Turning his car off, he jumped out and beat her to the trunk of the car, pulling out her suitcase before she could. He set it on the ground and pulled the handle up, facing her. It had been a cold, quiet day and night, with her avoiding speaking to him more than was absolutely necessary, and he was frustrated. He missed her. Wanted to see her smile.

“Call me when you get in,” he said.

She just nodded. “Thanks for watching Angel.”

“Sure, no problem.”

The longing to touch her, to reassure, to make everything right again, was almost overwhelming. Gabriel clenched his fists and studied her, wanting her to see in his eyes what he couldn’t say in words. Wanting her to know that there were a million things he wanted to tell her but couldn’t. That she had stepped into his lonely life and made it better. Made him better. That he had met and known a lot of women, but that she was the only one who had ever made him feel such an acute longing, such true, deep love.

“You’re coming back, aren’t you?” he asked.

“Probably.”

“Probably? No, you need to come back.” He wanted a commitment, a promise. Needed to hear that she would be back, and soon. She wouldn’t leave her kitten with him permanently, he was positive of that, but he wanted her to return to be with him, not just to collect the cat.

“Why should I come back?” Her head tilted and she was asking so much more. She was asking for all the answers, for everything.

He gave her all he could. “Because I want you to.”

Sara sighed.

Gabriel ground his teeth together, desire, frustration, love all spilling up and over and making him want to kick her suitcase. Or more accurately, to pull Sara into his arms and kiss her senseless.

Instead he settled for a watered down nothing of a kiss that he brushed over her forehead and a muttered “Be careful,” before he turned and walked away, afraid of what else he might say or do.

Afraid that if she asked again, he would tell. Touch.

But when he got in the car and looked in the rearview mirror, she was already walking through the airport doors, without a single glance back, and he was regretful anyway.

Either way, he was going to lose, and he hated it.

Rafe wasn’t home. In fact, it looked like he had moved out. Sara stood on the front walk of his condo and glanced around. Everything was quiet. The blinds were partially open and there was no furniture in his dining room.

He had left. Without telling her.

Stunned and hurt, Sara felt more tears pricking her eyes. Damn it, she hated to cry, and she’d been on the verge for twenty-four hours.

She wouldn’t do it.