Chapter 29

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Troy

After cleaning up, I find Anna curled under the blankets on her bed, looking smaller and frailer than normal. I know why. It doesn't take a rocket scientist or a psychic to figure it out. And I can tell she's fighting the sadness that's tugging at her.

Finally, unable to bear it anymore, I have to say something. I can't hold it in anymore, despite her request at dinner to treat this like every other night. I've thought about raising this idea more than once, but always put it off, not wanting to risk our growing connection. If I brought it up too soon, it might scare her off. Or at least that was my main fear. But now there's no more time.

And what if she likes the idea? It could change everything.

"This doesn't have to be the end." Though my voice is quiet, the words seem to hit her like a gunshot.

She sits up, clutching the blanket to her chest with one hand, as though I didn't have my hands and mouth covering every inch of her skin mere minutes ago. Slowly, she pulls herself around to face me fully, and I imagine she's sitting cross-legged, though I can't see her legs with the blanket covering them. Her brows pull together, her eyes squinting like she's trying to see the catch in my words. "Are you not—" The words come out croaky, a little squeaky, and she stops to clear her throat. "Aren't you leaving tomorrow?" There's a deadly level of control in her voice, the kind of control a person only uses when they're on the verge of shattering completely.

This is why she didn't want to talk about tomorrow. She's so close to falling to pieces, and she didn't want me to witness it. Or she didn't want to ruin tonight. Or maybe a little bit of both.

"I am," I answer gravely, my arms crossing over my bare chest. I want to go sit on the bed with her, to tug the blankets away and wrap her in my arms, but I'm not convinced that's the right move. She might just fall apart in my arms then. Right now she's listening, and I want her to listen, because she might see that she doesn't need to fall apart. That tonight doesn't have to be devastating or final or however she's built it up in her head.

"But I'm retired," I continue. "And even if I weren't, it's the off-season, so I don't have any real commitments back home." I study her, clearing my throat, hoping that the penny will drop. It doesn't, though, so I spell it out. "I have nothing to return to. Just an empty apartment I grew to resent after being forced to spend time locked away there while rehabbing the many injuries that led to my retirement. I don't really want to go home. Not when …" Her eyebrows lift, her breath catching halfway between a sob and a sigh. "Not when everything I want is right here," I finish, barely louder than a whisper.

"It is?" She sounds confused like my words don't make sense, and I let out a small chuckle before I can stop myself.

"Yes," I confirm, louder, more confidently. "I know we haven't known each other long, and I'm not saying that we should move in together or anything."

"What are you saying?"

I take a deep breath, blowing it out slowly as I sort out exactly what I want to say. It's been rattling around in my head all night—all week, actually—so many different versions of what to say and how to say it, though of course none of them came out quite like this. But it all boils down to one thing. "I want to give this a chance. I want to give us a chance. A real one, not just a vacation fling." Pausing, I rub a hand over my face, scratching my chin. "I don't have the best track record for relationships, I'll admit, but I think …" I shake my head. "I think I just haven't found the right person before. And it's hard when you're gone more than you're home. That's all different now, though. I can be around. I can be here. I can find a place to rent and stay. With you. As long as you want me."

With her brows still crimped together, she looks around the room like it holds the answers to some great mystery, though I'm not sure what's so mysterious. I replay what I just said in my mind, and yeah, I was clear. I don't know how else to make it more clear. So I keep my mouth shut and give her time to process because clearly she wasn't expecting me to say anything resembling, I want to be with you, so I just won't leave if that sounds good to you.

"But, I—" She shakes her head, taking a deep breath and starting over, finally bringing her eyes to mine again. "Why?"

I stretch out a hand trying to convey how I'm feeling with the gesture, but it doesn't work. "Because? I like you, Anna. A lot. I … well, I guess I thought the feeling was pretty mutual." Hands on my hips, I'm suddenly painfully conscious of the fact that I'm still naked, but I feel like if I started searching for clothes—or at least my underwear—it would pop the little bubble we're in where this could still somehow work out the way I want. The way I thought we'd both want. She hasn't said anything about wishing I could stay longer, but the way she wanted to spend time with me, like we were smashing a whole relationship into a week and a half or so, I thought …

"Unless …" I clear my throat, trying to work past the clog that's formed now that it's occurred to me that maybe this was all she wanted. She's hinted at a shitty ex and escaping here to get away from that life and all its painful memories. She's mentioned feeling the need to hide away. Maybe she's not ready for a real relationship. "I mean …" I scrub my hand over my face again, my eyes closed. "I don't have to stay. If that's not what you want. I could go home." That thought leaves a terrible taste in my mouth, but that was the original plan, after all. "We could keep in touch. Do the long-distance thing if you prefer. Or …" I leave that hanging, not wanting to voice the third option—ending this now. Saying goodbye and leaving and never seeing her again.

