Chapters (39)
- Cover
- Praise for Fight or Flight
- Praise for New York Times bestselling author Samantha Young
- ALSO BY SAMANTHA YOUNG
- Epigraph
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Epilogue
- Acknowledgments
- Readers Guide
- Excerpt from FIGHT OR FLIGHT
- About the Author
- What’s next onyour reading list?
Greer sighed. “Evie, I know this isn’t easy for you. I can hear that. I’m sorry for making it harder. Don’t . . . don’t think about anything but what you need. You’ve put so many people before yourself in the past. This is about what you want. Remember that. And forget my earlier selfishness. Blame my grumpiness on the hormones. Speaking of the baby . . . it’s pressing on my bladder and I really need to pee.”
“Okay.” I felt despondent as we said goodbye.
The reality of the choice looming ahead of me was starting to set in. My eyes stung with tears as I wandered out of the storeroom and into the shop. I came to an abrupt halt to find Roane standing in the middle of the room.
He wore an intense expression on his face. “The door was open.”
Oh my God, how much of that conversation had he heard?
“Oh?”
“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”
Shit. “How much did you hear?”
“Not all but enough.” With that, he crossed the distance between us, clasped my face in his hands, and pressed his mouth over mine. I clung to him, moaning as his tongue licked against mine, the kiss greedy and deep. When we finally stopped for air, he pressed his forehead to mine and whispered hoarsely, “I’m blissfully fucking happy too, and I’ve never felt this way about anyone either. Just so you know.”
The emotion I felt before I’d seen him welled up inside me, my eyes burning as I determinedly fought back tears. Roane saw the glitter of them and lifted his head to meet my gaze. “That doesn’t come with pressure, Evie. I don’t want to make this any harder for you.”
“I know.” I melted against him, pressing my cheek to his chest, and reveling in the feel of his strong arms wrapped around me.
Holding me tight.
No pressure, I thought. He didn’t need to put pressure on me to get what he wanted.
Our wants were in sync, as most everything between us was.
And deep down, I was already thinking about applications and visas, and how the next time I flew back to Chicago, my stay would not be a permanent one.
• • •
The sun set a little later in this part of the world in July than it did in Chicago. Roane told me that the farther north you traveled into Scotland, the longer the days were. I’d crossed the border into Berwick, so I was happy to say I’d visited Scotland, but I wanted to go to the Highlands so bad and was already planning a romantic getaway in my head.