“Seattle isn’t a distraction, Hardin,” I reply softly. “It is. You’re only pushing it so much to prove a point.” It’s amazing how his tone can change from soothing to ice in a matter of seconds. I look out the window. “Can we please stop talking about Seattle? Nothing is changing: you don’t want to go, and I do. I’m sick of going around and around about it.” He pulls his hand away, and I turn back to him. “Fine, what do you suggest we do, then? You go to Seattle without me? How long do you think we would last? A week? A month?” His eyes regard me coolly, and I shiver. “We could make it work if
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God then fucking leave him
