Before Thirty

39. Gwen

"Long distance?" Blake's tone is neutral and hard to read. "I've been thinking about it too."

"Not long distance. At least, I hope it wouldn't be." I rise onto my elbow to stare down at him. "I applied to Doctors International as part of their supply chain management team. If I get it, I could come to the DRC. I don't know if we'd be—"

"You what?" Blake cuts me off, and his tone is no longer neutral. It's icy. He draws away from me to sit on the edge of the bed. "Please tell me this is a joke."

"Why... Why would it be a joke?" I can barely get the words out around the lump in my throat. The change in him is so swift, so disarming, I'm not sure how to get him back.

"No," he says, slashing a hand through the air, but he's still not facing me. "Absolutely not. No."

"I could do the job," I say, indignant, forgetting momentarily about how high the stakes are in this moment. "I'm actually quite good at supply chain management."

"If you're doing this in some misguided bid to follow me—don't."

"It's not misguided. Travel, work, and you. It's perfect. Think about it—"

"There's no 'me' if you take this job." He glances at me over his shoulder, and then he stands up, strides over to his discarded clothes and tugs on his boxers. "I don't want you there, Gwen."

Tears pool in my eyes, and we stare at each other in the semi-darkness, slivers of light coming through the half-closed curtains. Why would he say that?

"You don't mean that," I say. He can't. Whether he'll admit it or not, he looks at me like I matter, like he cares. A few short hours ago, he was telling me we could figure out a way to make things work between us. But when I offer him the best way to do that, he says no? No matter what way I look at it, his frosty attitude makes no sense.

"I do mean it." His jaw is like granite. "You cannot follow me."

"I love you," I choke out, unable to stop myself. "And I want this job. I don't understand why you're saying this to me."

"For how long?" His hands are on his hips. "You've told me so many times that love for you is transient and unreliable and as changeable as the wind. You're not throwing your life away on something that won't last. None of your relationships do, right?"

His words sting, and for the first time in a really long time, I feel like I don't know him at all. Blake has never once been cruel or mocked me for my flightiness. He's always been patient or amused by my spontaneity. This time, he's on the attack, or maybe it's defense, but whatever it is, I don't want like it, barely recognize him.

"I have never felt for anyone what I feel for you," I say, trying to keep my voice steady when all I want to do is run to him and cling on for dear life. If I let myself lose control like I want to, we'll end here, tonight. I can feel it. Somehow, even as cracks spider across my heart, I can't let myself shatter.

The briefest glimmer of anguish crosses his face before he squashes it, but it's enough to bolster me. His words don't match how he feels. Earlier today, his actions and words were in sync. They aren't now, and I take a deep breath, trying to figure out how to save us.

"Who's Diana?" I ask on impulse, following an instinct.

"What?" Blake rears back.

"Does this..." I wave my hand at him. "Does whatever this is have something to do with how she broke your heart? I'm not going to break your heart, Blake." My bottom lip trembles, and I suck in a shaky breath. "And I don't want you to break mine either. We can be together. I know we can."