“I have no clue yet,” he tells me bluntly. “But when I do, it will be alone.”
After what we just shared, after he called me beautiful, and after he said what we had was amazing… well, I’ll have to admit this is a crushing statement to hear. I mean, it’s not like I’m already planning my life with him, but his words are clear in their meaning that I am nothing more to him than a temporary measure.
A diversion, I guess, to while away his time.
“I get it,” I say softly but with acceptance. “This is just a fling, so to speak.”
“Label it how you want,” he says gently, but there is no mistaking his commitment to what he’s saying. “But you need to know I’m leaving soon and, because of that, this has an expiration date on it. If that’s not something you want to get tangled up in, I’d understand that.”
I hate this conversation, but I ask for clarification, “So we’ll have a sexual relationship with an expiration date? I think what you’re saying is that you’re afraid my heart will get tied up in this, so you want to prepare me right off the bat that you’ve got nothing to give in that department, right?”
“Pretty much,” he says bluntly, but then tempers it with, “But we’re friends, Jane. That hasn’t changed.”
“Oh, you mean the type of friends who won’t stay in contact once you leave, right?” My sarcasm is unmistakable.
Kyle doesn’t respond, just stares at me guardedly. Yes, the blush of pleasure is gone and Kyle is down to business. Which means I need to pull my heart out of the equation right now. I have to give him some small measure of credit… at least he is trying to prevent me from getting hurt.
And I know Kyle could totally hurt me down the road.
For that reason, I need to use caution and careful, reasoned thought.
“Let me think about it,” I tell him with truthful candor. “This is a lot for me to consider.”
He blinks slowly as he takes in my words, and I can tell he didn’t expect that. In fact, I can tell he fully expected me to open my arms to him and tell him I’m fine with him having sex with me for the next few months, then we’d both sort of ignore the fact I was falling hard for him. We both know that’s probably how he thought it would go down because, let’s face it… I’m the one who has pursued him from the start.
But I’m really not sure I can handle the limits he’s put in place. While I’ve acted quite impulsively when it has come to Kyle, I need to heed his warning and think very hard about what it would mean to be involved with him and the boundaries he’s laying down. It’s not going to be an easy decision to make, and I’m going to carefully guard my heart throughout all of this.
CHAPTER 18
Kyle
I walk into The Lobster Cage, and my eyes take a few moments to adjust to the dimness. There aren’t any windows in this place; half the lights are burned out and the ones that are lit are on their last leg. The best illumination comes from the handful of neon beer signs hanging on the walls around the joint, casting glowing patches of red and blue depending on the brand of beer they advertise.
It’s starting to get crowded as The Lobster Cage actually serves decent bar food. The single fisherman will eat here while pounding a few beers after a hard day’s work.
That’s why I’m here actually.
To get a semi-decent meal and pound a few beers.
Or forty.
It’s been three days since I walked out of Jane’s house and she said she’d think about what type of relationship she could handle with me. In hindsight, I’m probably a stupid motherfucker for even saying anything. What we had that night… what we did together… it was some amazing shit unlike anything I’ve had before. I’m pretty sure it was the same for her. If I’d have kept my mouth shut, I’d probably be with her right now instead of in this dingy bar with twenty men who smell like salt and fish.
I take an empty barstool, and Gus meanders over to me.
“Haven’t seen you around in a while,” he says conversationally.
I don’t respond to his observation because I’m not feeling conversational. “I’ll take a draft beer and some nachos.”
He grunts in acknowledgment, not in the slightest put out by my brush-off. He’s used to dealing with all types of people, including the surly, anti-social types. He quietly pours my beer and sets it in front of me, then heads off to put my order into the back kitchen where I think his wife works the grill.
I watch the muted TV above the bar while I wait for my food. It’s a baseball game, which isn’t really my sport, but I watch it in silence and sip at my beer.
The nachos come and they’re not bad. Much better than the plain ham sandwiches I’d been having. I have a second beer with my meal.