Leave it to Kylie to go all disappointed mom on me and make me feel like shit. She’s one hundred percent right, though. That’s not me.

“Fuck, Ky. Why do you gotta be so fucking right all the time.”

“I’m not even going to gloat about that right now, because I’m serious. Tell him how you’re feeling. Even if what you’re feeling is pissed that it happened. Get that shit off your chest, Cash. You went five long fucking years without a peep from him. There was so much you wanted to say but couldn’t. Now’s your chance.”

“You’re right,” I grumble, downing the rest of my drink and contemplating how I’m going to have this talk with him.

I dread it.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Stone Philips

Cash: Can I stop by your office this morning after my first class?

It’s been about thirty minutes since I got to work and just as long since I’ve been staring at the text from Cash. I don’t know why I’m having a hard time responding to him, but I think subconsciously I know that whatever it is he wants to talk about isn’t going to be good.

It was frustrating, to say the least, to wake up yesterday and find him gone. I wanted to believe we had made headway when we hooked up the night before. It felt raw and real to me… but maybe it was just me. Either way, I dread this conversation, but may as well get it over with.

Me: Of course. See you in a bit.

His first class gets out at ten. So, I have an hour and a half to prepare myself. I’ve done nothing but replay Saturday night with him over and over in my head since I woke up alone. I want more nights like that with him. Many more.

But I also want early mornings, waking up together.

I want midday naps together, where we do much more than sleep.

And sunrises. Sunsets. Nights under the stars.

I fucking want it all, and I’ll probably never have it because I screwed it all up.

I end up losing myself in my work. I have meetings later on that I have to get ready for, and I don’t realize how much time has passed until I hear a soft knock on my door.

“Come in!” Glancing at the time on my computer, it’s already after ten. Here goes nothing.

The door pushes open and in he walks. He’s wearing navy-blue slacks that mold to his form perfectly, a short sleeve white button-down shirt, and his hair is slicked back, not a stray hair in sight. He looks stunning.