What I Want

Avery has never had trouble being wanted. The problem is that she's the one who never wants to be kept.

At twenty-six, she's built her life on almost-relationships and temporary connections-men who stay just long enough to feel real, then get left behind before anything deeper can take root. She tells herself it's easier this way. That letting people stay only leads to losing more than she's willing to give.

Then she meets Gabe.

He isn't like the others. He doesn't chase her the way they do. He doesn't fall easily. He sees straight through her careful detachment-and still looks at her like she's something he can't quite let go of.

There's just one problem: he doesn't let himself want her.

Not fully. Not freely. Not in the way she can feel him holding back every time they're in the same room.

And Avery should be relieved. She should keep it surface level. Keep it temporary. Keep him at the same distance she keeps everyone else.

But she can feel it anyway-the tension, the restraint, the almost-confessions sitting between them like something neither of them is willing to name.

Because the more she tries to pull away, the more impossible it becomes to ignore the fact that Gabe isn't the only one resisting staying.