If nothing else, the convention was a great way for me to test my strength to work through a migraine.

The pounding headache had started promptly at seven a.m. when I walked into the hotel conference room, already filled with various upper level Singer-Paulson employees. I hated the schmoozing, the oh-so careful bragging, the copious amounts of slightly offensive banter.

As an openly gay man in the company, I had always hated gathering with the older partners. I imagined it was worse for the women here, the faint vein of sexism obvious by the fact that the event was at least eighty percent men. I would be happy to grit my teeth and get the hell out of Dodge as soon as possible.

Now that the meetings were over, all we had left was the terrible after-work drinks in the hotel’s bar and then first thing tomorrow, I’d be on a plane back to Chicago. The six hour drive wasn’t worth it, not when I could be there in forty minutes on the company’s dime. Especially when as soon as I got back, I would get to see Jimmy.

I couldn’t believe how great things were with Jim. We’d been together almost three weeks and every day was somehow better. Even when we didn’t see each other except a brush of arms in the office or a text goodnight. My life felt so much fuller with him around.

We were going to have to come clean to HR soon. I wasn’t going to be able to keep up the charade much longer.

I slid my phone out of my pocket and sent him a quick missing you text, sliding it back into my jacket pocket when I saw a few of the guys from the California branch come over. Dave was basically the me of the L.A. department. He leaned against the bar, held out two fingers, and turned to give me a once over.

“Chicago treats you well, Cannon.”

I accepted the beer that he offered when the bartender brought them over. “Thanks. Seems like L.A.’s not too bad for you.”

He shrugged a shoulder, but his smooth grin was still in place. We tended to stick together at these events and I knew for a fact Dave loved living in L.A.

“So, how have you been?” Dave asked, scanning the crowd.

I went to answer but my phone buzzed and I pulled it out, grinning down at it.

From: Jimmy XX

I would much prefer it if you were back already. My bed is too large.

My cheeked heat up. Dave started to lean over to read and I tried to hurriedly click out.

I wasn't fast enough, he saw the message and let out a low laugh and wolf-whistle. “Damn, Cannon. Who’s the lucky broad?”

“Not a broad,” I corrected quickly, trying to stamp down on the annoyance. Business trips meant constantly coming out or dealing with jokes about women. I was pretty sure I’d already told Dave I was gay, too.

Still, he spluttered as if this was news to him. I waited the obligatory few seconds for him to get his grounding. “Oh, well. Okay. Who is the lucky—dude?”

I would have rolled my eyes but the flushing of my cheeks gave away my position. I wasn’t half as unaffected as I would have been pretending. “He’s—nice. We’re sort of dating.”

“Sort of?” Dave asked, drinking from his beer again.

“Well, yeah. He’s from the Boston branch and—”

Dave spluttered again, this time beer dribbling out of his mouth. He wiped across his mouth with his sleeve, looking at me incredulously. “Wait, the Boston branch? Like from the merger?”

I frowned at his reaction but nodded. “Yeah, yeah. I mean, I know, HR nightmare, but it’s not like we met at work first. Funny story, actually—”

“Dude, are you insane?” Dave sat his beer down on the bar top and grabbed my shoulder.

My eyes widened at his intensity. “I—don’t think so?”

“You know that intercompany dating is banned.”

“Well, yeah, but we’re not, like, telling people.” I knew Dave. Dave wouldn’t tell anyone.

“Cannon, come on. You think no one knows? What are you gonna do if you slip up? What is he gonna do?”

My heart skipped a beat before slamming wildly in my chest. Thick ropes of dread pooled in my stomach, coiling like snakes. “What’s the worst that could happen?” Would they transfer Jim again? Or me? I loved my branch and the next closest was here in St. Louis. Six hours would be a bitch of a commute and—

“I don’t know for sure, dude, but I hear they’re just—like, straight firing people.”

“They’d fire me?”

“Not you. Whoever is lower, probably, and since your guy’s not here, I’m guessing that’s him.”

“They—they can’t fire Jimmy. That’s got to be illegal.”

