Page 89 of Heal Me, Love Me

Knowing I was welcome in their home, even without Rowan, nearly broke me. Probably because the memories I had of my father never included kindness like that. “Okay.”

Dawn kissed Rowan’s cheek one more time, then stepped back before she could change her mind and hold on longer. With breakfast in hand, he and I somehow managed to grab all his luggage, then walked out together.

Light had barely begun creeping over the horizon, and the neighborhood had that early-morning quiet where it would feelrude to close the car door too loudly. Nearby, a sprinkler turned on to water a lawn, and a dog barked a few times, then stopped.

He slid into the passenger seat as I put his carry-on in the back. When I got in on the driver’s side, I sat there for a second, both hands on the wheel, staring through the windshield at the empty street.

“You ready?” I asked.

“No.”

I let out a sigh. “Me either.”

And even though neither of us wanted to go, I drove away from the curb. We didn’t talk much at first. The radio stayed off, and I steered with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on his knee.

“This sucks,” I finally admitted.

His thumb moved over my hand. “It does.”

“I know it’s good, and I understand why Atlantic Combat is the right move.”

“Yeah.”

“I still hate it.”

His fingers tightened around mine. “You’re allowed to.”

When we reached the airport, the sun was shining over the terminal. Cars stopped in the drop-off zone, trunks popped open, and people dragged suitcases to the curb, trying to look more awake than they felt.

I found an open spot and parked. Rowan reached for the door handle first, and then I got out too. I walked around to the back of the car and lifted his suitcase and gym bag from the trunk while he adjusted his backpack’s strap. People walked past us toward the sliding glass door, not paying any attention to us as we stood on the sidewalk and stared at each other. He studied my face, taking his time, as I did the same with him. He looked tired, his hair was a mess, and his mouth was set in that stubborn way it got when he was trying not to let too much show.

It was annoying how much I loved him.

I’d spent years telling myself Rowan was something I’d survived, a mistake that taught me not to trust the good shit when things finally went my way.

Now he was standing in front of me, a boarding pass on his phone and my hoodie in his bag, and all I could think was that I’d finally gotten him back, just in time to have him leave all over again.

He reached for me, and my arms went around his back as his wrapped around my waist. I pressed my face into his neck, breathing him in like I could savor his scent until I saw him again.

“I don’t want to let go,” I whispered.

“Me either.”

“Then don’t make me do it first.”

He hugged me harder. “Okay.”

Cars continued to pull up to the curb and pull away again. Travelers brushed past us with rolling bags while we held onto each other as if neither of us knew how to let go.

Eventually, we both drew back to look at each other. My eyes were wet, and I was pissed about it because crying at the airport felt like one more piece of evidence proving I was not cut out for this long-distance boyfriend thing.

“This is going to be awesome for you,” I managed.

“Baby—”

“No, let me get it out.” I swallowed, then forced the words past the tightness in my throat. “I’m proud of you, and even though I’m sad, I need you to know that.”

Rowan nodded. “I do.”