And the crazy part?
She didn’t want the feeling to end.
14
Morning Text
Itwas8:15whenClaire's phone chimed, dragging her out of sleep with the same gentle urgency as a whispered name. Still half-asleep, she squinted one eye open and reached blindly for the nightstand. The screen's glow nearly blinded her.
She blinked the blur away and unlocked her phone.
Jax:Good morning, beautiful. I didn’t want to wake you by calling. I’ve got your keys.
The smile that spread across her face was brighter than the screen itself.
She rolled onto her back, sighing into the sheets like a girl with a secret she wasn’t ready to share. Then she stretched, slipped out of bed, and made her way to the bathroom.
She turned on the shower and grabbed her toothbrush, glancing up into the mirror—and immediately laughed.
There she was, a full mess. Barely awake. Hair like a tossed-up halo. But still smiling like someone who knew she was about to have a damn good day.
She started dancing.
No music. No rhythm. Just a girl in pajamas brushing her teeth and swaying in front of the mirror like she was getting ready for her first school dance.
“He has a grip on me,” she muttered with a laugh. “I’m in trouble.”
Thirty minutes later, she padded downstairs, still towel-drying her hair, craving one thing and one thing only—well, two things: coffee and Jax.
The house was dead quiet. Just her, the silence, and the soft gurgle of the coffee maker heating up. She pressed the lid and listened as the machine hissed, water and grounds blending in their own little love affair. The scent of breakfast blend filled the room, cozy and calm.
A few moments later, she can hear someone stirring. A door creaked open, followed by the dragging shuffle of flip-flops against hardwood.
Out came Macie, looking like she’d been in a small war with her pillow. She was wrangling her hair into a bun with one hand, and with the other, bracing herself on the wall. Random strands stuck out in every direction like decorative streamers.
Claire watched her approach the kitchen counter and waited until she dropped her head down with a dramatic groan.
Then—loudly—“Good morning, Mace! How was your night?”
Macie raised her head slowly and flipped her the middle finger without a word.
Claire cackled and made her way to the couch, coffee in hand, phone in the other. She sat down and opened her thread with Jax, already typing her reply.
A moment later, more bedroom doors creaked open. Sara and Taylor emerged like hungover zombies from opposite sides of the house.
“Good morning, ladies,” Claire called.
No response.
Just a unified, mumbled, “Coffee...”
Once they had their cups, the two of them flopped beside Macie at the kitchen counter, sipping like the world might start spinning again if they didn’t.
But soon, they noticed something.
Claire—curled up on the couch, barefoot, grinning at her phone like it had just proposed to her.
Macie squinted. “What are you doing, Claire?”
