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I can’t ignore the ache in my chest when he pulls back and the moment is over, but I know it’s for the best.

Wouldn’t it be nice if this didn’t have to be over?

I must be going insane. He can’t be anything but glad to finally get me out of his life, right? I’ve only made a bad situation worse, given him more to deal with, to worry about. At least, that’s what it feels like. Not to mention, we’re as different as night and day.

And let’s face it. The lack of life-and-death situations will be nice. I’ve always taken for granted how mundane my life was, but never again. I hope it stays boring forever.

Though when he smiles and stares into my soul, I can’t lie to myself and act like there isn’t part of me that wishes he’d ask me to stay.

Chapter Thirty

Adrian

This is good. Back to real life. No more distractions or diversions, no more having someone chatter in my ear at all hours.

The best part? No longer feeling responsible for another human being. There’s a reason some people are not meant to be parents. I am one of those people. It would never work. I’m too used to looking out for myself and no one else.

And what am I doing with my recently regained freedom as I sit in a Chicago hotel room after flying in to do a job?

Stalking the girl I keep telling myself I’m glad I put on a plane and sent back to Florida. Stalking might be a harsh word, but it’s the only one that comes to mind as I take my twice-daily tour of June’s social media accounts. It’s always the same thing, or at least it has been over the past two weeks since we separated. She posts pictures of the snacks she’s eating while she writes, playlists for her readers to sink further into the vibe of what she’s currently working on, random quotes from her books with links to purchase.

I’ve been tempted to read them, but I’ve never gone through with it. There are certain bridges even I’m unwilling to cross. I can sneak into a heavily guarded home and assassinate its occupants without blinking an eye, but reading smut? A man has his limits.

Besides, reading her work would only bring back vivid memories of how we brought her words to life more than once. It’s one thing to jerk off in the shower with those memories running through my head like my own personal porno. I don’t need to let them consume me.

So why are you doing this?

The voice of reason in my head, which coincidentally sounds a lot like Theo’s, gets quieter all the time. Still, it’s there, especially when I use the credentials one of my contacts extracted at my request to log on to June’s email. It’s more of the same: messages from her editor, requests to have her read and write reviews for other authors, alerts about upcoming events.

The sight of so much normalcy allows me to breathe easier. She’s safe. Her life has gone back to what it was before we ever crossed paths.

That’s a good thing. The way it should be.

So why the hell do I feel so empty? I remember a time when I needed nothing. Travel, work, that was my life. I was content, set in my ways. No friends, no attachments, no place to call home. That’s the life I chose, I remind myself over and over again. That’s what I’m good at. It’s all I know. It’s safe and familiar. Besides that, I never dared to imagine another life. Theo always dreamed of being more . . . normal, having a relationship, building a life. Not me. I thought I would die doing what I do, and I was okay with it. For the first time in my life, I’m doubting myself, doubting that what I have been doing is enough.

Now I sit in a hotel room, wishing the scent of her hair would greet me when my head touches the pillow later tonight. I miss the sight of her shampoo in the shower. The way she snorts when she laughs. My ears crave the sound. Hacking her email is a pale, unsatisfying alternative, but it’s all I have.

This is all I have. An empty room service tray. An empty bed. Silence I used to rely on that now leaves me feeling lonely. Working out used to energize me; now it’s just another thing to do. Planning out a job was exciting, but now I have to drag myself to get it done. Even eating a good meal was something I would look forward to; now everything tastes bland.

I’m sitting with that sobering thought when my cell rings with an incoming FaceTime call from Theo. After sitting up straighter at the desk, I answer, narrowing my eyes before asking, “What the fuck do you want? I’m starting to think you’re obsessed with me, calling as much as you do.”

No one can look disparaging the way he can. “Checking in. I didn’t know that was a crime.”

“Nobody said it was, but I’m getting a little tired of hearing your voice, if I’m being honest.” What I’m tired of is the sense of being hovered over. Knowing he’s worried about me. Christ, is there anything more pathetic than a grown man being looked after by his big brother?

“How’s the Windy City?” he asks. Behind him, a fire burns in the hearth. All he needs is a pipe between his teeth to complete the image. He looks so relaxed, which isn’t a surprise since he doesn’t have to look over his shoulder any longer. I imagine his living room being warm and cozy. The closest I can come to that is turning up the heat on the thermostat.

“Unchanged.”

“Good to know.” He speaks slowly, like he’s suspicious.

“How is your ranch?” I ask quickly, hoping to talk about him instead of me.

“Bought some cattle and chickens at the livestock sale last week,” he tells me proudly.

“And how is this time going to be different from the last?”

He frowns, glancing away from the camera. “You were right.”