After the Fall

just needed to talk it over. Get on the same page. If he didn’t like to tie himself down to anything, then he’d understand, wouldn’t he? This was probably all in my head. If I was balking at the idea of this being more than sex-’til-November, then he probably felt the same way.
    Ryan lifted himself up and met my eyes. “You okay? You seem kind of . . . elsewhere all of a sudden.”
    I broke eye contact, watching my fingers trace the edges of his tattoo.
    “Nathan?” He turned my chin so I had very little choice but to look at him. “Just talk to me.”
    I tried to hold his gaze, but that reminded me of the way we’d held each other’s gazes while we’d fucked— still can’t admit that was making love, can you? —and I broke eye contact. “I need to know what we’re doing.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “I mean, we started out as friends. Then we started sleeping together. But we’ve never really talked about . . . about if it’s only sex, or . . .”
    “Or more?”
    I nodded. “Yeah.”
    “What do you think?” he asked. “Do you think what we’re doing . . . is it . . .”
    His hopeful tone made my stomach want to fold in on itself.
    Oh God. Oh God, no, let’s not go there.
    I gulped. “Is it what?”
    Ryan shrugged, avoiding my eyes. “I’m not even sure. I’ve dated a few guys here and there, fooled around a little, but this . . .” He lifted his gaze again. “This seems different.”
    No. No, no, no . . . Ryan . . .
    “It does,” I admitted. “But does that—”
    “If you’re asking if I have feelings for you beyond sex,” he said quickly, “the answer is yes.”
    Fuck. Damn it.
    “You . . . really?”
    He nodded, some color blooming in his cheeks. The way he slowly pulled in a breath, I knew what was coming. I knew damn well what was coming. I could almost hear the words already ringing in my ears.
    “Wait.” I put a hand on his chest. “I’m . . . Ryan, I can’t.”
    He blinked. “What?”
    “I’m sorry. I can’t do this. Sex is fine, but I can’t give you anything beyond that. Not . . . not now.”
    He pulled back a little, slowly releasing his breath. “Oh.”
    “I’m sorry. I’ve just had—”
    “To be honest,” he broke in, his tone cold as he sat up, “I’m not really interested in why.”
    I swallowed. “Uh. Okay.”
    “If you don’t want to do this, then . . .” He shrugged, his taut expression chipping away at his indifferent exterior. “Then let’s call it off and move on.”
    I stared at him. I had no idea what to say to that.
    He leaned down and picked up his shirt. “I’m going to go.”
    I was still speechless. Things like this usually ended with screaming and with slamming doors, or at least some emotional pleading and arguing, and I didn’t understand this. I didn’t know what to make of his abrupt, quiet—if chilly—acceptance.
    Ryan stood and picked up his clothes. He pulled on his jeans but carried his shoes and his shirt, and he also didn’t fully turn around as he spoke over his shoulder. “Take care, Nathan.”
    “Yeah. I will. Uh, you too.”
    “I will.”
    And just like that, without a single protest or But, are you sure? he was gone. Just . . . gone. Out the bedroom door, down the hall, out of my apartment, and down those stairs that he’d helped me up and down so fucking many times. I didn’t hear the truck, but after a few minutes had passed, I was pretty sure if I looked outside I wouldn’t see that old black pickup in the guest spot.
    I rubbed a hand over my face and cursed under my breath. This shouldn’t have happened that fast. Ripping off the bandage was sometimes the most painless thing, but this should have been . . . I didn’t know. Slower? More drawn out? It had ended too quickly. Too simply. Far too abruptly. It seemed unfinished, though it was definitely finished.
    Ryan was gone. Of course he was. I’d awkwardly and not very eloquently told him what I should have told him a dozen fucks ago. Before things had had a chance to get this far. I’d finally said it, and now he was gone. I’d thought maybe we could be friends or something, but . . .
    “If you don’t want to do this, then let’s call it off and move on .”
    This was how it had to be. Sooner or later, Ryan would get restless and leave Tucker Springs, which meant that no matter how this conversation had gone, sooner or later, he’d be gone. Better to let him go now before I became either something he left behind or something he