I know he’s watching me from the doorway, but I refuse to halt my progress. He didn’t want to talk last night. He never came back to my room. I made him angry and he left, was cold, and that hurt after everything I shared.

“Kate,” his voice warns, and I release a breath before I meet his eyes.

“Look, I appreciate what you did last night. You’re a good friend, Jon.” And I do appreciate him. Only, the feelings he stirs inside unsettle my carefully constructed life. The one in which I know how to be happy.

“What if I don’t want to be your friend?” My gaze drops back to the drawer full of bras and panties.

“Oh. I guess that’s fair.” I attempt, unsuccessfully, to keep the hurt from my voice. Well, shit. I thought he considered me a friend. And after the past couple of weeks, well, his words hurt. His voice breaks my thoughts.

“Kate, I don’t want to be your friend because I want to be more.” My gaze lifts to his eyes. They’re filled with hope, almost pleading with my own. No.

“Jon, don’t. We’d be horrible together. I’m broken, you even said so last night. We’d argue constantly. You’d punch things. Or people. We can’t be together. You should be with someone nice, sweet. Someone like Carly.” There’s no way he wants me. He may think he does, but give us time and it’d be a disaster.

“Carly? Why are you even bringing her up?”

“Because you asked her to the gala.” I toss the duffle onto the bed and glance around the room to assess what still needs to be packed.

“Because you were already taking Trent!” Jon shakes his head and blows out a breath. “Kate, I don’t want Carly.” He crosses the threshold and I raise my hands. He stops.

“Someone who’s not me, then.” I speak plain and firmly.

“So, I don’t get a say in the matter? You’ve already decided for us?” The words tumble from his lips in a shout.

“I don’t want to fight. I just want to pack my things and get out of here. My super called, said the units are cleared for move in. And my car’s fully repaired. They’re dropping it by before work. So, you don’t have to put up with me anymore. I’ll be gone within the hour.” I keep my voice even. I don’t want to engage, because gazing into those brooding brown eyes, I know he can sway my decision. But I’ve made the right one.

“Damn it, Kate!” He turns and storms from the room. A few moments pass and I jump at the slam of the front door. Good, he left for his run. It’ll be easier to flee without him watching my every move. I release a humorless laugh. How twisted is that? I’m moving back to my apartment, in my car, and I consider it an escape. I shake my head and resume packing. Eye on the prize, Kate. Get things back to the way they were and I’m sure I’ll feel better.

PISSED OFF, I SLAM THE door to the apartment and break into a steady jog. Running helps clear my mind. Exercise, in general. There’s something so simplistic and basic about it. I can let my mind focus on what I know—movement, breath, sweat. The endorphins bring clarity, if only for a fleeting moment.

She can’t be fucking serious. Kate thinks she can just move out and things go back to the way they were? Hell no. Not on my watch. Fucking Kate Bryant. Why do things have to be so difficult? She frustrates the hell out of me. I pump my legs faster, moving into a steady pace. Not sure how long I want to run today. I hang a right at the corner and head west, away from the morning sun.

I handled last night poorly. She gave me so much of herself after the bout with her father. She’s a tough, strong woman. She’s earned my utmost respect. But when she jumped on the bandwagon of Jon-needs-a-shrink, it hurt. Had she been talking to Alex? Why does everyone suddenly think I’m about to lose my marbles? I’m fine. I’m handling things. I don’t need a doctor to tell me life is challenging, that Will’s death is not my fault. I already know these things. Having a damn pity party won’t make me feel better.

I paced my room for an hour last night. I wanted to go back to her. To apologize. To hold her. To make love to her. That led to more pacing, and then later, pushups until I couldn’t anymore. I was thankful when sleep took over and gave me rest from the thoughts that plagued. I wasn’t sure what to do.

That was, until this morning.

Seeing her packing her things was all wrong. Kate’s been driving me crazy for weeks, yet somehow I’ve become addicted. I don’t want her to leave. I want her to stay. That scares the shit out of me. To give someone that level of control over my life, it’s more than a little frightening. But I’ve tried fighting and the reality is that she already has a hold whether I want her to or not. I just have to give it a shot.

Her nonsense about us not being a fucking option, now that’s infuriating. That I should be with Carly? I’ve never wanted Carly. Carly would never crash her car for me, hold me when I cry, call me out on my bullshit. And I’ve done things for Kate I’d never do for any other woman. Hell, I’ve never baked a cake for anyone. Until Kate. I can’t believe I didn’t see it until now.

She’s my person.

I need to make things right. I turn before I reach the next light, back tracking my steps at a faster, steady sprint. Kate likes to be in control and I get that. But there is no way I’m letting her control this. I’ll just have to convince her otherwise. Yeah. I need to talk to Kate. Tell her how I feel. Prove to her that we can be good together.

Oh, but we are so fucking good together.

Her tight pussy milking my dick, ass bent over in those fuck me heels. The sounds she makes when I lick her out. My heart drums faster. Shaking my head, I push those thoughts from my mind. The sooner I convince Kate we’re meant to be, the sooner I can make her feel good.

I pump my legs as fast as they will go and sprint the entire way back to the apartment. I need to talk to Kate. And thinking about being intimate together is only making this run uncomfortable. The faster I can get home, the faster I can get my woman.

I throw open the front door of the apartment and call out for her. It’s too quiet. I sense if I go down the hall I’ll find an empty room, but I can’t fight the urge to check, regardless. The door is open, lights off, and, yep, she’s gone. The boxes from earlier are nowhere to be found. Kate’s sheets and blankets have been pulled off and replaced by Evie’s set.

“Damn it!” I stomp to the bathroom, peel away my sweaty clothes and toss them in a pile. I twist the faucet and the shower soon fills with steam. Kate’s gone; she might think she’s won. Yeah, not happening. I need a better game plan to think things through. My girl is stubborn and I'm preparing for an all-out battle of wills.

Squirting a glob of shampoo into my hands, I run my fingers over and through my hair. I rinse my head and then work the soap into a lather and run my hands down my torso. Thoughts of Kate, her beautiful spirit, feisty attitude, toned body, perky tits, and luscious, smart mouth, fuel my hands’ descent. I’m rock hard, stroking my length, imagining Kate’s hands are my own.

Leaning back against the fiberglass enclosure, I picture Kate on her knees before me. God, I wish she were with me now. Within minutes, I reach my orgasm, Kate’s name a prayer on my lips as my hands coat with evidence of my desire. I push off the wall and the spray from the showerhead collides against my stomach. I reach for the soap once more, and make quick work this time.

The tension I released only moments ago seeps back in. Masturbation is a hollow replacement for the real thing. Twisting the knob so the water slows to a stop, I resolve that the next time I get off in the shower Kate will be physically present instead of only in my thoughts.