I lean sideways on the stool, craning my neck to see around Gator’s massive frame and Bane’s broad shoulders. My heart is hammering against my ribs.
Where the heck is he?
More men filter in, but I don’t see him. Something ugly coils in my belly, until finally he strolls through the door.
Thank the gods.
He’s alive. He’s here.
The coffee mug I’ve been strangling for the last hour hits the bar with a thunk, and I launch off the stool. My Crocs squeak against the concrete floor as I sprint across the common room.
Journey’s gray eyes find mine, and a slow smile spreads across his exhausted face.
He’s whole.
His brows shoot up when he realizes I’m not slowing down. Just in time, he throws open his arms and catches me when I leap.
My legs lock around his waist, and I squeeze my arms around his neck.
“Honey.” I bury my face in his neck, fighting back the tears that want to fall.
His arms band around my back like steel, crushing me against his chest.
“Promise me,” I whisper against his neck, my voice cracking. “Promise me you won’t leave me like that again.”
Journey grunts, his arms tightening. His lips press against my temple, then my hair, then my temple again. But he doesn’t say the words, he doesn’t promise.
I squeeze my eyes shut and hold on tighter because right now, having him here is the only thing that matters.
After a long moment, he sets me back on my feet, his hands sliding to my hips. “Come on,” he says, his voice tired. “Let’s go get some sleep.”
I nod, threading my fingers through his. “Okay, honey.”
The warmth of the sun streaming through the blinds onto my face pulls me out of a dreamless sleep. I blink against the brightness, disoriented for a second.
“Honey?” I reach across the mattress. The sheets are cold.
Pushing up on my elbows, I glance around the room.
Journey’s boots are missing from beside the door, and the bathroom is dark and empty.
Where is he?
Sighing, I throw the covers back and swing my legs over the side of the bed. Every inch of my body aches this morning. One thing we didn’t do until hours after coming to bed was sleep. Journey pounced on me like he was making up for lost time. Not that I’m complaining.
Walking gingerly, I pad into the bathroom and handle my morning business. With my teeth brushed and my face clean, I wrestle my hair into a messy bun and pull on my favorite denim cutoffs and a fitted ribbed tank top. Next is my gold hoops and bangles.
“There.” I glance in the mirror. This is as good as it gets today.
Grabbing my phone off the nightstand, I head downstairs in search of Journey and caffeine, not necessarily in that order.
The common room is quiet this morning. A couple of prospects are wiping down the bar, and the faint smell of bacon drifts from the kitchen. I follow my nose through the door, and spot two familiar faces sitting at the counter.
“Morning,” I say, sliding onto the stool next to Stella.
“Hey, babe.” Stella smiles, her gray eyes bright despite the early hour. Her blonde hair is pulled back in two neat French braids, and she’s already dressed for the day in jeans and a Deziree’s Boutique tee.
“Good morning, sweetheart.” Roxy looks up from where she’s filling a coffee mug.
