Don't Speak (A Modern Fairytale, #5)(46)

Hmm. Maybe it’s just nerves about being alone together.

Last Sunday, even though they’d managed to find a private moment during the rainstorm at the gardens, they’d actually been in public the entire time. Maybe she wasn’t entirely comfortable going to his empty house with him.

“Laire,” he said, looking up at the sign that welcomed them to Buxton as they zoomed past, “I’d never pressure you to do somethin’ you didn’t want to do. You know that, right?”

“Of course,” she said, turning to look at him, her eyes wide and trusting.

Hmm. Maybe she’s worried about getting caught.

“I promise my family isn’t there. They’re all in Raleigh.”

“Yes. That’s what you said.”

Huh. What’s going on with her?

“I missed you somethin’ awful, darlin’.”

“I missed you too.”

“I’m not plannin’ to leave again,” he said quickly.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean I’m stayin’ put, here on the Banks, until the end of the summer.”

“Oh,” she murmured, her shoulders slumping as she turned away from him.

God damn it. He wasn’t good at this. Never had been. He didn’t know how to read a woman’s mind, for heaven’s sake. If she was upset about something, she was going to have to go ahead and tell him.

He pulled into his driveway, cut the engine, and faced her. “Spit it out.”

“Spit what out?”

“Why’re you so upset?”

She took a breath and opened her mouth like she was about to say something, then closed it with a loud sigh.

Obviously there was something on her mind.

“Laire? You’re killin’ me. Please just tell me what’s goin’ on in your head.”

She pivoted her whole body in the seat to face him, and she was so fucking beautiful in the moonlight, he trembled, forcing himself not to reach for her until she’d told him what was wrong and he’d had a chance to clear it up.

“You hated being away from me,” she said, as though confirming it.

He nodded. “Yeah, I did, Freckles. A hundred percent. It sucked.”

“For me too,” she whispered. “But at the end of the summer, you’re leaving, Erik. For a lot longer than five days.”

“End of the summer’s not for weeks yet.”

“Five weeks. That’s nothing! That’s less than nothing! It’ll slip by in the blink of an eye.”

“But it’s five weeks together! It’s five weeks of kissin’ and huggin’ and talkin’ and . . . Laire, it’s not nothin’. It’s everythin’!”

“But at the end, you leave,” she said softly, and for the first time, he noticed the tears brimming in her eyes.

He reached for her cheek, cupping it gently. “I do. I have to go back to college.”

She pulled away from his touch for the first time he could remember, and it hurt.

“And how far away is Duke from Hatteras?” she asked.

“Five hours. Maybe six,” he said softly.

“And that’s for a person who actually has a car!” she exclaimed. “Which I do not.”

“I do,” he said, but he heard the uncertainty in his own voice. The truth was, he hadn’t really thought about what came next. He’d been living in the moment and enjoying the here and now way too much.

“Oh. And I’m so sure that once you’re back at your fancy school, you’re going to want to drop everything and come visit your summer fling on the Outer Banks.” She took a ragged breath, looking away from him as she swiped at her tears.

“Summer fling!” he yelled.

Fuck, no! She is so much more than that to me!

He opened his car door and walked around to her side, swinging open her door and offering her his hand which she, thank God, took, allowing him to help her out of the car. Pushing the door closed with his foot, he pulled her into his arms, sighing with relief to finally feel her pressed against his body, where she fucking belonged.

“You are not a fling to me,” he whispered passionately in her ear. “Not even close. I’ve never . . . I’ve never felt this way about anyone.”

“Erik,” she sobbed.

He held her as close as he could. “Laire, darlin’, please don’t cry.”

She rested her cheek on his shoulder. “It hurts to fall in love with someone. It hurts awful.”

“Fuck,” he whispered. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“But where does this go?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “But we still have five weeks to figure it out.”

“Either way,” she said, sniffling softly near his ear. “I stay here and you leave.”

“Wait a second,” he said, leaning away from her. “Our rules, remember?”

She nodded, looking up at him.

“So maybe I come back once a month. And maybe you work up the courage to tell your father we’re datin’ and you come spend a weekend with me at Duke.”

“No, I can’t!”

“You can, Laire,” he said, putting an edge in his voice. “You’re eighteen. You’re an adult. He can’t tell you what to do.”