“Oh … let me run up and get Fisher. He’ll carry your suitcase to the car so you don’t have to lug it up by yourself.”

“I’ve got it.”

“He’ll get it. I don’t want you tripping or anything.” She ran up the stairs.

“I’ve got it. Really.” I started to open the door to carry it up to my car.

“Fisher can you give Reese a hand with her suitcase?”

Gah! Why?

I barely got it out the door before Rory returned with Fisher.

Fisher in his exercise shorts and no shirt. Tennis shoes untied like he’d just slipped them on his bare feet. If he wasn’t going to marry me and put ten babies in my womb, then the shirtless thing was nothing more than a big F-you to me.

“I said I can do it. She’s coddling me. Again.” I rolled my eyes to lighten the mood and give my eyes something to do besides gawk at his unnaturally flawless body.

“Well, I’m here now. I’ll carry it.” He took the suitcase from me and headed up the side of the house.

“Bye, sweetie. Text me as soon as you land.” Rory gave me one last hug.

“I will. See you Sunday.” I closed the door and jogged to catch up to Fisher. “Sorry. Really, I had it.”

Fisher loaded it into the back of my Forester. “It’s no big deal.” He closed the back.

“Well, thanks.”

“Enjoy your trip.”

I nodded, feeling the heat of his body. I always felt him without ever touching him. My body seemed to naturally gravitate toward him like it knew where it belonged before my brain figured it out.

We couldn’t work together. We couldn’t ride in the same vehicle. We could barely be in the same room without a clawing need ripping me apart from the inside. That must have been what withdrawal felt like.

“Reese?”

I turned after opening my door.

“I’m sorry.”

It was a terrible apology. I didn’t want his words. Fisher showed me. That was what he did. He showed me when he was sorry. It meant more. No … it meant everything. But that … that sad uttering of apology from his lips felt empty, like he was drained but he’d managed to gather a few drops of apology as if it would quench my thirst. My unquenchable thirst for him.

“I should have known better. It was selfish of me.” He added yet another layer of pain to my already throbbing wounds.

Regret.

It was always the regret that hurt the most.