Anne of Manhattan by Brina Starler

Then

“The point is practically all you do is sit in the house reading and it won’t kill you to get outside for a weekend.” Diana’s hands were on her hips, that familiar determined expression on her face telling Anne she wasn’t going to take no for an answer. “Sunshine? Fresh air? All our other friends, who you’re going to miss when we leave for the city next week?”

A pinch of guilt wormed its way through Anne’s exasperation. She still had so much to do before they headed off to college. Packing her room at Green Gables was overwhelming, knowing now that she’d graduated high school, it was time to put away her childish keepsakes. Pull down those tattered posters of various bands and sort through the stacks of books that had spilled over from the bookcase into piles that leaned against every wall. Not to mention removing the sprawling collage of photos she’d taken with her friends over the years from over her bed, where she’d thumbtacked them, much to Marilla’s horror. Matthew was going to paint the room while she was at school; she didn’t want to make the job harder than it had to be, since the arthritis in his knees had gotten worse over the last few years.

Things like that would suddenly remind her that both siblings were in their late sixties now, a fact that made her stomach flip over when she thought about it.

At least Marilla had taken mercy on Anne after watching her agonize over what to keep and what to put in bags for donation or the dump. She agreed most of the childhood mementos that neither of them was eager to part with, such as Anne’s numerous academic decathlon medals and the collection of journals she’d filled with angst-ridden teenage poetry, could be stored in the attic. But sorting through the things she wanted to take with her, for what was sure to be a very tiny dorm room at New York University, was a time-consuming task she’d been putting off for very obvious reasons.

It was hard to accept that she’d be leaving Green Gables for an entire year, missing the first turning of the leaves in the fall and the way daffodils poked up around the porch in the spring. Sure, she’d visit often, but it wouldn’t be the same.

“Look at this mess,” she replied finally, waving one hand at her room. Diana had hopped her way through just to get to where Anne sat on the floor by the window seat, sorting clothes she’d had tucked away in the closet with the idea that someday she might want to wear them again. Obviously, her friend understood it wasn’t possible for Anne to just drop everything and run off for a weekend camping trip to the beach, even if half the graduating class was going to be there. Three days and two nights of sand, sun, burned food over a firepit, and probably a lot of dubious hookup choices made in the spirit of most likely never having to see the other person again.

Okay, that did sort of sound like fun, even if that last item wasn’t something she was interested in. Dates in high school had been few and far between, barring her first real relationship in junior year with Roy Gardner. He was tall and slim, with thick black hair and smooth brown skin that never seemed to be marked by the curse of teenage acne the rest of them suffered. His slow smile and the measured, thoughtful way he spoke had drawn her in; Roy was just the sort of boy she’d pictured when dreaming of her first boyfriend. For almost four months they were happy. But then she began to feel restless, and all the things that had seemed charming and sweet before just irritated her now, though she couldn’t ever pin down exactly why. When she’d told him that it wasn’t him, it was her, she’d meant it. That didn’t seem to make him feel any better, unfortunately. Somehow, they’d managed to stay friends, which Anne appreciated. Owing to the fact that she’d never really had any before coming to Avonlea, every loss was a blow.

“The mess will be here when you get back, and you have plenty of time to figure it out.”

“I want to spend more time with Marilla and Matthew before I go.”

“Marilla was the one who sent me up here to try to get you to come with us! Apparently, you’re driving her crazy; she says she’s practically stepping on you every time she turns around.”

Wow, okay. But . . . fair. She’d been feeling really emotional lately, the end of summer just barreling toward her, and maybe she’d been a tiny bit of a pest.

“I don’t know, D. I’m not much of a camper.”

“Pleeeeeease. With a cherry on top?”

Throwing her hands up, Anne caved to the inevitable. “Fine. I’ll go.”

“Don’t sound so excited about it,” Diana teased, extending a hand to pull Anne to her feet, then turned to the clothing piles that covered the bed. Digging through, she found what she was looking for, holding up in triumph a never worn, royal-blue bikini Anne had purchased in a moment of insanity.

“This comes with us.”

“No.”

“Absolutely. You kill in it. I don’t know why you refuse to wear it.”

Anne made a grab for it, but her best friend held it out of her grasp, using the extra inches of reach she had to her best advantage.

“Jane made me buy it. It was on clearance! I don’t wear it because no one wants to see that much pasty skin on display.”

