It should've been simple. Sheets. Blankets. Pillows arranged the way they'd been before I'd wrecked them.
But I lingered.
Standing there in the quiet, smoothing the quilt, I couldn't stop thinking about her naked in this bed. Couldn't stop thinking about the way she'd looked at me—open, trusting, wanting.
The way she'd tasted when I'd pressed my face between her thighs and made her come undone.
The sounds she'd made.
The way her body had tightened around me when I'd finally pushed inside her.
Get it together, Dane.
I finished making the bed with more force than necessary, fluffing the pillows like they'd personally offended me, then stepped back and surveyed the room.
Clean. Neat. Like I'd never been there.
Except, I had.
And something told me I'd be back.
I grabbed my jacket, checked my pockets for keys and phone, and headed for the door.
Locked it behind me, tested the handle twice to make sure.
Then I stood in the hallway for a moment, staring at the door like it might open again and pull me back inside.
It didn't.
I turned and walked down the stairs, the smell of the bakery wrapping around me one last time before I stepped out onto the street.
The city was alive. Tourists. Locals. The hum of Charleston doing what it always did—existing, thriving, moving forward without caring who got left behind.
I pulled out my phone and typed a response to Silas:On my way.
Then I started walking, hands in my pockets, thoughts circling back to Joy, despite my best efforts.
To the way she'd looked at me when I'd told her about my mother.
To the way she'd said my name when she came.
To the way she'd invited me into her space like it was the most natural thing in the world.
I had no idea that everything was about to change.
Again.
But if I'd known, I'm not sure it would've stopped me.
Because for the first time in years, I wasn't running toward danger or away from it.
I was moving toward something else entirely.
And that was the most terrifying mission I'd ever been on.
16
JOY
