I was the one who’d driven all the way across the country and showed up on his doorstep to restart my life. And, honestly, that had been deeply unfair of me. Because I knew how he felt, or, rather, didn’t feel, and I’d taken advantage of his probably-didn’t-mean-it-but-was-too-polite-to-take-it-back generosity.
I sat up, then pulled my laptop over and opened it up to start looking for the jobs site at the Shawano Police Department. Because what I’d said to Noah was accurate—Ineededto do this. I needed to get my own feet under me, and I needed to prove to myself that I could be an independent adult.
First step, job.
Second step…
I didn’t want to think too hard about the second step, because it was going to hurt. Because the thing about standing on your own is that you have to do it… on your own.
I was going to have to move out of Elliot’s house.
And I was going to have to tell him the truth.
Which probably meant that I was going to have to move out of his life, because that wasn’t at all what he wanted. Andthatwasn’t at all what I wanted—I wanted to stay in this amazing house with Elliot. But then I’d never stand on my own two—or four—feet. I wouldn’t know that Icouldbe an independent adult and that I was choosing a relationship because I wanted it, not because it was the next available thing. I wouldn’t be telling the truth, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned from a succession of shitty relationships, it’s that truth matters. So I was going to get a job and admit to the man I was falling in love with that I wasfalling in love with him, and it was going to goterribly, and I was then probably going to have to find an apartment and build a totally new life without him in it.
Halfway across the country from everyone else I knew.
I’m normally a look-three-times-before-I-leap kind of guy. But I’d leapt off this cliff without even bothering to see if ithada bottom, much less whether that bottom was covered in feathers and pillows, water, rocks, or poison-tipped spears.
Either way, it was a long way down and hitting the ground was going to suck.
Elliot pickedup both of the empty glass pie plates, then grinned at me. “I think I’m going to enjoy learning about southern cooking,” he said.
I rolled my eyes, but I was pleased—I just didn’t want him to know that. At least nothowpleased I was. “There’s notthatmuch to learn,” I mumbled. Besides, if last night’s dinner was any indication, Elliot was already a plenty-good cook, and about all he’d need to ‘learn’ were combinations of ingredients.
“I like tomatoes and all,” Elliot continued, crossing from the kitchen island where we ate to the sink to start washing the dishes, “but this was really good.”
I picked up my plate and glass and brought them over. “They’re not Hanovers,” I replied, “so it’s not quite the same, but your garden has tomatoes that are almost as good—and that’s quite a compliment.”
He laughed. “Is it? Because it sounds like you just insulted my tomatoes.”
“If you’d ever had Hanovers, you know it wasn’t an insult,” I replied, grabbing a towel to dry the first pie plate as Elliot set it—clean—in the rack.
“So what you’re telling me is that I have to go back to Richmond during tomato season?”
“I mean, you probably should,” I told him. “Watermelon, canary melons, and Hanovers? Early summer is pretty great in Virginia.”
“Just not when it’s hot as Satan’s ballsack?”
I snorted. “Is that what Hart told you?”
“How did you know?” His hazel eyes danced with amusement.
“Lucky guess,” I snarked back. The phrase ‘Satan’s ballsack’ was so obviously a Hart-ism.
Elliot grinned, then handed me the second pie plate. “He really does have a way with words, doesn’t he?”
“There’s nobody quite like Hart,” I agreed, putting the dry pie plates back where I’d found them.
I was not expecting the hands that settled on my sides, warm through the fabric of my t-shirt. I sucked in a breath, my heart rate speeding up and tingles rushing over my skin. I wanted more of his hands in more places. I wanted them on my skin, rough and hot—although they felt less hot than I remembered.
Because now I was a shifter, too.
I hadn’t forgotten—that was impossible—but it was one more reminder that things were different. ThatIwas different.
I still wanted what Elliot was offering.
I leaned back into his hands, the motion accepting the invitation.
