Page 301 of End Game

“But you're not disappearing into Chicago for a month unless you decide you want to.”

I look at the screen.

The boxes don't seem quite as threatening anymore.

Still big.

Still different.

But finite.

March first.

March twenty-ninth.

Then home.

Whatever happens after that can be a separate problem.

I am allowed to have problems sequentially.

Possibly.

“We're really okay?” I ask.

Micah closes the laptop.

Then he turns, catches my face in both hands, and kisses me.

Slow and sensual.

Just enough to make the answer impossible to misunderstand.

When he pulls back, his forehead stays against mine. “You get to want this.”

My eyes burn.

Fuck.

“You get to be excited about it.”

“That's asking a lot.”

“You get to be scared too.”

“Better.”

“And then you go.”

I breathe out. “And come back.”

Micah's mouth curves. “That part too.”

I kiss him again.

A minute later, when we're climbing into bed, my phone buzzes.

Austin's manager.