Page 175 of These Secret Years

“What are you saying then?” he asks. “We’re over?”

What is that? Like the fourth time now he’s implied that this is a use it or lose it deal? I don’t like it, and now I’m the one getting pissed off. “Is that what you want?”

“I can move in with Shannon,” he says.

Fuck. How often has been thinking about this? He has motherfucking plans? My head ticks slowly to the side. “Why would you do that?”

“Because Shannon and I have a common goal, and if this is going nowhere, I might as well get to work on it.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you’re gonna get drafted in April, and you’ll wind up where? Florida?”

“California,” I say because San Francisco is way more likely to trade up to get me. Their team is a disaster, under new ownership, and, according to my agent, I’m the exact kind of player they need to build a team around. If I’m lucky, Deandre will wind up there, too.

“Well, I’m staying here,” he says. “I’ve decided to go to grad school.”

This is news, and it’s a blow, too. “When were you planning to tell me that?”

“I’m telling you now,” he says almost coldly. “So, either way, it doesn’t work.”

“What is this, then? Ripping the band-aid off? Because I wouldn’t hold you down to fuck you? What if I had? Would we still be having this conversation?”

“Too late to find out now.”

I can’t believe this. Goddamnit. I push him back to give myself room to stand up. If I were ever going to fuck someone in anger, this would be enough reason to do it. I’m furious. It feels like he set me up. And not only that he fucking blindsided me. My jaw clenches as I stare at him. He’s all cool resolve except for a fine tremble running through him.

But maybe he’s just cold.

“Want me to take my shit and go?” I ask through a clenched jaw. I’ve never heard my voice sound like that. Low. Small.

He gives me one thing here: a hesitation. Like maybe this spun out of control too fast for him, and he’s not sure how to take it back, but it’s possible that he wants to.

Then, “Unless you want me to leave. I’d understand.”

Either I’m calling his bluff, or I’m shutting down entirely. It’s hard to say. I shake my head. “No. I’m already packed for tomorrow. I’ll find another flight out so you won’t have to sit with me.”

I wait there, hesitating, needing him to take back what he said and tell me this was all a misunderstanding, but when he doesn’t, I realize the only thing I’ve misunderstood is that he wanted us to work as much as I did.

I stand and walk into the bedroom where my bag is packed but unzipped. I move slowly. I get my leather travel kit out of the bathroom and toss it into the suitcase with the rest of the clothes I already put in there. He’s darkening the doorway while I zip it closed.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

Fuck, that hurts worse than anything he’s said so far. “Yeah? For what?”

“I didn’t mean for all this to happen tonight. I just wanted to have sex with you.”

I’ll do anything not to have it end like this. “Can we try again?”

“I think we need a break,” he says softly. “These years—I think we were exactly what each other needed. I can’t imagine them without you. You made it bearable.”

Oh fuck, this is really happening. He’s got a speech and everything. I swallow hard and try to keep my face stoic. “But?”

“But…we were always different. Now we might as well be from different planets. I think our lives—the time we’ve spent in this place—decided to push us apart instead of closer together.”

“I don’t see it that way.”

“No?”