I’m not his to worry about anymore.
“All right.” He cups my face in his hand. It smells like me.Hesmells like me, and my heart twists hard. “If you need to get away from the Minelli madness, hit me up. I’ll be around.”
I don’t lean into his touch.
But I don’t pull away, either. “Who are you staying with?”
“I’ll probably couch surf.”
He has five cousins in Pine Harbour. They’re all older than us, and married, but Kincaids tend to have open door policies because they had to raise each other. Not having any living parents involved changes how they celebrate the holidays.
My family makes a Big Fucking Deal about Christmas.
The Kincaids—all of them first responders—often volunteer to work over the holidays so other families can be together.
“Then we probably wouldn’t be able to meet up in secret, so…”
“We did all right in my truck in September.” He drops his hand but doesn’t step away. His eyes are full of questions.
“Yeah, that was hot.”
“We didn’t even have time to fight.” He clears his throat. “I’ve got a theory that we do best in ninety-minute chunks of time.”
I laugh weakly. “Oh, yeah?”
He shrugs. “Although I’d convinced myself you decided zero minutes was even better than an hour and a half.”
Because I managed not to text him in November. “Ah. Well… I don’t always make good choices. Not that this wasn’t a good choice. It was… festive.”
“Festive.” He says it flat.
“Very festive.”
He pokes his tongue in his cheek. “Mm.”
“Anyway…” That’s enough talking probably.
Garrett clearly doesn’t agree. “Why’d you go radio silent?”
I make a face. How do I explain that there’s a fine line between having a bad day and wanting a distraction—his dick—and…whatever permanent version of Stressville I’m finding myself in this fall?
But I don’t need to, because he guesses.
He frowns. “How often are you sleeping at the hospital?”
And right on cue, my pager goes off.
Seeing Garrett’s face shut down because I’m pulled into work is all the reminder I need that I’m not right for him, so it doesn’t matter how much I miss him in my bed—weareonly good together for ninety-minute increments. And that’s no way to try to maintain a relationship, let alone build a marriage.
“Sorry,” I mutter.
“Don’t be.” He sighs. “I know the drill. Go do your thing. And I’ll see you soon. Or not.”
“Maybe in the new year,” I manage to say before quickly glancing at my pager.
By the time I look up, the door is swinging shut, and Garrett is gone.
Chapter 6