“Noooope,” the other girl sang, still holding the swimsuit their mutual friend had badgered Anne into buying aloft with a grin. “Just because you aren’t blessed with the beauty of melanin like moi—seriously, you almost glow in the dark—it doesn’t mean you don’t look good in it.”

“Everyone on the beach will go snow-blind, and then I’ll just burn. You’ve seen it, you know it’s true!” Trying to keep her laughter in check, Anne gave up her attempt to steal the bikini back. “Okay, okay. I’ll wear it. But if I look like a tomato at the end of the weekend, I’m blaming you.”

“Sunscreen is a thing, you know.” Her friend rolled her eyes, rooting around the floor of the closet for the worn duffel Anne had packed for every sleepover at the Barrys’ house during the last six years. “Come on, let’s see what other cute things I can torture you into wearing this weekend.”

Which is how Anne came to be standing on the sand, in a pair of denim shorts cut several inches higher than she’d normally wear, and one of her best friend’s many designer T-shirts. Diana kept insisting that redheads could wear pink, it was all about the shade. Seeing as she was the rising fashion major of the two of them, Anne opted to finally take her advice. She fingered the edge of the pale rose-colored cotton, secretly pleased to be wearing a color she’d told herself was off-limits.

“Lookin’ good, Shirley,” someone called from behind her. Recognizing the lightly mocking tone, Anne’s back stiffened. Of course. Of course he would be here.

Turning away from her view of the ocean, she watched Gil climb the dune she stood on. They hadn’t seen each other much since graduation. He looked good, but then, he always did. Summer suited him, the sun had streaked his brown curls with dark gold and bronzed his skin. As he stepped up next to her, she caught a glimpse of annoyingly adorable freckles marching across his nose. Clearly, he’d managed to get time off from his part-time job at the ice cream shop and decided to join them for the last night. A rolled-up tent, closed camp chair, and oversized duffel bag leaned against his car like he’d dumped them there and walked directly to the dunes as soon as he arrived.

A discomforting sensation fluttered in her belly at the thought that maybe he’d done it because he’d seen her. Which was ridiculous, obviously. They just barely tolerated each other, a fact that exasperated their shared group of friends to no end.

“I didn’t know you were going to be here,” she said, cursing her lack of foresight in not asking Diana for a full list of kids who’d be camping out. It wasn’t like Gil’s presence would have kept her home, of course. But she’d have been better prepared to deal with the way he always seemed to knock her off-balance lately.

“But I knew you would be. Despite the threat of fresh air.”

Anne turned her head sharply at his words, but the hand closest to her blocked most of his expression as he shaded his eyes to look over the crowded beach. What exactly did that mean? Not that she was going to ask. Gil wouldn’t give her a straight answer, he never did. It was one of the more irritating things about him, how he always made her chase down answers. It wasn’t that she didn’t know what he was doing, driving her nuts for his own amusement, one of the reasons she’d been one of the few people in school who didn’t seem to have some sort of crush on him.

“Are you packed and ready for next week?” Gil asked idly, as he pulled a battered baseball cap out of his back pocket, unrolled it, and plopped it on Anne’s head. She started to protest, recognizing the hat from years of him wearing it practically everywhere, and God knows the last time he washed it, but he batted her hands away. “You’re gonna go up like an ant under a magnifying glass if you don’t figure out some cover this weekend, ghost girl. Hope you brought a bottle of SPF 1000.”

“Thanks, Dad, you know, I have been to the beach before.” She rolled her eyes but left the hat alone. It didn’t smell from a decade of sweat like she’d been afraid it would, all she got was the faintest whiff of laundry detergent. And she wouldn’t admit it, but the shade on her nose did feel good. It was hot enough her shirt was already sticking to her back, and she was starting to wonder why she was still standing here listening to Gil lecture her on sunscreen when she could be out there swimming in the cold Atlantic water instead. Swimming sounded like an excellent idea. Pulling an elastic off her wrist, she scooped up the hair spilling out from the bottom of the cap and twisted it into a messy bun.

After a moment of hesitation that made her fingers fumble at the hem of her shirt, Anne steeled her nerves and pulled it over her head, taking care not to dislodge the hat. Gil went still beside her as she popped open the button on her shorts and shucked them off in one movement. Scooping the clothing up, she balled the shorts together with her shirt, and shoved them toward him. Automatically he took the bundle, eyes still stuck somewhere south of her neck. Amusement suddenly bubbled up inside Anne, it was hard not to laugh at the way his gaze jerked up to her face again when she cleared her throat.

