Chapter 30

Cheyenne

I saton the edge of the bed as I waited for my travel agent to find me a flight home, but it was hard to concentrate.

What had just happened?

Why was Ivan behaving so strangely?

If I'd done something, why wouldn't he just tell me? We'd been fine until this morning. It was like a totally different man had come home from his run. I'd never seen this cold, distant version of him and I couldn't help but wonder what was going on. It just wasn't like him.

"Chey? The only flight I can get you on leaves at two thirty. Do you want me to book it?"

I hesitated.

"I don't know," I admitted, watching as Ivan disappeared into the bathroom. "I'm not sure what I'm doing." I felt like crying but I couldn't do that in front of my travel agent. "Is it possible to hold it for an hour while I figure some things out? There's, uh, a family member in the hospital."

"Of course. Just let me know."

I disconnected and absently pulled jeans, a long-sleeve Henley, socks, and underwear out of my suitcase, putting them on the bed.

Was I really supposed to just get dressed and go to the airport? Leaving Ivan and essentially everything between us behind?

How had we gotten to this point?

Had I scared him when I'd told him we needed to talk?

Was this some sort of pro-active, knee-jerk reaction to what he thought I wanted to talk about?

If he thought I was going to break up with him anyway, maybe he was just beating me to the punch?

None of it made sense and I was suddenly furious.

I pulled out my phone and texted Harper.

CHEY: Ivan just broke up with me.

HARPER: What?! What happened?

CHEY: I have no idea. I woke up and he'd gone for a run. When he came back, he said I was a distraction, that he needed to focus on his mom, and since we were just casual anyway, he thought it was best I go home. And get this: He said he'd call me in a few weeks. What the fuck?!

HARPER: That doesn't sound like Ivan at all. Did you argue?

CHEY: No. The only thing I can think of is that I told him we needed to have a talk, like a heart-to-heart about our relationship. He agreed, but obviously, in the middle of all this stuff with his mom, we decided it wasn't the right time. And this morning, BOOM.

HARPER: Did you let him think you were going to end it?

CHEY: I didn't think so, but maybe? I was planning to tell him how I feel about him. Now I don't know what to do. He's in the shower and I'm pretty sure if I leave, I'll never see him again.

HARPER: Look, you know I love you, but you've been on this anti-serious relationship kick as long as I've known you and it gets a little old. I know why you feel that way, but we both know it's bullshit. It's how you protect yourself from all the assholes in your life who want something from you. But that's not Ivan.

Well, that stung a little.

Mostly because it was true.

Ivan was the one guy who'd never asked me for anything.

That was partly why I'd fallen so hard and so fast.

CHEY: But that's just it—I know that. I'm in love with him. That's what I wanted to talk about.

HARPER: Have you been open about your whole retirement plan thing? Because if so, he probably assumes the writing's on the wall. He's already reeling from this situation with his mom, and the thought of you breaking up with him on top of it is more than he can take right now. According to Gabe, he's head over heels for you.

CHEY: He is? He said that?

HARPER: I don't know exactly what words were used in their private conversations, but yes, he's totally into you. I mean, didn't he talk to you about buying a house together?

CHEY: No! He asked me what I thought of HIM buying a house. He never asked me if I wanted to buy it with him, or even live with him. Fuck. I knew things got a little weird after that conversation, but I didn't think it was appropriate for me to say, hey, let's buy it together!

HARPER: Exactly. Because you're wearing retirement-plan-colored glasses. It's nothing but a smoke screen and you need to sort that shit out in your head, because you're right, you're going to lose the best thing that's ever happened to you if you don't do something to fix it right now.

CHEY: I don't want to lose him. What do I do? Should I come home and give him time to cool off?

HARPER: Is that what you want?

CHEY: No. I want to fight for him. For us. I told you—I'm in love with him.

HARPER: Then stop wasting time with me and go get him.

Was that that right move? Probably. It also seemed to be the only move.

CHEY: I will. Thanks!

I was about to put my phone away when a text from Stevie popped up.

STEVIE: Please please please call me. Everything is a disaster. I really need you, Chey. I don't have anyone else.

I sighed guiltily, but I didn't have time for this right now. Ivan and I had to have a conversation before I would go anywhere, so I'd just stuffed my phone in my purse when he came out of the bathroom.

He looked as gorgeous as ever, his hair damp from the shower, and a couple of days' worth of scruff on his face. He had on tight jeans that showed off his enormous thighs, and a long-sleeved T-shirt that made his biceps look huge.

Ivan Rochenko was truly the most beautiful man on earth, even now, with his blue eyes shrouded, as if he were expecting a fight.

Well, he was right to be wary because that was exactly what he was going to get.

There was no way in hell I was letting him go without one.

"Did you get a flight?" he asked slowly.

"Yeah, but we have to talk," I said, getting to my feet.

