Then he steps back.
And all I feel is cold.
Chapter Thirteen
David
I’ve kissed a lot of women.
Backstage.
After parties.
In hotel rooms with city lights bleeding through floor-to-ceiling glass.
I have never been wrecked by one.
Until now.
I walk out of The Book Shop like a man who just stepped into traffic and somehow survived.
The bell above the door jingles behind me, and the cool air hits my face, but it does nothing to settle what’s happening inside my chest.
My heart is pounding.
Not lust.
Not ego.
Not conquest.
Something else.
Something deeper.
She tasted like coffee and sugar, and stubbornness.
Like sunlight trapped in a small-town bookstore.
And when she said I’m not a backup plan?
That wasn’t a warning.
It was a line in the sand.
I drag a hand down my face and head straight for Nate’s place.
Because if I don’t talk this out with someone, I’m going to do something reckless.
Like stay.
Like give up the Rugby Cup deal.
Like—fuck.
No, I don’t know what I’m going to do.
That’s the problem.