The faint pink spreading over his cheeks was both fascinating and hilarious.

“I’m going swimming.”

“Uh. Okay.”

“Can you just take my stuff back down with you and drop it off with Diana?”

“Yeah. Sure. I can do that. No problem.”

She was definitely going to laugh in his face if she didn’t leave soon. His usual smartass quips seemed to have deserted him. Who knew a bikini could scramble a boy’s brain so thoroughly, even Gil’s? Maybe Jane and Diana had been right after all, if the glazed-over look in his eyes was any indication. Turning, she allowed herself a private grin as she made her way down the dune, picking her way across hot sand toward the water. An itch between her shoulder blades made her look back, just as the foamy surf rolled up over her toes. Gil was still standing on top of the dune, watching her. He spun around when she gave a little wave, quickly disappearing down the other side. Anne finally gave in to the urge to snicker as she waded out into the ocean, telling herself it was the frigid waters of the North Atlantic that took her breath away and definitely not the arrested expression in his eyes when she’d shoved her clothes in his hands.

She didn’t examine the memory of that look when she watched him setting up his tent later, shirt tossed on the ground without care, the muscles in his back bunching as he pushed the poles into place. She didn’t think of it as he sat down next to her when the group gathered around the huge bonfire they’d built and offered her a slightly charred hot dog from his plate. And she definitely didn’t think about it when he wandered off to socialize after and a very tipsy Josie Pye put her hand on his bicep, giving it a squeeze as she flirted up at him through her lashes.

She did think about it, however, when he gently extracted himself from the other girl’s grip and his gaze collided with Anne’s across the fire. This time she couldn’t blame freezing water on the way the air in her lungs deserted her in a rush. His eyes narrowed, and one side of his mouth tipped up in a smile she recognized as a precursor to him doing or saying something that would get her all riled up. Except this time, it wasn’t annoyance that filled her, but something she’d never thought she’d feel for Gilbert Blythe.

A full-blown, rampant desire to kiss him until he couldn’t remember his own name.

Oh, no, no, this was totally unacceptable. He was awful and she didn’t like him.

Of course, she didn’t have to like him to want to kiss him.

When he set down the beer he’d been nursing for the last hour and started around the bonfire toward her, Anne pushed herself to her feet and escaped to the beach, determined to avoid him. Yes, it was the end of summer and they’d all be splitting off into a million different directions for college, but that didn’t mean she had to throw all good sense to the wind.

But she should have known he’d follow her. Gilbert Blythe never missed an opportunity to get under her skin.

Although, this time it felt different. She glanced over at him, but he wasn’t looking at her. He stood with his hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie, staring out at the water, eyebrows furrowed in thought. She chewed her bottom lip, confused by his silence, and even more by how comfortable it was. He’d been here almost two full minutes and they weren’t bickering. She wasn’t sure what to do with that. After a moment, she decided to leave it. She’d come out here to get some clean air, away from the bonfire smoke, not to talk. Especially not to talk to him.

Dark waves crashed against the shore, leaving a thin sheen of silver over the sand as they retreated. The cool, end of summer wind sent Anne’s hair flying in long ribbons behind her, and she wrapped her sweater around her torso just a little tighter. Tomorrow would be torture, dealing with the knots and tangles, but right now, she couldn’t bring herself to care all that much. Soon she’d be leaving this all behind to live in the city, and she wanted to soak up as much as she could.

A few more minutes passed, and she forgot her resolution to ignore him, the quiet between them finally making her fidgety. “It was so hot back there. I don’t know why they built the fire so high.” This was torturously awkward, searching for something innocuous to talk about. But she didn’t know how to navigate this uncharted territory, where they weren’t sniping at each other. “Smoke got to you too?”

“No.” Gil’s eyes locked on hers. The brilliant light from the full moon threw the sharp angles of his cheekbones into high relief, gilded the long, tousled curls that kept blowing into his eyes, and kissed the perfect bow of his upper lip in a way that sent desire shooting through her again. What a horrifying realization, that she wanted the one boy she needed to stay away from if she had even a shred of self-preservation.

“I came out here because you’re out here.” Then, if that wasn’t shocking enough, he did something else he’d never done before, and reached out to tangle his fingers with hers. Bringing their joined hands up to press a kiss along her knuckles.

