, despite everything. “Look at you and Belle.”
“Fair point.” She inclined her head. “The rest of mine still stand. I appreciate your offer, more than y-you—”
Her breath hitched, and she had to cut herself off and gather her composure.
“I care about you, Lucas.” She strengthened her grip on his hand. Clutched it close for what was probably the last time, because she didn’t think they could come back from this conversation. “But what you’re proposing isn’t practical, and I don’t think you really know what you want. Not right now. Not yet. I’m not even certain a casual long-distance relationship makes sense, given the situation.”
As she spoke, his head lifted, and he stared at her, brow creased in concentration.
“Practical,” he murmured to himself.
Then he gave a little nod, as if in sudden understanding. His mouth remained set and grim. But when his back straightened and he slid his hand from between hers, he no longer seemed lost. No longer seemed damnablyyoungand unsettled and rudderless.
“Okay, Tess. Okay.” His voice had turned firm again, conviction in every syllable. “I hear what you’re saying. I also hear what you’renotsaying.”
This conversation was shredding her. Her joints ached as if she had the flu, and her skull was pounding in rhythm with her overworked heart. But he deserved his say, and she couldn’t stand to walk away, both literally and figuratively.
“Tell me,” she invited.
So he did.
* * *
The starburstsof lines at the corners of Tess’s eyes had never been deeper, and she was holding herself like a woman in pain. Stillness punctuated by ginger movements, agony scored between drawn brows and sketched in brackets around her mouth.
Once he’d beaten back his instinctive defensiveness, hurt, and anger, he’d recognized that stance, that expression. After all, he’d seen it in the mirror countless times. He’d seen it from across the net when an opponent was playing through injury.
Lucas couldn’t find any indication she’d physically damaged herself between dinner and now, which told him everything. Or if not everything, enough.
Despite the affectless, damnable logic of her words, he saw it now. He sawher.
Lucas held up one finger. “You’re not saying you don’t want me.”
She licked her lips, a nervous gesture, and it was all the answer he needed.
A second finger. “You’re not saying you don’t want a future with me.”
Still no argument. No denial. No leavening of the weight slumping her shoulders and dragging her gaze to the floor.
A third finger, and he held his breath for this one. “You’re not saying you don’t love me.”
At that, her eyes flew to his, stricken and damp. But she still said nothing. Not one word. With her silence, the tightness in his chest loosened, if only slightly.
Love couldn’t solve everything, but without love, there was nothing to solve.
