“That’s true,” I admitted. And it was. Yet that first morning we’d spent in bed together came back in a rush I couldn’t ignore, how my heart had ached as he’d categorized his injuries one by one. All these fans, all these analysts…In their minds, it was like I gave up more than they could understand. But it wasn’t for them to understand. It wasn’t their health and memory to lose. “I imagine it wasn’t an easy decision to make.”

“No,” he said softly. “And leaving won’t be either.”

For the first time since Harry’s phone call interrupted us, his words held the same level of yearning currently coursing through my own veins.

“It’s certainly harder this time for me,” I said, surprised when the words came out in barely a whisper. “I feel completely at fault here, Dean.”

He re-squared his shoulders.

“Usually”—I’m not, you know, falling in love with my temporary fling—“I’m very serious about being honest with the person I’m having sex with. Setting clear boundaries is important to me. Especially with a friend. A friend like you. Now I’m leaving tomorrow, and we’ve had zero conversations about being on the same page.”

He hesitated, eyes searching mine until he seemed satisfied by whatever he found there. “Why would you be at fault? I knew what your deal was. You told me. No attachments, only fun.” A heavy, fractured pause followed. “And that’s what the two of us had. Worked hard, played hard. Right?”

I studied him, assessing the cracks in his armor. I, again, had no right to feel frustrated in this moment—I had my own protections guarding my heart. They just appeared in the form of silly flirting and funny jokes. His face was so impassive though. I would have said his nonchalance was a lie, but he wasn’t the lying type.

“Right,” I said, drawing out the word.

“So we’re good, then?” he asked.

All of those badminton-playing butterflies, hammering around in my chest, up and died. This whole thing was like some karmic retribution for the dozens of times I’d been the Dean in the situation. The person maintaining their cool while ending a relationship meant to be casual that was so clearly not casual to the other party.

Except I had seen the pain and hurt on his face this morning when I was talking about going to Austin, hadn’t I? It had been so naked and raw my sternum throbbed like I’d taken a combat boot to it.

That wasn’t nonchalance.