I hear the rustling of blankets, and when I open my eyes, Anna's climbing off the bed, crossing the space separating us. She lays her hand on my chest, shaking her head. "No. No, or. I mean"—she looks down, chews on her lower lip for a second, then shakes her head—"I assumed that the last option was the only one available to me. I didn't …" Another shake of her head. "I never expected you to want to stay," she whispers. "That didn't even occur to me."

Tipping her chin up so she'll look at me, I search her eyes. "Would you want me to? Stay?"

She sucks in a breath, her chin dipping in a tiny nod. "Yes." She breathes the word, then drops her hand from my chest and turns her face away. "It's just …" I wait, giving her time to find the right words. She shakes her head again. "I worry," she confesses at last.

"About what?" I ask just as quietly.

She glances at me and shakes her head again. "That you'll get bored? Or resentful?" She steps away and waves her arms around. "Or … I dunno! I just … I'm scared." Her arms drop, and she looks at me again. "I was prepared for you to leave me now. If you stay …" She shakes her head. "Will you still like me in another week? A month? A year? What will you do while I'm at work? Will you get bored? When will my weird little quirks start to get on your nerves? How long before my need to keep things organized irritates you or you get annoyed that I'm knitting while we watch a movie instead of snuggling?" My lips tip up in an involuntary grin, and she scowls. "I'm serious!"

"I know." I hold up a hand, part halting the diatribe she's working up to and part soothing gesture. Then I hold out my hand to her, palm up, a gesture of invitation. She looks at it for a moment, her face so full of skepticism that it hurts, but I know this isn't really about me right now.

At last, she places her hand in mine and allows me to draw her close. Wrapping my arms around her, I rest my cheek on top of her head. "I like you, Anna," I whisper. "A lot. More than I thought possible, especially considering how long we've known each other. I like your quirks. I like that you knit, and I'd love nothing more than to watch movies with you while you knit things. I like that you read widely and talk about the things you learn. I like that you're organized and clean as a form of stress relief."

She snorts. "Of course. You'd benefit from that one. But you might get annoyed with it eventually. You might want me to change."

Her voice sounds so small on those last words that my heart squeezes. Setting her away from me so she can see my face, I shake my head. "No, Anna. Never. I'd never want you to change. You're perfect just as you are. You're funny and smart and kind and beautiful. Who'd want to change that?"

Her eyes dart to the side like she has an answer to that question but presses her lips together to keep it from coming out. And I know. I know exactly who she means, even if I don't know his name.

"Only an asshole would want to do that to you," I say, my voice vibrating with tightly controlled anger. I want to find her asshole ex and pound his face. Get him out on the ice and turn him over to Dozer for a good and proper beating.

Sucking in a deep breath, I stop that train of thought, because as much as it sounds satisfying, that won't help anything now. And it won't undo the damage he's done to this gorgeous woman.

"I know it's too soon to say this, but I think …" I swallow hard, not sure this is the right play, but I'm laying myself bare right now, and I can't stop myself. "I'm falling in love with you. I don't want to leave you because the thought of only seeing you occasionally or worse, ending things altogether just because my planned vacation to kick off my retirement and give myself space is over, kills me. I don't want either of those options. If you do, I'll find a way to live with it. But I can't leave without telling you what I want and how I feel."

Twin tears track down her cheeks, her lips parted in surprise. "Oh, Troy," she whispers, her hand cupping my cheek. Then she kisses me. And I'm not entirely sure what she's trying to communicate with that, but I can't think it's a goodbye. I won't let myself. So I wrap her in my arms and take over the kiss, making love to her mouth with mine, hoping to erase any remaining doubts she might have.

"Yes," she says when she ends the kiss. "Yes. Stay. I …" She swallows hard. "I'm not ready to say it yet, but I can see the possibility. You're amazing and kind and thoughtful and everything I never thought I'd be able to find in a partner. I'm just …"

"I get it," I reassure her. "I understand."

She nods, looking relieved. "Stay here tonight. And if you need to go home tomorrow to get things sorted for being away longer?—"

I cut her off with a kiss. "I'll start looking for a place here tomorrow. As much as I like the cabin, I don't need that much room. I'll find something closer to town." Despite it being the height of tourism season here, I'm confident I'll be able to find something. And if the first place I find isn't ideal, I'll book it until I find somewhere better. The important thing is, I'm staying. This isn't ending.

Anna wants me as much as I want her.

Relief fills me, and I lead her back to bed, wrapping myself around her under the blankets with a contented sigh. Yes, there are still logistics to figure out, but as far as I'm concerned, I have everything I need right now.