He sighed. "Chey, I already?—"

"No. Shut up. You've had your say. Now I'm going to have mine." I moved closer to him, a little intimidated by the fact that I was still in my pajamas and bare feet, while he was dressed for the day. I was stronger than that, though, and anyway, I wasn't afraid of him. Ivan would never hurt me, even though he was certainly capable.

"When I told you we needed to talk last night, I was going to ask you where we stood, because I was getting a lot of mixed signals."

"You were getting mixed signals?" he asked, knitting his brows together.

"Yes. You asked me whether you should buy a house, but you never asked me if I wanted to live with you or buy it with you. Then you turned around and told me I should keep clothes at your place. You brought me here to Buffalo with you, but you introduced me as Cheyenne. Not ‘my girlfriend, Chey,' but just Cheyenne. And I don't fucking get it. I know we initially said we should keep things casual, but you have to know we've moved beyond that."

"Have we?" There was a wariness in his eyes I'd never seen before, and it was starting to piss me off.

"Yes, we have. And if I've done something wrong, or I made some kind of mistake, or I upset you, why won't you just tell me what it is instead of kicking me to the curb? I think I deserve better than that. At the very least an honest fucking conversation."

He stared at me.

For a long time.

Well, it was probably more like five or ten seconds, but it felt like a hundred years. My heart was hammering against my ribs, and I was a bit nauseated, but I wasn't going to back down until I had answers. And the truth. If he didn't love me back, I could live with that. I'd be hurt, but at least I'd know.

"I heard you," he said finally.

"Heard me what?" I asked in confusion.

"Talking to Stevie."

"When?" I asked just as it dawned on me.

I'd been talking to her right before he came back from his run.

Oh, shit.

"Oh, fuck. Ivan, that was… I didn't mean…" I shook my head, trying to gather my thoughts. "I was lying to Stevie because she's been begging me to come to New York. She and Damien are fighting, as usual, and I think she wants me to help her leave him, but there's drama in their relationship every day. There was no way in hell I was going to leave you to go play mediator for them, especially when she'll probably turn around and go back to him after she's had time to cool off. I sort of threw you under the bus, but I didn't mean it. God, Ivan. I'm so sorry you heard that."

He didn't say anything, just continued to stare at me.

"Ivan." I took another step closer, so my chest was a fraction of an inch from his. "I love you. I'm in love with you. I don't believe anything like what I said, and I would ordinarily never play games like that, but she's been super needy the last two days, and I hoped by making you out to be clingy and needy too, it would resonate because that's how Damien is. It was stupid and immature, but I swear to you, I didn't mean it. I was being a frustrated and shitty friend by lying to her, but you know how she's been lately."

His jaw tightened and he roughly put one hand around the back of my neck, staring down at me intently as he tugged me up against him.

"Say it again," he growled.

"Say what?" I asked in confusion. "That I'm sorry?"

"No, not that. The other thing."

I hesitated.

If he wanted to hear me tell him I loved him, I would say it as many times as necessary until he believed it.

"I love you. I'm in love with you. I think I have been since the first time you touched me."

"You've told me how you don't want to settle down until you're thirty, more times than I can count. What was I supposed to think?" he asked, his voice deep and raspy.

"I know. I'm sorry. I just thought…with everything we've shared, how close we've gotten, and how far out of my way I've gone to spend time with you, that you could tell how I feel about you."

"What about your retirement plan?"

"The retirement plan in general doesn't change," I whispered. "The only thing that's different is that I want us to be together while I'm executing it. I'm not going to retire yet, and I'm not ready for kids, so that's something you have to—" He cut me off, crashing his mouth to mine and kissing me like a desperate man. His tongue found mine almost angrily, swirling against it with gruff, passionate strokes that immediately had me worked up.

He backed me against the bed until the backs of my legs brushed up against the mattress, and then he pushed me down, landing on top of me.

"You're okay with a relationship," he said, sliding a hand under my pajama top. "You're just not ready to retire."

"Y-yes!" I let out a squeak at the end as he pinched my nipple.

"You're not ready for kids, but you're okay with living together and potentially getting married?" One hand traveled south, yanking on my pajama bottoms and panties.

"With you?" I lifted my hips so he could get my bottoms off more easily. "Absolutely."

"You were driving me nuts," he growled, reaching down to unzip his jeans. "All your talk about not being interested in relationships, and then you'd fly halfway across the country to see me for two days. You gave me a weird, completely generic response when I asked about buying a house, and then acted so surprised when I asked you to leave clothes at my place."

I reached down and wrapped my hand around his cock.

"I love you," I whispered. "But I was scared."

"I'm scared too. Every time I look at you, I wonder if you're mine or not and I couldn't take it."

"Oh, babe, I'm so yours it's terrifying. I can't even look at another man." I reached up to put my hands on either side of his face. "I love you, Ivan. Make love to me."

He wasn't even fully undressed, but without another word he positioned himself between my legs and pushed into me with one smooth thrust.