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My phone rang. It was Dax.
“Hey,” I burst into tears upon answering.
“Hey, I—” He paused. “Are you crying?”
The phone shook in my hands. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Dax. I’m freaking out.”
“Take a deep breath.”
“I’ve been unable to make the simplest decisions, ever since I said goodbye to my dad.” I sniffled. “And have I mentioned I’ve never even flown before? Now is not the opportune time to discover I have a fear of flying.”
He stepped right into action. “I’ll come over now. Okay?”
“Yes,” I said without hesitation, as if he’d thrown me a life raft.
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
I hung up and cried even harder. I slid to the ground and sat in the same spot against the wall until the doorbell rang.
I forced myself up to answer the door.
The sight of Dax standing there made my heart flutter.
“C’mere,” he said, taking me into his strong arms.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” I cried.
Dax caressed my hair. “You’re scared. That’s all.” He pulled back to look at me. “Despite your fear, you do want this, right?”
I want it, but I want you more. I nodded. “I do want it. I just wasn’t expecting it to feel like this.”
He looked down, noticing droplets of red paint on a couple of my toes—my attempt at a pedicure.
His eyes went wide. “Is your toe bleeding?”
“No. I tried to paint my toenails, but my hands were shaking so I couldn’t finish.”
“Where’s the nail polish?”
“In my room.”
He took my hand and led me up the stairs. “Come on.”
Dazed and confused, I followed him into my bedroom. He spotted the nail polish on my desk and grabbed it.
“Lie down,” he said.
I sat on my bed and leaned against the headboard. Dax sat farther down the bed with his back against the wall at my feet. He pulled my legs over his and opened the bottle. I watched in awe as he carefully began painting my toes. It was the most tender, precious thing anyone had ever done for me.
“Have you ever done this before?” I asked.
“Never.” He smiled.
“You’re not bad.”
“Well, when you open your spa someday and need a manicurist, you can let me know.” He winked.
“That would be a sight for sore eyes.” I laughed—the first time I’d laughed all day. “Thank you for coming to my rescue, Moody.”
He painted a few more strokes. “I’m not gonna lie. I’ve been struggling all morning, too.”
“Yeah,” I whispered.
The rest of the painting session was quiet. I sat back, trying to tame my nerves while watching this beautiful man concentrate.
After finishing my last nail, he closed the bottle and blew on my toes. It was adorable and made me love him even more—though I couldn’t tell him that. He then massaged the balls of my feet.
“Is this a role reversal, you massaging me?”
“Just trying to calm you down.”
“It feels good. Thank you.”
He kneaded the bottom of my foot. “You’re all packed and ready to go?”
“Yeah. Thankfully I had the foresight to get it done early, given how scatterbrained I feel right now.”
He applied a bit more pressure. “You have the right to feel however you feel.”
“Like my heart is being ripped out?”
“Even that.” He stopped massaging and looked up at me. I could see the sadness in his expression.
“I can see it in your eyes, Moody. Even if you’re trying to be tough about this, your eyes don’t lie. And honestly, I can feel it. I can feel how much you don’t want me to go, even if you can’t say it. I think it’s why I’m so fucked up. I’m sorry. I know I’m supposed to be strong and not talk about us anymore…”
He shook his head. “It’s okay. Say what you want.”
I might’ve taken that liberty a little too far, but I took him at his word.
“I want to feel you inside me,” I murmured. “It’s all I want.”
He shut his eyes as if my words stung.
It wasn’t fair of me to have blurted that when I damn well knew why we couldn’t go there. But I couldn’t hold it in. I ached for him. If this was the last moment of our secret, I had to let him know. My voice was barely audible. “I’m sorry.”
“No. Don’t be. You’ve apologized enough for an issue that’s not yours to bear alone. There’s nothing more I want…” He hesitated. “…than to be inside of you right now. I want you so fucking much it hurts.”
“What if we give in just this once? Then never speak of it again once I leave. He’ll never have to know.”
He let out a slightly angry laugh. “That would be the death of me.”
I thought it was going to end there, but then he spoke again.
“But pretty sure I’m willing to die if it means getting to have you even once.” His eyes burned into mine as his chest rose and fell.
