“Olivia?”Darren’s voice drifts through wood and sleepy brain fog, deep and rough like he hasn’t quite woken up yet.“Are you decent?”
No.Not emotionally and barely physically.“Yes,” I croak, then clear my throat.“Yeah.Come in.”
The door opens and he leans against the frame like sin incarnate.Barefoot.Grey sweatpants.A white t-shirt clinging to his chest like it owes me money.
His hair is still damp from a shower, curling slightly at the ends.A faint scar crosses his bicep and another hugs his jaw.He moves like someone who knows exactly how strong he is and exactly how gentle he can be.
My ovaries hold hands and jump off a cliff.Fucking traitors.
“Morning,” he says softly.
“Morning,” I repeat, which is impressive considering my brain has left the building and my body is a traitor.
He looks me over without leering, his gaze lingering just long enough to make my skin warm.“How’s the breathing?”
“Less cactus,” I say, “more sandpaper.”
“That’s progress.”He smiles.“Want some coffee?”
“Yes,” I sigh, almost indecently.“God, yes.If it’s an option, I will marry coffee.”
His grin tilts wicked.“I’m going fight it for your affection.”
“I’m thirty-five,” I remind him weakly.“I require caffeine to survive.”
“Then I’ll bring you both,” he says, and disappears, leaving me staring at the door like it just personally offended me.
Get it together, Olivia.I swing my legs over the bed, wincing at minor aches in muscles I didn’t know I had.My reflection in the mirror across the room makes me pause.
Puffy eyes.Wild hair.Full body swathed in borrowed sleep shirt that strains a little over my breasts and doesn’t bother pretending to hide my hips.
This is me.This soft, scarred, curved body that men have used as a target for their cruelty and that I’ve apologized for existing in my entire adult life.
Darren saw me in a hospital gown and with snot and soot and fear smeared across my face and still looked at me like I was something worth carrying out of hell.
Don’t fucking cry, I tell myself.Not before coffee.
In the kitchen, the house is already alive.Aunt Dee hums under her breath while flipping pancakes.The TV murmurs morning news.Jayden and Mia are arguing about syrup distribution like it’s a war crime tribunal.
Darren stands at the counter pouring coffee into two mismatched mugs, head bent, mouth soft like he’s smiling at a private thought.That’s when he glances up and sees me.Everything in him changes.Subtle.But there.
His shoulders straighten.His eyes warm and sharpen at once.His attention hits me like sunlight through a magnifying glass.
“Hey,” he murmurs.
“Hey,” I reply, trying not to trip over my own bare feet.
Aunt Dee spots me and immediately abandons her spatula to envelope me in a hug that smells like vanilla and boundaries nobody listens to.“Sleep okay, baby?”
“Yeah,” I say, surprising myself with how true it is.“Actually ...yeah.”
“Good.”She presses a kiss to my cheek like she’s known me forever.“Eat before these hyenas finish it all.”
“We’re not hyenas!”Mia protests with pancake in her hair.
“We’re absolutely hyenas,” Jayden says cheerfully.
Darren hands me my mug, fingers brushing mine, lingering half a second longer than strictly necessary.Electricity zips up my arm.
