Too Long: Hayes Brothers Book 6

THE MORNING SUN peeks through the curtains, casting a golden hue across the room. It warms my face but does nothing to thaw the chill surrounding my heart.

Colt’s sleeping beside me, though at a distance. No contact, no cuddling. I fell asleep with my back to him so he wouldn’t see the tears sliding down my cheeks.

He looks so peaceful, so untroubled, and for a moment, I’m tempted to trace my fingers along the outline of his lips one last time to memorize the feel of him. But I don’t.

No need to further twist the blade.

I shift, trying to slip out from under the covers without rousing him, but his eyes open and his head turns my way, glaring at the distance between us.

“Morning,” I whisper, too scared to speak up in case my voice breaks, then quickly add, “Thank you, and I’m sorry.”

His jaw tightens, eyes close briefly, and then he breathes out heavily as he reaches over, pulling me into him. A slight shudder shakes me when he puts my leg over his thighs, my hand over his ribs, and my head under his chin.

“Stop apologizing,” he says, kissing my head as he holds me tight. “It was the best week of my life, Addie.”

I close my eyes, breathing him in. For a moment, I can almost pretend everything’s okay.

Almost.

I don’t move for a long time, soaking up his closeness. I don’t speak either, reveling in the feel of his fingers brushing up and down my arm.

He breaks the silence after one more kiss on my head. “We should get moving. Amara won’t be pleased if we’re late for the last task.”

I nod, pushing my hair behind my ear as I haul myself up, everything inside me rebelling against walking away from him, but one step at a time, I do.

The next few hours pass in a blur. We barely speak, lost in our heads while we eat breakfast and play the last game. It’s a sack race. Simple. Silly. But neither of us have heart or head in it and—predictably—we lose.

The Miami coastline looms in the distance as noon strikes. We head back to suite seventeen to pack our suitcases in silence, chasing our own thoughts.

I steal glances at Colt, my heart aching with every folded shirt and each pair of trousers he puts away. I’m so destabilized I hardly notice when we dock. I say my goodbyes to everyone through a dense fog. I’m not sure what I say or who I say things to as I’m passed from embrace to embrace.

My heart rams in my chest louder once Colt and I descend onto the marina, Felix, a few steps ahead, pushing a trolley with our suitcases stacked high.

I’m shaking all over once we stop by the limo and the time comes to say goodbye. “I’m staying with my parents for a few more days,” I mumble, forcing the words out, eyes on the ground instead of Colt’s face.

My vision’s blurry, tears threatening to spill, my lungs at half their normal capacity.

“That’s good,” he says quietly. “Your dad’s missed you, and you’ve not had much time together this week.”

I can tell he’s relieved we don’t have another eight hours together in awkward silence. I think he needs space as much as I do.

A lump forms in my throat, making it hard to breathe. I’m so cold, despite the summer sunshine tanning my skin. So empty inside as I climb onto my toes to kiss his lips one last time.

Just a peck. Just to remember his taste and etch the shape of his mouth into my memory.

But it’s not just a peck. Colt seizes the moment, his hands cradling my face as he kisses me back, sinking deeper. It’s a kiss that says everything we can’t put into words. A goodbye neither one of us wants or knows how to voice.

The world fades until he pulls away, stamping a warm, firm kiss on my forehead.

This is it.

The air between us crackles with tension, unsaid words, and a universe of regret. I’m tempted to beg him to stay, throw caution to the wind, and hold onto him with everything I have, but I know that’s not fair to either of us.

The finality hits me like a punch to the gut. This isn’t how it was supposed to end. I hoped it would never end, but life has a way of shattering expectations.

“Take care of yourself, baby,” he says, running his knuckles down my cheek.

And then he’s climbing into the limo and the driver closes the door behind him. I stand there, staring at the black, tinted windows as the car pulls away, everything inside me cracking and breaking, screaming and crying.

It’s not until my dad grabs my shoulders, spins me around, and hides me in his arms that I realize I’m not just crying inside.