“Then don’t,” he said against my skin. “Give me another chance.”
I tried to push myself out from under him, but his grip was too solid for any possibility of escape. I covered my face with both hands as my quiet sobs shook us both. Travis looked up at me, his eyes heavy and wet.
With his large, gentle fingers, he pulled my hand away from my eyes and kissed my palm. I took a staggered breath as he looked at my lips and then back to my eyes. “I’ll never love anyone the way I love you, Pigeon.”
I sniffed and touched his face. “I can’t.”
“I know,” he said, his voice broken. “I never once convinced myself that I was good enough for you.”
My face crumpled and I shook my head. “It’s not just you, Trav. We’re not good for each other.”
He shook his head, wanting to say something, but thinking better of it. After a long, deep breath, he rested his head against my chest. When the green numbers on the clock across the room read eleven o’clock, Travis’ breaths finally slowed and evened out. My eyes grew heavy, and I blinked a few times before slipping out of consciousness.
“Ow!” I yelped, pulling my hand from the stove and automatically nursing the burn in my mouth.
“You okay, Pidge?” Travis asked, shuffling across the floor and slipping a t-shirt over his head. “Shit! The floors fucking freezing!” I stifled a giggle as I watched him hop on one foot and then the other until the soles of his feet acclimated to the frigid tile.
The sun barely peeked through the blinds, and the rest of the Maddox’s were sleeping soundly in their beds. I pushed the antique tin pan further into the oven and then closed the door, turning to cool my fingers under the sink.
“You can go back to bed. I just had to put the turkey in.”
“Are you coming to bed?” he asked, wrapping his arms around his chest to ward off the chill in the air.
“Yeah.”
“Lead the way,” he said, sweeping his hand toward the stairs.
Travis yanked his shirt off as we both shoved our legs under the covers, pulling the blanket up to our necks. He tightened his arms around me as we shivered, waiting for our body heat to warm the small space between our skin and the covers.
I felt his lips against my hair, and then his throat moved when he spoke. “Look, Pidge. It’s snowing.”
I turned to face the window. The white flakes were only visible in the glow of the street lamp. “It kind of feels like Christmas,” I said, my skin finally warming up against his. He sighed and I turned to see his expression. “What?”
“You won’t be here for Christmas.”
“I’m here, now.” He pulled his mouth up on one side and leaned down to kiss my lips. I leaned back and shook my head. “Trav….”
His grip tightened and he lowered his chin, his chestnut eyes determined. “I’ve got less than twenty-four hours with you, Pidge. I’m gonna kiss you. I’m gonna kiss you a lot today. All day. Every chance I get. If you want me to stop, just say the word, but until you do, I’m going make every second of my last day with you count.”
“Travis—,” I thought about it for a moment, and I reasoned that he was under no disillusionment about what would happen when he took me home. I had come there to pretend, and as hard as it would be for us both later, I didn’t want to tell him no.