The Crush (67)

When he didn’t answer immediately, I knew he wasn’t oblivious to the deep root of my question. Maybe he didn’t know about the thousand pounds of pressure on my chest or the tightening of my throat, but he was aware enough to hear the tenuous thread in my voice.

“Will you look at me?” he said quietly.

I pinched my eyes shut. No. I didn’t want to look at him. I was terrified of the way he would be looking at me, and somewhere, deep down, I knew this was coming from the moment he led me out onto the dance floor.

It was that foundation shifting that I’d felt, and we’d never managed to fix it or address that it happened at all.

Slowly, I sat up, turning my back to the masterpiece in the sky.

His eyes were wary, and I couldn’t blame him. He drew a thumb over the furrow in my brow. “Tell me what’s happening up here?”

“I-I’m freaking out a little bit,” I admitted. My fingers knotted together, a tight grip to keep them from shaking.

“Okay,” he said. “Because it feels … big, right?”

I nodded, my eyes filling immediately.

“The biggest,” I whispered.

“Adaline.” He cupped my face. “We can do this.”

I exhaled a tremulous laugh. “It’s not that simple.”

“Yes, it is,” he said with complete confidence. “We can talk every day. FaceTime and chat and I don’t care if I have to buy a fucking plane to be able to see you every week.”

My stomach trembled. “Emmett, stop,” I said. “I can’t leave right now.”

“I know.” He coasted his hands up my arms. “And I know Nick made you feel like you couldn’t have your life and his. But I’m not going to ask you to sacrifice the things that are important to you.”

I shook my head. “This isn’t about Nick.”

“It was at first,” he said. “Don’t tell me it wasn’t.”

“At first, yes.” I let out a slow breath, trying to quell the rising panic. “I’d only been single for six weeks then, Emmett. The thought of diving right back into that life did not appeal to me, and I think you can understand why.”

“I did. I do,” he amended. “But you and I are different. We can do this.”

I was off the couch before I realized it. “No, we can’t.”

His jaw clenched, Emmett’s immediate tell that he wasn’t sure how to proceed.

“I know what your life is like,” I said. “I’ve lived it, and this isn’t about Nick. Sometimes your priorities don’t line up with what someone else wants or feels. Hell, what I want or feel. And you, of all people, should understand that. You felt like you needed to make a choice once too.”

He slicked his tongue over his teeth and regarded me cautiously. “Because five years ago, I didn’t guess we’d end up here? You said you didn’t hold that against me.”

“I don’t.”

“And you’re not feeling exactly what I’m feeling?” he asked, a challenging set to his jaw.

There.

Something flamed behind his eyes. Frustration.

“This isn’t going to help,” I said quietly.

“You’re not answering the question.” He cupped my face. His hands were big and warm against my cheeks. My eyes fluttered shut at the way he touched my skin. His voice deepened, rough with emotion. “Tell me you’re not feeling what I am right now, Adaline, and I will walk away.”

He meant it. It wasn’t an ultimatum, though. He was giving me an opening.

I didn’t want him to walk away. But I couldn’t see a way around all the obstacles. He had two years left in Ft. Lauderdale, minimum. Not once had he ever told me he’d leave.

Giving him shreds and snippets of my time, being able to get even less than shreds and snippets of his, facing down the reality of frustration and disappointment and it never being enough … it sounded like hell.

What we were together was nothing I’d ever felt. Didn’t know it existed. And that sort of half-relationship with those big, big feelings? I didn’t see it playing out well.

But I wouldn’t lie to him.

“It is not always that simple, Emmett,” I told him.

“It is.”

Unfair words clawed at my throat, and I choked them down.

That he’d never been in a serious relationship, so how could he possibly know.

That he’d never been in a position not to get something he wanted, and it was showing.

But nothing would be gained by saying them. It would only wound him, and I didn’t want to do that any more than I already was.

“I know that in two weeks, you’re going to settle in for another season, and I cannot be there with you.” I sucked in a deep breath. A sob lodged in my throat as I said it, and the words almost couldn’t get past it. “I cannot give you what you want right now.”

That was what terrified me most.

I wanted to.

I wanted to hop on a plane with him and forget everything. Forget anything else existed except us.

“People make long-distance work all the time,” he said. His voice was calm, but his eyes were raging with some unspoken emotion. “I know you have a lot on your plate, but we can do this. I will fly you to me whenever you want. I don’t care if it’s one night.”