The envelope sits on my dresser. I count the money again even though I already know the number. The last of my savings. Everything I scraped together before I came back here.
Everything I told myself I wouldn't touch unless there was no other choice.
I tuck the envelope into my bag and head downstairs.
The scent of coffee reaches me before the sound of voices. Mae's laugh carries from the kitchen, easy and unguarded, mingling with another voice that makes my steps slow without permission.
When I turn the corner, he's there.
Eli stands at the counter, one hip leaned back against it, mug in hand. Worn t-shirt. Hair still damp. Comfortable in the space like he's always belonged here.
My breath catches.
The memory hits without warning. His hands last night. The way my body arched into them. The sound he pulled from me when I lost control.
Heat rushes my cheeks.
His eyes lift and meet mine.
I stop short in the doorway.
His mouth curves slowly. That smile. The one I haven't seen in far too long. The one that used to be reserved just for me—soft at the edges, dangerous in the middle.
There's relief in it. Desire. Something earned.
And something knowing. He knows exactly what he's doing to me.
His gaze lingers, dark and steady, and I feel it in my body before my brain can catch up. The unspoken truth hums between us. He's thinking the same thing I am. Last night. My hands on his back. His mouth at my ear. The way he made me come apart and held me there while I shook.
And he's enjoying the hell out of it.
I pull my face into what I hope passes for indifference, like I haven't just been caught mid-thought.
"Morning, Eli."
I reach past him for the coffee pot, brushing against his side just enough to be accidental. Just enough to spike my pulse and make my breath hitch. His warmth is immediate, familiar, grounding in the most dangerous way.
"Morning, Hazel," he says simply.
His voice does things to me that should be illegal before caffeine.
Get it together, I tell myself.
I turn quickly, putting space between us before I do something catastrophically stupid. Like kiss him. Like drag himdown the hall. Like forget that Mae is standing three feet away and very much awake.
I pour my coffee with hands that absolutely don't shake.
"I'm heading into town today," I say, aiming for casual. "Need to pay the registration fee for Fall Classic."
Mae lights up immediately. "That's fantastic. That colt looks better every day. Addie seems real comfortable on him too."
I nod, taking a careful sip. The coffee's strong. Bitter. Welcome.
Eli speaks then, easy but sure. "You've done good work with him. He's calmer. Listening better. That doesn't happen by accident."
The praise lands warm and unguarded. It shouldn't mean this much. It absolutely does.
"Thanks," I say quietly.