She sucked in her breath, shocked as he smiled, no trace of the usual mockery behind it.

A storm of butterflies swirled in her belly, battering the inside of her rib cage. Frozen by the sight of him dropping air-light kisses on the back of her hand, she didn’t notice how far he’d gotten until he turned her arm over and rubbed his lips against her wrist. The intimacy of it, the potential exposure of how her pulse was hammering under his touch, had Anne jerking her arm out of reach. She pressed it to her chest without thought, struggling to clear her mind.

This was . . . what was he thinking? He lived to make her life difficult, he couldn’t possibly want this.

Except it seemed he did.

Even if Anne had ever expected Gil to kiss her, much less any part of her body besides her mouth, which of course she never had, the feel of his mouth against her skin would still have been overwhelming. The care he took, the delicacy in which he’d held her arm captive while exploring what little territory he could cover before she’d pulled away, was nothing like the clumsy fumblings of the few boys she’d let get close before. She didn’t know how to handle the weakness loosening her knees or the floaty feeling that was making it hard for her to concentrate.

Or the way he watched her with those coffee-colored eyes. Even in the pale light she could feel the intensity of their focus.

“Anne.” His voice was low, rough with an emotion she couldn’t name. Wasn’t sure she wanted to name.

This was ridiculous. This was Gil. He didn’t make her shiver and want to be touched; he was a thorn in her side. An annoyance. A nuisance. Stepping back, she sent him a wide smile that felt just this side of manic. “I should go back. Diana will probably think I wandered into the surf and drowned.”

“I doubt she’s going to notice anything for a while, she left the fire with Hannah,” he said, that annoying dimple deepening. “You might just have a tent to yourself tonight, if that’s what you want.”

The image of him lying back on her sleeping bag, the taut muscles of his naked abs flexing under her fingers, flashed through her mind. A flush heated her cheeks at that thought, so strong there was a distinct possibility of passing out. It was like the campsite bonfire had taken up residence inside her body.

Make good choices, Anne Shirley.

“Good for her. For them. That’s been a long time coming.” She gathered what was left of her rational mind, keeping her voice as distant as possible, not acknowledging the insinuation in his words. This whole thing had taken a sharp left turn and she desperately needed to get them back on familiar ground. “I thought Hannah would never notice she was being aggressively flirted with.”

“Funny how that happens more than you’d think.” Gil took a step in her direction, the controlled, fluid way he moved in contrast with the idle tone he used. She reflexively moved backward in response, recognizing the danger at allowing him within arm’s reach again. Danger of losing her mind and wrestling him to the ground, maybe.

The way he watched her set off warning pings in her brain. It was a struggle to remember what they’d been talking about before he began to stalk her across the sand. And she needed to get it together. She wasn’t the kind of girl to be chased around a beach, driven silly by lust for a boy she could hardly stand. Okay, she would admit he’d made her laugh once or twice lately without her wanting to hit him in his smug face with a notebook again. But that didn’t mean she wanted to spend any sort of prolonged time in his company. Drawing up her shoulders, Anne blew out a breath and halted her absurd backward progress. It was time to put a stop to this insanity and—

Without warning Gil was in front of her, his dark silhouette blocking out the moonlight.

She swallowed, gaze drawn upward to meet his, forgetting what she’d been about to do. Their bodies were close enough now that she could feel the warmth emanating off him, right through his Avonlea Prep hoodie. His hands closed around her upper arms, reeling her in slow enough for her to protest, if she really wanted to. But she didn’t say a word, even though she knew she should, and then suddenly they were pressed together from knees to belly. Her hands kept their chests apart just a few vital inches, trapped between the two of them, clenched into fists because what was she supposed to do now?

Touch his shoulders?

His chest?

She was without a doubt out of her depth now, and it made her uneasy. Gil always called her bossy, said she always had to be the one in charge, and he wasn’t exactly wrong. Per se. It was just . . . loss of control was very hard for her.

The moment stretched out and Anne realized he was waiting for her to look up. When she finally raised her eyes, she almost jerked away, his gaze was so intense. It dawned on her that the rapid beating of a pulse against her fists wasn’t hers. It was his. And that was oddly reassuring, to know he was as affected by this as she was. Whatever this strange thing that was happening to them, she wasn’t alone in it. Tentatively, she spread her fingers, finally letting her palms rest against the hard planes of his chest. It was almost imperceptible, the way he twitched when she touched him, but she felt it. His fingers flexed once, pressing into the flesh of her upper arms.

