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I nod slowly, looking down at my toes.

“I . . . I’ve heard things.”

“Hmm.” His thumb rubs over my lip. “What have you heard, Killer?”

“You’re a bad man.”

“Rarely.”

“Then how have I heard about it?”

“I make an impact when it counts.”

I nod, my shoulders slumping down from exhaustion.

“I’ll let you sleep, sweetheart. And I’ll give you some space to work through these feelings, okay?” He sounds resigned. Guilt overtakes me. I have done that to him. I’ve brought up things I have no real knowledge of. Going off rumors and hearsay. I’ve ruined what could have been us finally spending the night together.

“Wait . . . I don’t need space. I’m sorry.”

“You do, Olivia. But I’ll be watching. And when you’re ready, I’ll be back.”

“Please stay.”

“Why would you want that if you think I’m a monster?”

I feel alive with you. I feel safer with you. I feel happier when you’re here.

My mouth parts, but I’m not ready to tell him yet. To accept how quickly these feelings have developed.

“I’ll be back when you have an answer for me.”

He leaves, this time through the front door. I hear the crunch of tires on the gravel road as I throw myself into the bed and weep as silently as the house I’m left alone in.

???

Austin hasn't lied when he said he would give me space—something I desperately want to avoid. I've looked for him everywhere. He doesn't turn up to Squeeze the Day on Monday or Wednesday. Now, it's Friday, and I'm heading to a fitness expo for the next three days.

He's left his number on a scrap of paper with a note saying “for emergencies.” Is telling him I'm sorry an emergency? Or that he's left me so unsatisfied that I've punished myself by not relieving the ache he's built in me the entire week?

As soon as the words came out of my mouth the last time we spoke, the regret hit me as hard as that medicine ball hit my shoulder. I roll it back, reminding myself of the pain.

Despite my willpower, I've left a note for him where he's left his. Informing him I'll be back on Monday and that if he needs me, I assume he'll know where to find me. It's a tease, a challenge of sorts. I have no doubt he knows exactly where I'm going and when. I think he'll expect me to come running back. Part of me wants to. The other part is wanting to give him what he's asked for. He said he could be patient...well, so can I.

The time apart has made me realize that I want to see where this goes. I want him here with me.

Scanning my phone for the airport staff, I walk through when the scanner dings.

“Oh, miss.” The impeccably dressed air steward turns to me. “I have a new seat for you if you don’t mind.”

“Oh, okay. Sure.” At least she isn’t saying there isn’t space on the flight.

“You’re in row one.” She smiles, her perfect white teeth glistening.

As soon as my butt hits the chair, I know it’s going to be a good day. No,gooddoesn’t cover it. The day is going to be spectacular.

I have the row to myself, not a soul to either side of me or behind me. Which means no one is behind me to kick my chair. When an opportunist decides to sit in the second row, he is met with a stern-faced air stewardess who informs him that if he does not return to his assigned seat, he will be arrested the moment the tires hit the ground.

I am offered champagne, chocolate-dipped strawberries, and a full meal.