But if I could stick around, then maybe things would change for him.

“I don’t want to leave,” I whisper.

He’s quiet. I didn’t mean to really let this out just yet, but it slipped. Something about the fragile tension between us made me want to spill my secrets.

“You mean Wickett?” His voice is gravelly and quiet.

“Yeah.”

I wait for his response. Something, anything that tells me to stay. I know that with one word, I would do it. I would stay. I’m too vulnerable and desperate for anything to hold on to.

And he doesn’t answer, just rolls away and sits up with his feet on the floor and his head in his hands.

I have to swallow down my nerves. I’ve grown too attached, and it’s pushing him away.

“Logan,” I whisper, sitting up and placing my hand on his back.

He quickly stands and walks toward the kitchen area, flipping on a bright light that chases away the delicate mood in the room. I watch as he pulls a pan out of the oven and gives it a little stir before tasting it.

“What did I say?” I ask.

“Nothing. Are you hungry?” He’s put up a wall between us. His voice is cold and distant as he pulls down a couple bowls and starts filling them with a creamy white pasta.

My breathing gets shallow from frustration.

In a leap, I stomp across the room and put myself in his line of sight. “Logan, stop it.”

He drops the bowl on the counter with a thud. “You can’t talk like that,” he barks at me.

“Talk like what? About staying?” I can’t believe he’s shutting down on me so much over this.

“Yes. About staying.”

“Why? Why is it so bad that I want to stay here?”

His mouth is closed tightly as he avoids my question again. He’s still trying to fix the food, but my nerves are so on edge, my stomach couldn’t handle anything right now.

“It’s because you don’t want me.” My voice shakes, and I can’t help the tears that are following. “I get it. This is just a fun fling for you, but it feels like a lot more than that to me, Logan.” I place myself between him and the counter, steeling myself against his words. “If you don’t want me, tell me now so I don’t fall even harder when this week is over.”

His hands are on the counter, framing me between them. His head drops as I wait for the words that will ruin me. Waiting for him to tell me to leave. That I got too attached, too clingy. That I let my emotions get too involved and ruined everything.

“Oh, Sierra,” he murmurs.

“Just tell me, Logan. Tell me you don’t care about me, and I’ll leave now. Spare me from the heartache.”

He’s so still. His jaw is clenched tight, and I can see the movement in his muscles holding his mouth closed.