Page 170 of Josephine and Clay

I can’t untangle something that important in the middle of a goodbye conversation.

Not today.

“So you’ll leave,” I say.

His eyes search mine. “Yeah.”

“When?”

“Soon.” He looks away again. “Once I can manage the travel. I’ve already started making calls.”

Of course he has a plan. And that plan doesn't include me.

The fact that he's already thought this through shouldn't surprise me. It should give me the clarity I've been looking for, a clean answer.

Instead, the knowledge settles heavily in my chest.

I smooth my palms over my jeans. “Then I’m glad you apologized before you left.”

Emotion flickers across his face. “That sounds like goodbye.”

“It sounds practical.”

“Josie.”

I hate the way he says my name sometimes. Like he can make it softer than I want it to be.

I stand before my resolve can weaken. “I should get back to work.”

His hand moves like he might reach for me, but he stops himself.

Good.

Terrible.

He rises slower, jaw clenched against pain. “Are we okay?”

That question is unfair because it requires a definition neither of us has earned.

I look at him, really look.

The sun catches in his dark hair. His eyes are too blue, too tired. He looks like trouble and want and every bad decision I've ever tried to avoid wrapped into one man with a broken leg and a bruised heart.

I could love him.

The realization is so sudden and so awful that I almost laugh.

I could. But I have to be careful.

And careful doesn’t mean lying forever.

It doesn’t mean keeping the twins from him.

It means waiting until this conversation isn’t balanced on pain, fear, and the possibility of him saying yes to something he hasn’t had time to truly choose.

“We’re not angry,” I say.

“That wasn’t the question.”