Move the Stars (Something in the Way 3)

“I’ve felt disconnected from her for so long,” Lake said. “It felt personal when she took you from me. All of this makes me sick . . . just not enough for me to let you go.”

“You can’t let me go, Lake.” I kept my nose in her hair, inhaling her. “I won’t be let go.”

14

Manning

Lake got fired from the restaurant. She’d missed too many days and then when she finally had shown up, she was hours late. While she wasn’t happy about it, it did mean we got more time together before I left—or so I’d thought.

The day after she’d been let go, she had to work the shelter’s front desk, and no amount of sweet talk on my part could convince her to call in. To top it off, the place was in Brooklyn, an area I’d never taken the time to research. Since I couldn’t spend the morning with her, I jammed as many appointments into our time apart as I could. I turned on the charm and sold the shit out of Ainsley-Bushner pharmaceuticals. I wanted to leave Lake with money, and return to her with it, so she wouldn’t ever have to worry about our situation.

While she was finishing up at the animal shelter, I worked on repairs throughout her apartment—and there were plenty to choose from. Between loose floorboards, a faulty flush valve, mold, and a backed-up shower drain, I’d already been to the hardware store twice.

With half my torso under her kitchen sink, I tried to come to terms with the fact that this time tomorrow, I’d be leaving for the airport. Five days hadn’t been enough time. A thousand days wouldn’t be. Every minute I spent without her, my body ached. My mind wandered too far away. Was Brooklyn as dangerous as I’d heard? What if leaving her tomorrow would be too hard? What if she was held up at the shelter, and they needed her another hour of the twenty-four I had left with her?

I heard the door and glanced up as Lake came into the kitchen, a spring in her step. “I told my boss all about you, and she let me off a little early,” she said, grinning. “What’re you doing?”

“Replacing corroded nuts and traps,” I said, trying not to sound as relieved to see her as I felt.

She laughed. “Have you been at it all day?”

“I tried to get as much done as I could before I go.” I used my sleeve to wipe sweat from my upper lip since my hands were greasy. “And I needed somewhere to take out my sexual frustration. You went for a run this morning and left me all alone in bed.”

“I’m sorry.” She set her purse on the kitchen table. “It calms me down.”

“You’re not calm?”

“You’re leaving,” she said. “And I’m scared. It feels . . .”

She was scared—she didn’t know the meaning of the fucking word. I had no idea how I was going to get by once I returned to California. I was already on edge being away from her.

I put down the pliers to slide out from under the sink. “How’s it feel, Lake?”

She crossed the kitchen, stepped one foot over my torso and looked down at me. Would’ve been nice if she were wearing a skirt, but she had jeans on. After seeming to think, she lowered her ass onto my chest. “This is how it feels,” she said. “Like I can’t breathe, and when I do, it hurts.”

She could’ve crossed her legs and given me all hundred and ten pounds of her, it wouldn’t matter. “This doesn’t hurt,” I said.

“If I sit here long enough it will,” she said.

“I don’t think so. I think the longer you sit here, the better it will feel.”

I didn’t want her to waste time being sad. The clock was running down, and I hadn’t felt this content since before she’d left me in California. I wasn’t ready to let go of it. “Look, if the divorce is going to take awhile,” I told her, “I’ll fly out to visit. Even if it’s for a day or two. How about next time I’m here, we paint this place? Any color you want. I’ll build you furniture that matches and install some lighting. You won’t even recognize the place when I’m done with it.”

She smiled and moved her ass into my lap, right where I wanted it. “What if I want hot-pink walls?” she asked.

“Then you’re going about it the right way. But wait until you hear what else I did today.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Caught two mice, set them free, and sealed all the holes in the walls.”

She gasped. “Are you serious? You didn’t kill them?”

“Against my better judgement, no.”

“Oh my God. You’re my hero.” She wiggled on my lap—that alone was worth all the extra effort it’d taken me to spare the lives of fucking rodents—and said, “You deserve a reward.”