Yeah. I love her like an anvil dropped on my heart, but that’s why I don’t want her to go.
My reason, not hers.
“It’s your decision, Peach. Wouldn’t be right for me to twist your arm one way or another.”
She closes her eyes and smiles, shaking her head.
“I knew you’d say that.”
I don’t understand. It’s the only thing I can say. This has to be her choice, and entirely hers, with no ifs, ands, or buts.
Her eyelids flutter open as a more serene smile forms on her lips. “Tell me this—do you want me to leave Dallas?”
“Darlin’, you already know what I want, and it doesn’t matter. If I launch into theatrics about what you mean to me, how you’re stuck in my head with every loving breath…well, that shit wouldn’t be fair. This is your choice. Your future. Your happiness. What I think about it doesn’t count,” I tell her, fully aware I just slipped up and dumped my guts.
Dammit.
“Wrong,” she whips out. “What you want does count. I don’t want to stay if you don’t want me here.”
Curling my lip, I shove the blade of the shovel into the ground and step toward her. “Enough with these games. I’ll always want you here, woman, but the question is, do you want to be here? Do you want to be with me? Any way we cut it, you can’t chase your dreams to the stars being tied down with anyone—especially me.”
“Yes,” she whispers, batting her eyes. “I know and I…I want you, Quinn. Having a life without you in it feels like no life at all.”
I realize she’s blinking back something heavy and wet a second later.
“What about your dancing?” I ask softly, stopping in front of her, gingerly laying my hands on her shoulders. “You’ve worked your whole life for it.”
Nodding, she says, “Sure, but I’ve been thinking and…well, I think that part of my life might be over. It’s not just you. I’m sick of the stress, sick of Chicago, sick of back-stabby people like Jean-Paul and Madeline. Sick of the endless drama it causes with Mother, too. What would a normal relationship with her be like? All this time, I’ve been living her dream. Not mine.”
“Tory—” I try to cut in, but she ain’t having it.
“Listen. I’ve made up my mind and I’m ready for something different. And part of that’s figuring out I’ve felt more alive here than anywhere else, and I’d like to stay longer. See if that feeling lasts, if this is really what I want. The rest will come. We don’t have to stay in Dallas forever, but for now? I can’t imagine anywhere I’d rather be. And you’re the only man I want to be anywhere with, Quinn Faulkner.”
Shit, shit.
It’s hard pretending my throat’s not getting tight, so I squeeze her shoulders, playing a total fool.
“How long?” I ask her. “How long you want to stay here giving small-town life a spin?”
She laughs, wiping away an escaping tear, then lays a hand on my chest.
“Um, until you kick me out?”
It’s my turn to chuckle, and grasping her hips, I lean down and take her lips like there’s no tomorrow. Then peel back to stare into those blue eyes I want to drown in forever.
“Got some bad news for you, Peach.” I pause. “That’s never gonna happen. You stay, you’re stuck with me.”
She beams like the sun. “In that case, I have one more question…”
Her eyes are gleaming now, more than a little mischievous.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“Would you consider going on a road trip?”
I cock my head. “Road trip? Sure. Uh, where?”
Her arms loop around my neck and she presses against me, teasing me to a new high.
“Chicago, so I can pick up my things and bring them back here. Don’t worry, I already told Mother I’m moving out, so she’ll be expecting company.”
“Tory, I’d follow you to the devil’s doorstep. No question. As long as you’re certain.” I catch her under the chin with one knuckle, gingerly gliding it across her cheek. “You are sure, right? About staying here? About giving up that director job?”
“Totally. I’d miss you a hundred times more than I’ll ever miss dancing.” She kisses my chin. “Besides, I can still dance in the barn whenever I want.” Stretching on her toes, she whispers next to my ear, “Buck naked.”
Oh, hell, now she’s speaking my language.
My worries are replaced by wild visions of everything I’m aching to do to her tonight.
We make the trip to Chicago the following weekend.
Turns out, a road trip with Tory is like everything else with her.
Fun-filled days, lots of easy banter, and nights so passionate they leave scorch marks on the sheets.
Once we’re pulling into the Windy City, though, I can sense her jitters compounding with every mile.
After a long stretch where I have to adapt to rude, overly aggressive hornet human beings behind the wheel, we pull the truck up to an immaculate home in a fancy-looking neighborhood.