Page 23

Chapter twenty-three

Elliot

I sat in the dim glow of the lamp, elbows on my knees, watching the slow rise and fall of Mike’s chest. He had fallen asleep almost immediately, his body slack, one arm draped over his stomach, the other curled near his head. His hair was still damp with sweat, red curls falling over his forehead. I resisted the urge to reach out and brush them back.

He looked so damn peaceful.

He looked vulnerable in a way I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen before, in a way I wasn’t even sure he would let himself be with someone—but he had, with me.

I exhaled, dragging a hand over my face.

What the hell were we doing?

I’d known from the moment I met him that Mike wasn’t the kind of guy who could do this—whatever this was—without it meaning something.

Honestly, I wasn’t so sure I could either.

I leaned back against the couch, staring at nothing, my chest tightening with something I didn’t want to name. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I was supposed to keep my distance, keep things easy. I had too much going on at work and with my friends to even entertain the idea of a man—or whatever—but there was nothing easy about the way I felt when Mike looked at me, nothing simple about the way my pulse stuttered when he smiled like I was someone worth knowing.

And now I had to leave.

I clenched my jaw at the thought. The storm was rolling in, and once I drove out, I wouldn’t be back for weeks, maybe months. Would he wait for me? Would he still want this when I got back?

I didn’t even know what I was asking of him.

Hell, we hadn’t known each other long enough to fret over . . . over whatever this was.

I sucked at this.

At staying.

At wanting more than the moment right in front of me.

But as I sat there, listening to the quiet sound of his breathing, something in me curled tight. The thought of coming back to nothing—of coming back and finding this had slipped through my fingers, finding that Mike had slipped by—made my stomach twist in a way I wasn’t ready to face.

I looked at him again, taking in the soft curve of his mouth, the way his fingers twitched in sleep.

I wasn’t sure if I deserved any of this, if I deserved him.

But for the first time in a long time, I wanted to try.

Mike stirred, shifting against the couch with a small, sleepy sound before his eyes fluttered open. He blinked up at me, a little dazed, before stretching his arms over his head. We were both still naked. His eyes dropped from my face to explore the rest of me.

“How long was I out?” His voice was rough with sleep, and something about that sent a shiver down my spine.

I glanced at the clock on the wall. “Not long. Maybe half an hour.”

“El, that was . . . incredible.”

I grinned. “You were incredible. Took me like a champ.”

“I already told you I’m the Champion of the Universe.”

I snorted and slapped him playfully on the leg.

An awkward moment passed, neither of us speaking or looking at the other.

He hummed and rubbed a hand over his face before looking at me properly. “You okay?”

I almost scoffed, but the way he asked it—quiet, like he already knew my mind was spinning—made me hesitate.

“Yeah,” I said after a beat. “Just thinking.”

Mike studied me, his brows drawing together. He was still half asleep, but that sharpness in him never really faded. “About?”

I let out a slow breath and leaned back, resting my head against the couch while rubbing his leg. I loved how his fur-covered skin felt against my fingers. “Mike, I’m leaving in a few days, maybe as early as tomorrow. The storm’s coming in fast.”

Something flickered across his face, too quick for me to catch.

He sat up a little, bracing an arm against the back of the couch. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Silence stretched between us.

A car’s engine roared as it passed by.

A pair of birds chittered in the tree just outside the window.

I should’ve left it at that, should’ve let the conversation drift into something easier, but the words were pressing against my ribs, and for once, I didn’t want to swallow them down.

“Will you wait?” I asked before I could stop myself. My voice came out quieter than I intended, rough around the edges. Fuck, I hated this stuff, having feelings, having to talk about them. It was so much easier joking and teasing and not really giving a shit.

Mike’s eyes widened slightly, and then, just as quickly, his expression softened. “You won’t be gone more than a few weeks or so. Of course, I will, silly.”

Relief hit me like a wave crashing against a beach, hard and unexpected. I looked away, feeling something in my chest loosen.

Mike shifted closer, his hand gripping my arm. “You thought I wouldn’t?”

I let out a sharp breath, shaking my head. “I’m not sure what I thought.”

He was quiet for a moment.

Then his hand found mine, his fingers curling around my wrist.

Not tight. Not demanding. Just there.

“Come back to me, El.” His voice was steady, certain. “Whenever you can.”

I swallowed hard, nodding once, then reached down and pushed curls off his forehead.

“I will.”

And for the first time in a long time, I knew I actually meant it.