My lips twitched, and like a moth to a flame, his eyes fell to my mouth.
“I suppose you’d be okay with me asking you the same question?”
“You could,” he said matter-of-factly as he began pacing the room. “And I would give you the only answer that mattered: more than one.”
My lips twisted in a grimace. “How is that the only answer that matters?”
“It just is!”
I threw my hands out to the sides in frustration. “Fine. I’ve been with less than five. Does that help?”
Hope flooded his eyes. “So, like, two, including me?”
I swayed my head from side to side in consideration. “So, maybe it’s less than six now.”
“Oh, God.” He pinched his nose and dropped his head back to stare at the ceiling.
“Jesus Christ, Henry. You’re openly gay. It seems a little hypocritical for you to be judging me for sleeping with a few guys. Why does it matter?”
Lowering his head, he leveled me with the most tormented expression I had ever witnessed. And not just from Henry, but in my entire life.
“You were supposed to be straight!” He stabbed his thumb into his chest. “I was supposed to be the exception—not number fucking five.”
It started in his fingers. Then the tiniest of twitches traveled through him until it became an all out tremor. And, seconds later, his chest heaved and a red flush swept its way up his neck.
I was pissed, but I couldn’t just stand there and allow a panic attack to overtake him. With two long strides, I closed the distance between us. His body jumped in surprise as I folded an arm around his hips and pulled him against me. Cupping the back of his head, I tucked his face into my neck.
“Take a deep breath. This is nothing to get worked up about. I’m right here.”
His arms fell to his sides, but he didn’t melt into me. We were inches apart, but he felt more like a stranger than he had the day I’d met him. It was all wrong. But it was a feeling I knew all too well.
It was the end.
And, once again, I was helplessly holding on to a man who had already let me go.
Wrenching my eyes shut, I started counting. I pretended that it was for him, but suddenly, he wasn’t the only one panicking.
“Ten, nine, eight.” I kissed his temple and murmured, “We’re okay.”
His heart slamming in his chest said otherwise.
“Seven, six, five.” I squeezed him until he was plastered to my front. “Catch your breath and we’ll talk. Everything is fine.”
He shook his head, but I ignored it. Or, at least, I tried—my pulse skyrocketed.
“Four, three, two—”
“Don’t say one,” he pleaded. “Just don’t say it. Not yet.”
I nodded, pressing my lips to his temple again, this time letting them linger.
And then, for several minutes, I held him impossibly tight. Slowly, his breathing returned to normal and his trembles stilled. However, there was nothing I could do to calm myself. Every minute we stood there, a ball of fire grew in my chest.
That embrace burned like a goodbye.
And I was helpless to extinguish it.
We hadn’t even talked yet, but Henry was checking out.
He wouldn’t magically disappear when I let go.
But I knew he wouldn’t be there, either.
“You’re bisexual?” he finally asked my neck.
I sighed. “Something like that.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
I leaned my head away to get a read on his face, but he followed me forward, unwilling to look me in the eye. “I figured it was fairly obvious after I kissed you at the concert.”
“It probably should have been. But you were so skittish at first…”
I cleared the emotion from my throat. “I had…a…really bad relationship with a man. I vowed not to repeat the process.”
“Oh, God. It wasn’t just sex, then? You actually dated men?”
“Just one,” I whispered.
His body immediately stiffened.
I hadn’t meant to say the word that would end the countdown.
And I definitely hadn’t meant to end the shortest yet most poignant relationship of my life.
And, more than all of that, I’d had no idea how deeply that single solitary word would wound him.
“One,” he whispered as though it were a confirmation.
“Please don’t do this.” I fought to hold on to him, but he struggled out of my arms. “Just talk to me. What are you so scared of?”
His hand was already on the doorknob when he froze. The crack of his voice was agonizing. “You.”
“Henry!” I called, but he was out the door and jogging down my driveway before I could stop him.
His car wasn’t out front anymore, but he didn’t slow as he rounded the corner onto the main street.
“Shit,” I cursed, rushing back inside to grab my shirt and my keys before taking off after him barefoot.