Page 112 of Lose You Twice

He takes another step closer.

This time, he doesn’t stop as far away.

“I do want to fix it,” he says. “That’s the problem. I want to fix all of it. The job, the money, the car, the mornings where you don’t have enough hands. I want to make it easier for you, and I know you don’t want me to, and I know I don’t have that right anymore.”

My breath catches as he keeps going, voice rougher now.

“But watching you try to carry everything is making me lose my fucking mind.”

I feel his words everywhere. I also feel a strong wave of want from myself. I want to let him fix everything, but I can’t. I won’t.

It doesn’t stop the weak place under my ribs that has always belonged to him from squeezing.

“Kai,” I whisper.

“I know.” He drags a hand through his hair, frustrated with himself now. “I’m not saying this to make you feel bad or anything like that.”

“Then why are you saying it?”

His eyes meet mine. “Because I’m tired of lying to you.”

Oh.

Kai steps closer, then stops again, like his body is fighting itself with every inch and losing the battle.

“Tell me to go,” he says.

I should.

That would be the smart thing to do. The safe thing. The thing that keeps my job simple and my heart intact and out of whatever mess this becomes. The thing that remembers he’ll be leaving soon, remembers the three years of silence, remembers that wanting Kai Mercer has never once stayed small.

But I’m so tired of pretending I don’t want him.

“I can’t,” I say.

His eyes close for half a second.

When they open, there is no confusion left in them, only want.

He moves slowly, still giving me time to change my mind. His hand comes up to my face, his fingers gently moving a piece of hair behind my ear before he cups me gently.

“This is a bad idea,” I say, mostly to myself.

His thumb brushes my cheek. “Maybe a little.”

He’s close enough now that I can see the small cut near his bottom lip from his last game. Close enough to smell his soap, a hint of winter mint, and him.

I lift my hand to his chest, not to push him away, but to feel his heart. It’s beating wildly, mirroring my own.

“Kiss me,” I whisper, the words barely leaving my mouth before he bends toward me.

The first touch of his mouth to mine is careful.

Too careful, as if he’s asking if I’m sure and giving me time to pull back.

I answer by gripping the front of his shirt and pulling him closer.

Kai breaks.