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All the ease leaves his posture as his jaw clenches tightly. His hands are still stuffed in his pockets, but his shoulders are rigid and tensed beneath the cotton material of his t-shirt.
“You’re a priority.”
I wait, but that’s all he says.
I’m sick of him giving me inches and pretending they’re miles.
“I should get back to work,” I say, waiting for him to leave.
The softclickof paws on linoleum sounds. Milo appears, slinking around the corner and taking a seat by my feet. I rub the top of his head gently.
“New dog?”
That would apply to any canine we’ve received in the year it’s been since he was last here, technically. But I know he’s minutes—if not seconds—from walking out the door, and I simply don’t have the energy to make that point.
“Yeah.”
“He’s cute.”
“He is,” I agree.
Holden is looking at Milo like he’s expecting the dog to walk over and greet him, but he remains at my side dutifully.
My affection for Milo swells. Leaving him next week will suck.
“You’re not giving me much, Cas.”
I stiffen. At the implication the awkwardness between us is exclusively my fault, and at his use of the casual nickname.
“I don’t have much to give.”
I’ve known Holden since we were kids. I was in love with him for years before we officially got together. He was my first kiss. My first love. The first guy I had sex with.
I’ve given himeverything.
My heart. My body. My loyalty. My love.
And I’m worried he’s bored. That commitment isn’t exciting.
Worried my standards sunk. That I started getting less and less, and just accepted it.
Worried we got too comfortable. That we’re in a routine of a relationship.
Suggesting we take a break this summer was supposed to jolt us.
And…I’m not sure what it did.
“Does that mean you’re done?”
Done.
Such an innocuous word for such a massive decision.
But Holden isn’t indifferent, at least. There’s emotion in the words that’s echoed in his tense posture.
“It means we need to talk. And I can’t talk now. Plus, you’re about to leave.”Again, I add silently.
He exhales. “You could come.”
