He studies me, his eyes full of thoughts I can’t read and know he won’t share. “You can stay here as long as you want. Take some time. Think things through. Jamaal will be here. He’ll get you anything you need.”
I tuck my feet under me and sit next to him. He’s already dressed in dark jeans and a white button-up dress shirt. “Are you going somewhere?”
“I leave for Afghanistan this morning.”
A memory flickers. “You’re performing for the troops?”
“Yeah.”
“How long until you leave?”
He cuts his eyes to me and pushes off the bed. “My driver’s waiting out front.”
“Is this it? Is this…goodbye? For good?”
He closes his eyes. “It has to be. ”
I slide off the bed and touch my hand to his face. “How am I supposed to let you go?” I run my fingers along his jaw. “It’s the right thing to do, but—” My voice breaks.
He cups my jaw, his fingers sliding into my hair. “I know your memory isn’t the greatest right now,” he says. “So I’m going to tell you the things I need you to remember for me.”
“Okay.”
“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met.” He swallows and braves a tentative smile. “You’re like the sun—completely blind to your own beauty because you are so busy making everyone around you shine. No matter how far we hide in the shadows, you share your light. That’s how you stole my heart when no one else could find it.”
It hurts to breathe. “Nate.”
Steps sound outside the heavy bedroom doors. “The plane’s waiting, Crane.” Jamaal’s voice. “Time to head out.”
Nate ignores him and keeps his dark eyes locked on mine.
“You have to go.”
He holds me tight. “One more thing.”
“What?” I don’t know if I can handle anything else.
“Thank you,” he whispers. “Thank you for giving something I never thought I deserved. And for giving it without expectation or condition. You made me believe I was worth it.”
I shake my head, unsure of this metaphor. “My light?”
“Your love.” He drops his hands and steps back.
I gulp in air and watch him back toward the door. Turn the knob. Walk away.
When he shuts the door behind him, I race to the bathroom, turning on the shower full blast because I can’t stand the idea of letting him hear me cry.
I bite my fist to block the sobs, but they come anyway—thick and angry, ugly sobs of grief and self-pity. Because I don’t have to know anything else about Nate Crane to know I love him. And he just said goodbye.
When the mirror is obscured by steam, I peel off my sleep clothes and step under the spray, letting it pound against me. I close my eyes and imagine the water can wash away all my heartache, all my fears and confusion. I lean my head against the glass enclosure and let the tears come.
My body rocks with my sobs. They tear out of me like my body rejecting poison. I let them come, and I let the water wash them away until my breathing evens and my tears are gone.
I don’t know I’m not alone until hot, rough hands are on my bare shoulders, and Nate is turning me around.
“Nate,” I breathe.
He’s fully clothed, the water streaming down his face as he looks at me. “Why’d you have to forget?” Then his mouth is on mine, lips and tongue and teeth, taking and demanding and punishing.