Running Back (New York Leopards 2)

“Then I guess it’s brave of her.”

“Yeah.” I straightened. “Oh my God. How is she going to survive? She’s always had someone to take care of her.”

“Well, she is an adult.”

“Yeah, I know.” My gaze went back to the rain and then I sighed.

“What had you wanted to tell me earlier?”

The rain was no longer friendly; the lights no longer warm. Or at least I couldn’t feel it. “I don’t know.”

“I thought—I thought maybe you wanted to talk about afterward. Since I’m going home on Sunday.”

No, Mike. Not now. I didn’t want to talk about afterward because there was no afterward. Because things ended. They ended, and they were buried, and they were lost forever. That was the only forever.

I heard him take a step closer to me, and the ghost of his reflection showed in the darkened window. “I wanted to tell you something too.”

I shook my head, my arms holding my knees against my chest.

His h

and curved over my shoulder. “Natalie, look at me.”

I closed my eyes.

“I’m leaving tomorrow. Training camp starts soon.”

“I know.”

“Natalie.”

Slowly, I turned and looked at him. He knelt before me and took my hands between his. His eyes were warm and bright and steady, just like they were every time he looked at me. I felt muddled—my heart felt so full, but like tight vines constricted it, and I couldn’t breathe.

He traced the counters of my cheek and jaw. His mouth crooked up in my favorite smile. “Natalie. I love you.”

My chest felt like it exploded, like there were shards of metal and air and everything was dizzy and messy. I kept my eyes on his like they anchored me, like I’d spin away if I let go, carried off until I vanished from existence.

He loved me.

And I loved him. I loved him with every part of me, just like my mother had loved my father.

My breathing came faster, and Mike must have known something was wrong by the furrow of his brows. “Natalie?”

The words broke out of me, the wrong ones. “But it doesn’t last.”

The furrows increased. “What?”

I clutched his hands, desperately trying to make him understand. “Love doesn’t work. It just never works.”

I could feel him draw away. His face shuttered, the mask I hadn’t seen in so long falling back in place. He shifted his balance so his whole body leaned away from mine. “So you don’t love me.”

“No, Mike, I—” My throat convulsed and I had to pause and work back tears. “Mike—nothing lasts forever.”

He stood slowly. “I should finish packing.”

I followed him to the door, still unable to make any words come out. I couldn’t process. I couldn’t think. This was going too fast. I needed to make him understand that I did love him. But my throat wouldn’t work and my lips wouldn’t move, and when they finally did, nothing useful came out. “Mike, stop. I’m not saying—we’re still—This isn’t it, right?”

He stopped, his shoulders ram rod straight, and then he turned. The smile had vanished, and his eyes were so bright I almost believed it came from a sheen of tears. “I don’t think you get it. I didn’t want to date you. I wanted... Forever. Which you don’t believe in.” He took my face in his hands, and pressed his lips to mine. He tasted like salt and wind. Mine.