Betrayals (Cainsville Book 4) (45 page)

“Started …?”

“We need to step back, Liv. To where we began. Being friends.”

Now I couldn’t breathe. Really and truly couldn’t. Somehow, I heard myself saying, “You’re breaking up—”

“No. We’re stepping back. The two of us. Together. Because it’s the right thing to do. Because otherwise, the
three
of us don’t work.”

“Gabriel? No. If you think—”

“I think we need to find out. I think that’s going to loom over our heads until we do. Yeah, Gabriel isn’t like that kid in the vision. He’s not going to shoot me in the back. He’s not Gwynn, either. He’s not going to force you to choose. But that’s still there. Those parts are still there. Same as the part of me that looks at you and knows that I stole you away before he could get his shit in order. The Arawn part did that. And it’s true. When Gabriel told me he wasn’t interested in you, I knew that was bullshit, and I went for you anyway. The only reason I won you is because he wouldn’t step up. And now you’re never going to leave me for him, because what we have is good. Damned fucking amazing good, and you won’t give that up and hurt me and risk hurting yourself. So this is where I step back.”

I wanted to tell him he was wrong. I wanted him and only him, and there was no tension, no question, no anything else. But that wasn’t true, was it?

I looked out at the sun rising over the forest. “So, I guess …
I guess you’ll want me to go home now. That was a goodbye night.”

“Or the start of a goodbye week.”

When I looked at him, he reached over and fished his phone from his pocket. He flipped to a screen and held up his list of top ten motorcycle trails.

“One more week?” he asked. “One more trip?” He caught my expression, and his gaze dropped. “Shit, I’m sorry. An amicable breakup is one thing, but I’m asking for the most fucking amicable one in history.” His fingers trembled slightly as he put the phone aside. “Sorry. Yeah, that was too much. I didn’t mean to …” He exhaled. “Sorry.”

At this moment, I wanted nothing more than to run. Get the hell out of here, find someplace quiet, and cry my eyes out.

He wanted to postpone our breakup for a week? Go on a trip and act as if nothing had happened? Hell, yes, that was asking for the most amicable breakup in history. It was crazy. Absolutely crazy.

I took a deep breath. A deep breath, and a long moment to think, just think.

Yes, he was asking for the most amicable breakup in history. But that’s what I owed Ricky. What I owed
us.
Because as much as this hurt—and it hurt so fucking much—if I said no and ran off, I’d regret it. I didn’t want to lose him from my life, and if that was possible, if we really could keep on being friends, this was how it started. By not running.

I reached for the phone, picked it up, and handed it back.

“Your turn this time,” I said. “Choose
one.”