I don’t know.
All I know is that I’m not leaving until I know Marley is okay.
Eventually, exhaustion wins, and I drift off into a restless sleep.
***
The sound of knocking on my window jolts me awake. My body jerks, and for a moment, I’m disoriented, my neck stiff from sleeping at an awkward angle. Morning sun glares at me through the windshield, temporarily blinding me, then movement to my left catches my attention.
Squinting, I peer out my driver’s side window, and then I see her.
Marley.
She’s standing outside my car in an oversized hoodie and pajama pants, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, holding two steaming cups of coffee. Her face is pale, her eyes hidden behind her glasses, and she looks mortified.
I roll down the window, and she immediately thrusts one of the cups at me. “Hi,” she says, her voice small. “So, um… Sage told me you slept in your car… all night… because of me.”
I take the coffee, my fingers brushing hers. “Morning, Small Town.”
“So,” she says, clearing her throat. “Do you want to come inside? Sage is making breakfast. Well, trying to. She’s still kind of drunk.”
I should say no.
The words are right there, already halfway formed on my tongue.
But then I look at her.
Hair is messy from sleep. Eyes still rimmed with the aftershock of tears. Coffee cradled in her hands as though it’s the only thing keeping her upright. That soft, uncertain smile that damn near undoes me.
“Yeah,” I say instead. “Yeah, I do.”
Her smile brightens, catching the morning light, and fuck me if it doesn’t hit me straight in the chest.
I grab my keys and step out of the car before I can overthink it.
Every instinct in me hums with warning.
This is a bad idea.
She’s just gotten out of a six-year relationship.
There’s a sizable age gap between us.
You’re a biker for fuck’s sake, Nitro. She’s going to run when she finds out that tidbit of information.
But I keep walking anyway.
Because the truth is… I want to.
And that scares the hell out of me.
I’m not supposed to want more. Not with her. Not with anyone.
But here I am, crossing the driveway like it’s some line I can’t uncross, about to eat breakfast with a woman I can’t stop thinking about and her chaos-drunk best friend.
And I know, deep down, I’m not just stepping into her house.
I’m stepping into something bigger.