“Nope,” Dave shook his head. “My friend Sheila got canned. She took it to a lawyer a week ago, but since the policy has technically been in place for the last few months, it’s solid.”

The last few months. That was before the merger.

If anyone found out about Jimmy and I, he’d be fired.

My whole body ached. The rest of the evening passed in a blur, my phone hot in my pocket and Dave’s sympathetic gaze flickering to me frequently.

I—my feelings for Jimmy were strong. Every day I’d spent with him had felt impossibly large, like I could do anything just by existing near him. He made my apartment full and a home, instead of just a place to rest. He made everything just enough better that I hadn’t even realized how small and empty my life had been until he fixed it.

I had known that this wasn’t allowed. That there would be consequences. But I hadn’t really considered it. I hadn’t thought about the fact that Jimmy, with his perfect record and ten years at Singer-Paulson would be fired.

Half-smiles and messy hair and big, trusting green eyes—Jimmy was something so much more than a one-night stand, and he’d always been more. He was potential, he was—could be—my future.

But if I wanted that—if I took that, asked him to risk everything, to stay with me—I would be taking his future. I would be saying that the way he made me feel meant more than his career, than what he’d been working for his whole life. Jimmy wanted to be CEO one day—and he could be. He was smart, quick, clever. He was an incredible employee, an even better man.

I wasn’t worth ruining all of that. I wasn’t worth Jimmy giving up everything he wanted. I wasn’t worth ruining his career over.

I was a selfish man and I wanted to keep him. I wanted to tell him that I would support him, I’d find him a new job, I’d do anything—except lose him.

But that wasn’t what caring about someone was. That wasn’t what it meant to—to care about someone. I wasn’t worth ruining Jimmy’s life.

But Jimmy was a good man, full of hope and so much love to give, every minute he spent with me was evidence of that. He would tell me it was okay. He would give me what I wanted, if I asked. He would take the leap because I wanted him to and he was so good and so giving.

So I wouldn’t ask. I wouldn’t put that pressure on Jimmy and I wouldn’t risk him throwing everything away. He was worth so much more than a workaholic with no family like me. He was worth everything, he deserved everything and I wasn’t going to stand in his way. I wouldn’t hold him back.

I didn’t sleep much that night. The plane ride had gone like a blurry dream, my thoughts a rotating shift of maybes and pleases as I tried to argue myself out of the miserable hole I’d dug.

Jimmy texted me a few more times. I ignored them all. By the third message, I turned my phone off completely, letting the battery die.

There wasn’t another option.

Jimmy wasn’t going to settle for someone like me. I wouldn’t let him.

I drove straight to his apartment. I wasn’t sure if that was a good idea or if it had even been my plan; my muscles drove me there without any warning.

I couldn’t wait any longer. Every extra minute we spent together would just hurt worse when I finally did what was right.

I texted him that I was outside. He buzzed me up immediately.

Jimmy was wearing my old college t-shirt I had loaned him the day he left his toothbrush at mine. He was in workout pants, the thin ones that clung to his long muscles and toned thighs. His face was sweaty and pink, dark hair wilder than it’d been. He needed a haircut. I wanted to run my fingers through the strands and feel the way he’d lean into it, the soft rumble in his chest when I scraped my nails against his scalp.

He ushered me in, a wide grin on his face. His eyes were crinkled in the corners and his smile was wide enough that I could see his gums. He looked happy.

There was an ache in my chest like I’d been punched clean through. He reached toward me, throwing his arms around my neck and grinning up at me. My hands fell automatically to his waist.

“Hello, Dean,” he said cheerfully. He tilted his head and squinted up at me. “I’ve missed you.”

I wished I’d never gone to the regional convention. I wish I’d never spoken to Dave, never learned what I did. The blissful bubble Jimmy and I had been in was about to crash forever, and I was going to be the one to toss it to the ground.

My heart felt like it was somersaulting and at the same time, like it wasn’t even there at all. It was breaking even though he was still close, still in my arms.

“Sorry that I’m all sweat—”

I cut him off and kissed him hard. I spun us around and pushed him against the wall, capturing his lip between mine and slipping my tongue into his mouth. After a shocked second, he kissed me back with equal fervor.