Maybe she wasn’t as powerless as she’d thought.

She stilled, thinking, a ribbon of curiosity winding its way through her. In experimentation, Anne let her hands slide downward just a bit, the thick cotton of his hoodie shifting as he held himself in check while she explored. After looking up to make sure she had Gil’s complete attention, she slowly pulled the zipper of his sweatshirt down. He made the most interesting sound when she slid her fingers around to his back and eased up under the edge of his T-shirt to touch bare skin. The knowledge that she, of all people, had caused that reaction in him made her bold. As she brushed her thumbs across the rigid muscles along his spine, she leaned in, just far enough that her breasts pressed against his front.

The way his whole body jerked made her smile.

With a choked laugh, Gil reached back and captured her hands, pulling them down to their sides and lacing their fingers together again. Anne’s breath stuttered as he bent his head, stopping only a whisper away from her lips.

Gaze trained on her mouth, he murmured, “You should probably stop me now.”

A little voice in the back of her mind agreed, absolutely, 100 percent, she probably should, but the rest of her was dizzy with wanting him too much to care about the unavoidable fallout.

“I’d rather not.”

“You sure? Because—”

He came out here after her, clearly with this in mind, and now he was backing off? Honestly, some days she just wanted to strangle him.

“For God’s sake, kiss me already.” Out of patience, Anne yanked one hand free, wove her fingers into the curls at the base of his head, and tugged him down toward her lips.

Without another word, Gil closed the gap, taking her mouth with an urgency that shocked her.

Letting go of her other hand, his fingers dropped to grip her hips, holding her in place. They dove deep into the kiss, pushing forward, then retreating, but never ceding ground. Anne rose on her toes as he broke away, his kiss-swollen lips tracing a path across her skin to the sensitive place just under her ear. The squeak she let out when he bit there, then sucked on the tender flesh, would have been embarrassing if she had any sense of pride at that moment. But she was too absorbed in getting her hands on as much bare skin under his shirt as she could to worry about it. One of his hands left her hip to tangle in her mass of loose hair. Tugging her head back for better access to the column of her neck, Gil’s grip tightened when her fingernails spasmed into the muscles just above his ass. Mind hazy, she was wondering how much she’d regret sand-burn the next morning when he spoke again, his lips moving across the skin of her throat.

“Finally—proof you do like me. I knew you couldn’t hold out forever.”

Anne came back to herself with a thud, blood turning to ice in her veins. For years, Gil had insisted that she liked him and was just too stubborn to admit it, and she did her best to convince him that, no, she really did think he was just that irritating.

So, was all of the flirting and tender kisses only about winning their six-year standoff, because Gil couldn’t stand the idea that not everyone who met him fell in love with him instantly? Was this a game to him? Did he feel smug right now, that she’d kissed him back, that she’d exposed exactly how much she wanted him in this moment?

She was so naive to think this could be anything else.

Mortification burned as she tore herself from his arms and wrapped her own arms tight across her stomach to contain a lurch of nausea. Gil stumbled back, the genuine confusion on his face making her want to kick him in the shin. Hard. It must be mind-blowing to him that there might be a girl who wouldn’t fall for him the moment he kissed her. Anne felt sick that she’d almost, almost been that girl. Nearly allowed him to keep kissing her, to touch her body, to go even further than that—she should have known it was about settling the score between them once and for all before they both left Avonlea.

The relief that she’d never have to see him again after tomorrow was dizzying.

When he reached out to take her hand, forehead creased in consideration, Anne backed away swiftly. “No,” she said, ignoring the tears creating a lump in her throat. It was unthinkable she’d allow him to ever see her that vulnerable now. “I’m going back to the tent. I’m . . . I’m tired.”

“You’re tired.” He repeated her words slowly, like they were a puzzle he was trying to piece together.

“That’s what I said.” It came out sharper than she’d have liked, the edges a little wobbly, but neutral was so far beyond manageable now.

His gaze narrowed, searching her face. Whatever he found there didn’t seem to be what he was expecting, his lips flattening into a tight line as he locked eyes with her again.

“Did I do something wrong?”

