Down and Dirty (Hot Jocks #5)(42)

“It really is a beautiful city,” I whisper, soaking it all in. It’s not often that I get to see Seattle from this high up.

Landon wraps his arms around my waist from behind, pulling me close enough to rest his chin on top of my head. “Just wait till the fall when all the leaves are changing colors.”

And just like that, one little mention of the future turns my stomach into a ball of lead. He doesn’t know it yet, but I won’t even be in this country come fall. He’ll be enjoying that view alone.

“I actually prefer summer,” I lie, desperate to change the subject. I pull his arms a little tighter around my waist, like a seat belt holding me back from crashing into the truth.

Landon welcomes the closeness, squeezing me tight. “Good thing we still have two months left then.”

My throat closes up, my lungs shriveling like old helium balloons. Holy shit. He knows. I stand there, frozen in his arms, too shocked to say a word.

Did my boss tell him? Or maybe he saw one of my emails from a potential landlord pop up on my phone. Shit, it doesn’t matter how he found out, only that he did find out. From someone other than me.

I break out of his grip, swiveling toward him, but I can’t even bring myself to look him in the eye. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

It’s quiet for a moment, and then, to my surprise, Landon laughs. “What, that summer is only three months long? Last I checked, you don’t control the calendar.”

Confused, I look up at him, trying to make sense of his crinkled features. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s June, which means we have two months left of summer. Maybe three, if we’re lucky and the weather cooperates. What are you talking about?”

I wish I could stop the flush creeping across my cheeks, but it’s too late. Even my ears are already redder than the sunset. Of course he was referring to summer ending. Why the hell would he be talking about anything else?

“Are you okay?” he asks, leading me over to take a seat on the couch.

I must look like I’m about to pass out or something, because he disappears to the kitchen and returns with a glass of water, which I sip slowly.

“What’s going on, Bree? You seem off. What did you think I already knew?”

My chest tightens as I stare down into the water glass, avoiding his gaze. This is it, Bree. You have to tell him. All I have to do is say four little words. “I’m moving to Vancouver.” Easy peasy.

But when I open my mouth, the words get lodged in my throat, blocking my air until I swallow them back down. Because telling him comes with a whole host of questions I don’t know the answers to.

What will happen to us? Would we even work long distance? It would certainly come with challenges, and we haven’t been together long enough for me to ask him to sacrifice like that. Are we even considered a couple other than on paper?

“I’m . . . just tired,” I finally manage to say. “I haven’t slept much the past few days. I should get going.”

He nods, dragging his thumb along my cheek before pressing a gentle kiss against my lips. “Stay the night.”

My breath halts in my chest. “What?”

“Stay the night with me,” he says again, tucking a loose strand of hair back into my messy bun, letting his fingers linger for a moment at the nape of my neck. “I’ve got an extra toothbrush, and I cleared out a drawer for you in my dresser.”

“I can’t.”

His forehead creases. “Why not?”

“I just can’t, Landon,” I mutter as I get up off the couch and lunge for my jacket. “I have to go home.” My stomach churns with guilt, but I need space. And fresh air. And to get out of here before I say something I’ll regret.

“Is it something I said?”

The hurt in his voice stops me in my tracks. I can’t stay, but I can’t leave him hurt and confused like this. I sigh, pivoting on my heel, and lock eyes with the most deflated, disappointed man I’ve ever seen. Just one look at him is enough to break a girl’s heart.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” I say. “I’m just . . . not ready.” It’s not much of an excuse, but it’s easier than the truth—that there’s no use playing house with him when my time here has an expiration date.

“If you won’t stay over, will you at least take your SUV? I can’t stand to stare at it another day.”

“Fine.” I hold one hand out, palm up. “Where are the keys?”

Pushing to his feet, he heads for the console table and digs the key fob out of the drawer. With a sad smile, he presses it into my palm, then curls my fingers around it, holding my closed fist in his hand.

“Drive safe, okay? Make sure to adjust the seat and mirrors.”

“I will,” I say on a shaky breath.

If only he knew that pretty soon, this city will be in my rearview mirror. And so will he.





16




* * *





First Timer





Landon



Our plane touched down in Dallas thirty minutes ago, and we’ve only just gotten our checked luggage when I get a text from the groom’s mother.

Can you pick up the vases from the florist?