Jimmy was saying hello. I was saying goodbye.

When I pulled back, he was smiling, dazed. One of his hands was in my hair and the other remained around my neck. With my eyes stinging, I slowly untangled myself and stepped away.

“Dean?” Jimmy was starting to pick up on my mood. He watched me, eyes flicking across my face. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

I swallowed around the growing lump in my throat. I could feel the weekend catching up on me, the weight of what I was about to do pushing my shoulders down. This was the worst decision I’d ever had to make. I wished I could make Jimmy understand.

But he wouldn’t—he would sacrifice for me. He deserved so much better than me. I steeled my expression, pushing my shoulders back. “I—” I took a breath and swallowed hard again. “I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

The words felt thick in the air. They were their own thing, able to throw their own weight at will. I hoped desperately they hit against me instead of him.

Jimmy blinked at me, his face scrunching up in confusion. He cocked his head. “What?”

Please don’t make me say it again.

Jimmy took a step toward me and I quickly went backward. I couldn’t let him touch me—couldn’t let him sway me. This was the right thing to do.

This was what Jimmy needed me to do.

“Dean,” his voice raised, the low scrape of it a bit higher now, a bit wilder. “Dean, what are you talking about?”

“I—we’re not good for each other.” I’m no good for you.

“You don’t get to decide that,” Jimmy held out his hands as if placating an angry animal. I felt regret bone deep. My blood churned, thick and painful. “I don’t want to break up.”

My eyes were stinging and my chest was caving in, but I was nothing if not a good actor. I forced my face into casual indifference. I raised a shoulder and let it drop as if I didn’t care. “I just wanted to tell you in person.”

I went to walk around him to the door, needing to get away before I completely fell apart. Jimmy slammed a hand out on the door, turning to me with a glare.

“Dean, what is this all about? What happened this weekend?”

I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t stand here and explain why we weren’t going to work out. I couldn’t stand here and tell him I didn’t—care about him. I didn’t want to lie. He deserved so much better than me. I was weak. I was afraid, and I had to stop myself before I let that fear ruin his future.

“I just realized that we’re better apart. I’m your boss, you’re my employee—let’s just keep it that way. No complications.”

“No—complications?” He shook his head, hand falling from the door as he held his together to wring them in front of him. “I don’t understand.”

My hands and arms prickled with the urge to wrap them around him. I wanted to comfort him. I wanted him.

My heart crumbled like ash. “I’ve got to go. I’ll—see you at work.”

“Dean!” Jimmy said harshly, but I moved around him, opening the door. He didn’t stop me this time but said my name again as I pulled it open.

I clenched my eyes closed, hand tightening around the knob. “I—I’m sorry. I’ve got to go.”

I raced down the apartment, taking the stairs two at a time. Jimmy called after me one last time.

The ache in my chest was threatening to collapse me. I wanted nothing more than to turn around, beg his forgiveness, pull him to me—except maybe to fall to the ground and curl into myself. The bone-deep pain was all encompassing.

I was doing the right thing. I just wished the right thing had been a little bit more like what I so very much wanted.

I managed to get into my car and pull into my parking spot before I lost it. The skies had opened up and started to rain and as I cut off the ignition, I let out a barking laugh at how incredibly fucking cliche that was. Of course it was raining. Of course the only person I actually cared about was gone, was the one person I couldn’t have without hurting. Of course Dean Cannon was alone.

I slammed my fists against the steering wheel. Fuck, fuck, fuck—what was I doing? What was the point of any of this?

It had only been three weeks since I’d met Jimmy. Your life couldn’t change in three weeks. You couldn’t—you couldn’t fall in love with someone in three weeks.

But the ache in my chest opened up into a black hole, swallowing everything down. I stumbled into my apartment, my bags tossed to the floor, and barely made it to the bed before exhaustion hit me. I felt as if I’d been kicked in the stomach, ran over by a truck—like I hadn’t slept in a month. I fell asleep in the empty apartment with thoughts so loud, I could barely hear them at all.