Oh, so he was going to keep up the pretense this wasn’t all just for the satisfaction of winning? It was infuriating how close she’d been to letting him have that victory.

“This—” She made an abrupt gesture between the two of them. “This was a mistake, and not one I plan on repeating.”

A cloud slid across the moon, dimming the silver light just enough that she couldn’t be sure if the flinch she thought she saw was just a trick from some foolish part inside her still hoping she’d misunderstood, or not. But when the shadow passed, his body was once again relaxed into the sort of lazy arrogance so familiar to her. Hands that had only moments before been pressing her body against his had found their way into the frayed pockets of jeans, casual, as if nothing in the world could bother him. His transformation back into the Gilbert Blythe she knew, confident and self-satisfied, the kind of boy who would never even think about kissing her, had been near instantaneous. She hadn’t realized how much that would hurt.

“You said you wanted to go back, let’s go back.” He caught her staring and threw a smirk her way, his brown eyes cool. “Good call, really. That would have been awkward in the morning.”

Bastard. She should have known better. She did know better; this was what she got for ignoring her instincts.

“Happy to save you from that horrifying situation,” she muttered, stomping away as well as she could when the sand kept shifting under her feet, her sights locked on the distant pillar of smoke from the bonfire.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw him flip his hood up, moonlight-gilded profile disappearing from sight. “I mean, I wouldn’t gothatfar. But you have to admit, we’re the last two people anyone would imagine hooking up. Us together? It would be a disaster, obviously.”

That stung, even though she agreed.

“You know, I’m not really in the mood to talk.” Why had she wandered so far down the beach? The trip back was interminable as he matched her stride, never letting her outpace him. Irritated, and eager to escape his company, Anne ignored her burning calves and pushed herself to move faster, but he still refused to drop back.

Because of course he did.

They couldn’t even walk without it becoming a competition, for God’s sake.

Flat sand gave way to the swell of the dunes finally, the sound of laughter intertwined with music becoming clearer as they approached the campsite. Light from the bonfire just out of sight beyond the hills made crazy shadows dance along to the song blaring from someone’s car. At the start of the path cut between the two grassy humps that would bring them back to the others, Anne halted and drew in a deep breath, needing a moment to compose herself.

She would rather throw herself into the ocean than let him see how upset she was.

Gil slowed to a stop next to her, his face unreadable within the darkness of his hood. She hadn’t realized how many of his expressions she knew until she searched this one and came up empty. The tiniest, slightest, near microscopic sliver of doubt wormed its way in. Did she overreact?

But maybe she should check. Just to be sure. That way she could have a clear conscience for shutting him down like that, not even a bit of wiggle room for uncertainty, and she would know without question he was at fault for this entire fiasco.

“So that was a mistake, right? Definitely a mistake,” she said, cautiously, searching his expression as she did. All that got her was a weird look, like he thought she was just messing with him now.

“Yeah, I think we covered that. Definitely a mistake.”

“Right. Obviously.”

Anne gritted her teeth. Okay. Good. Now she could forget the whole thing had ever happened. Still, it was harder than she’d thought it’d be to force a smile. Making the decision to be the bigger person, and to take back control of the situation, she stuck her hand out in a gesture of civility.

For one long moment Gil just looked at it, then back up to her.

“No one knows what just happened. Or almost happened,” she qualified, continuing to hold her hand out steady. “We tell no one. I think we can both agree it would be incredibly embarrassing if any of our friends found out.”

“Jesus, Anne. You really are something, you know that?” Partially turning away, Gil shoved his hood back to scrub one hand through his hair. She ignored the part where he gave it a short, sharp tug. What was he all cranky about? Everything was back to normal now and they could erase this night from their memories, if he would only just shake her hand.

“I’m only trying to come up with a solution that works for us both.”

“Right.” He let out an incredulous huff of laughter. “I’m not going to fuckingshake on it, like a business deal. I guess you’ll just have to trust me, impossible as that probably sounds to you.”

The bitterness in his voice made her chest tight. Why did he have to make this even worse by being so disagreeable? She bit back a reply that would probably just send them into a new round of bickering. There was a headache brewing behind her eyes and she just wanted to be done. Just . . . done.

It must have come through on her face, despite her silence, because Gil’s jaw clenched tight as he let out an explosive hiss of air. Then he turned his back on her and walked away without another word.

Which was fine. This was what she wanted.

That was what she needed.

So why did it feel so awful?