For the first time—
It didn’t feel impossible.
It didn’t feel like a fantasy.
It felt like a choice.
One she was dangerously close to making.
32
Residual
Thelighthitsfirst.
Sunrise floods the bedroom in gold, threading through the wide windows and piercing straight into Sara’s closed eyes. She groans softly, blinking into the glow, then pulls the comforter higher—burying herself in the warmth of sheets that still carry someone else’s scent.
Jaxon’s scent.
She stays there a moment longer than she should, breathing it in.
Eventually, she pushes back the covers and walks barefoot to the window. The view outside is so serene it feels like fiction. The sound is still and gleaming, morning birds gliding over glassy water like the world has nothing left to prove. Her gaze shifts—drawn to a crane perched at the end of the dock, still as stone.
A daily view.
A life someone gets to live.
She turns away before the longing turns too loud.
In the bathroom, she brushes her teeth in silence. Her movements are automatic. Slow. Almost… reverent. Like this space is hallowed ground and she’s trespassing on it.
She starts the shower and waits as the steam clouds the glass wall. When the temperature turns scalding, she steps in.
The shampoo smells good.
Too good.
Rich and masculine, not cheap or generic. She lathers it into her hair, eyes closed, letting the scent invade every breath. The water carries it down her back, over her skin, down the drain.
She watches the suds swirl away, and that’s when the thought hits her.
Why did I sleep so well last night?
She hasn’t had a full night’s rest in months. But last night, in that bed?
She slept like her bones belonged there.
Was it the bed? The exhaustion? The salt in the air?
Or was it just… him?
She shakes the thought away. Grabs the body wash from the shelf. Opens the cap and sniffs—then lets out a quiet laugh.
“Guess I’m gonna smell like a man all day.”
But even as she says it, there’s no hint of annoyance.
Only a subtle, dangerous warmth blooming in her chest.
