Flushing, I ignore this and smile at Brenna. “Anyone who can make Killian move that fast is okay in my book.”

“Ha!” Brenna wrinkles her nose at Killian. “See? I’m useful.”

Killian snorts but gazes down at me. “Brenna does our PR.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” I say to both Brenna and Mr. Scott. It isn’t precisely true, but I don’t want to alienate the people in Killian’s life. “Can I get y’all anything?”

“Thank you, but no.” Mr. Scott gives me a smile that could freeze water. “We were just leaving.”

He glances out the window. It’s then I notice a small moving truck and guys packing up Killian’s things. A guy walks out, carrying one of Killian’s guitar cases.

Panic hits me, and Killian holds me closer, as if sensing my fear.

“I’ll meet you over there in a bit,” he tells them.

Mr. Scott nods and, after bidding me a brusque “good day,” leaves. Brenna is slower, giving Killian a kiss on the cheek and me a weak smile.

“We’ll meet again, I’m certain,” she tells me.

My nod is wooden. I mutter some sort of farewell, but I don’t really know what I’m saying. Blood whooshes through my head, muting out sound. My heart is in my throat.

The silence they leave us in is pained and complete.

Killian clears his throat and tries to wrap his arms around me. I draw away.

“You’re leaving.”

Sunlight slants through the windows and over Killian. Bathed in that golden light, he looks surreal. The chiseled planes of his chest and abs, the strong lines of his face, the dark power of his eyes—all of it highlighted in sharp relief. Part of me marvels that I’ve touched every inch of that body, that I’ve kissed his lips, taken him into me.

It doesn’t feel real anymore.

He stares down at me, and I see the pain in his eyes. Do I seem as fleeting to him?

“I don’t want to go,” he says, small, flat, final. “But Scottie has booked a couple of early shows before our fall tour. And the guys all want to do it.” He runs a hand over the bristles of his short hair. “I’m the outlier.”

“This is the first time you all will be together since…” I bite my lip.

“Jax,” he finishes for me. “Yeah.”

He shifts his weight onto one foot and then back to the other, as if his body is warring between staying here and heading out the door. I’m being fanciful, I know, and yet I also know he’s torn. I can see it in his pinched lips and pleading eyes.

“Well then,” I say slowly. “You need to join them.”

He blinks as if I’ve sucker-punched him. I don’t know what else he expected me to say. He has to realize I’d never keep him from his life.

When he speaks, his voice is rough, as though he’s been yelling. “I thought I had more time. I wanted more time.”

I’ve suffered no illusions that this summer was anything more than Killian’s escape from reality. It doesn’t stop me from hurting, though. But I don’t let that show. “That’s the thing with endings in real life. You never really know when they’re going to happen.”

“Endings?” His head snaps up. “Is that what you think this is?”

I frown. “Isn’t that what you’re trying to tell me? Goodbye?”

“No!” He tugs me against him and holds on tight. Anger tightens his features. “You want to get rid of me, you’re going to have to try harder, baby doll.”

Unable to resist, I smooth my hands over his chest. Beneath his warm skin, his heart beats hard and fast, matching the pained rhythm of mine. “I don’t want to say goodbye,” I admit quietly.

He kisses me then, as if he’s drawing me into him, memorizing my taste. Despite his words, it’s a kiss that feels like goodbye. He’s breathing hard when he draws away to rest his forehead against mine. “So don’t.”

I stroke the sides of his neck. It’s like trying to ease steel. “You’re going on tour. How long is that? Four months? Five?”

He pulls me a little closer. “Counting practice and these pre-tour concerts, I’d say five and a half.” He ducks his head to meet my eyes. “So what? Out of sight, out of mind? Is that how it is, Libs?”

My fingers curl. “I’m trying to be realistic. I know what goes on during those tours.”

He huffs, his eyes narrowing to obsidian slits. “Do tell.”

A flush of anger races over my skin. “Don’t be thick. ‘Sex, drugs, and rock and roll’ is a cliché for a reason.”

“Oh, I know better than anyone, honey.” He lets me go with a sound of annoyance. “But if you think that’s what will happen when I tour, you don’t know me at all.”

“I’m trying to do the grown-up thing here,” I tell him, struggling not to yell, “and let you go without worrying about me.”

“Oh, well, thanks for being so helpful. How about instead you give me some sign that what we have means more to you than a summer fling?” He tosses a hand up with a snort. “Fuck, you’ve got me sounding like a clinger.”

I bite my lip. Even when I’m pissed at him, I love him. It scares the hell out of me.

“What do we have, Killian?” I ask softly.

His eyes meet mine. “I don’t know. But it’s real. It’s the only real thing I have right now.”

“You have the music—”

He cuts me off with a fierce look. “I don’t want to walk out that door feeling like the second it closes it’s the end of us. Because I won’t do it, Liberty. As far as I’m concerned, we just started. No fucking way will I—”

I wrap my arms around his neck and tug him down to me. His words end in a muffled grunt as I kiss his lips. But he doesn’t resist. He leans into me, opening my mouth with his, slipping his tongue in deep for a taste. With a moan, he grabs my butt and hauls me up. I wrap my legs around him and cling as he walks us backward, kissing me as we go.

We end up on the couch, Killian kneading my ass. He breathes into me, his lips sliding down to my neck, and a shudder runs over his big body. “Libby.” Soft lips nuzzle that spot behind my ear that makes my body tighten. “This is not how I wanted this to go.”