She reached for the space beside her, but it was empty.
She pushed herself up on one elbow and glanced at the clock on his nightstand. It was a little before eight. A bit of sunlight slipped through the blinds in thin stripes, cutting across the hardwood floor.
For a second, she wished that yesterday had been a nightmare. That she would wake up for real in her own apartment, laughing at herself for being dramatic. But the bandage around her arm was a stark reminder that it had happened.
But she’d learned the hard way that life didn’t give you do-overs.
With a slow exhale, she swung her legs out of bed and stood. Her shoulder tugged faintly where the stitches were, but it wasn’t bad.
She padded across the room and dug through her bag, finding a pair of yoga pants, a tank top, and a pair of socks.
She pulled on the soft pants and tank, then did her usual morning routine on autopilot—brush teeth, rinse face, tie her hair up into a messy bun.
When she stepped back into the bedroom, she paused, listening. She heard soft, feminine voices drifting from somewhere down the hall.
Her forehead wrinkled slightly. Pierce had said Ray and Jessica were staying the night. So, who did the other female voice belong to?
As soon as she heard a giggle, she knew exactly who it was. Alyvia.
She stepped into the hallway and followed the sound, wandering through the living room and toward the kitchen. The smell of coffee hit her halfway there, rich and strong, and her stomach made a small, hopeful flip.
Then she stopped in the doorway.
Jessica and Alyvia were standing shoulder to shoulder by the sink, their faces practically pressed to the kitchen window, like two teenagers spying on a neighbor.
Jessica had her hands braced on the counter, head tilted like she was watching a show. Alyvia’s cheeks were pink—actual pink—and she kept making these tiny sounds of appreciation under her breath like she didn’t realize she was doing it out loud.
Charley watched for a minute, then tiptoed forward. She made sure to be as silent as she could.
And when she was right behind them, she leaned in and said, very softly, “What are we stalking?”
Both women shrieked.
Jessica jerked so hard she nearly toppled over. Alyvia spun around, clutching her chest like Charley had just sent her into cardiac arrest.
“CHARLEY!” Jessica hissed, then immediately dissolved into laughter. “Oh, my God. You scared the bejesus out of me.”
Charley chuckled. “Good morning to you, too.”
Jessica pointed at her, still laughing. “Good morning, little Miss Stealth Mode. Where did you learn that anyway? You’ve been hanging around SEALs for two minutes, and now you’re sneaking up like you’re about to breach a door.”
Charley lifted a brow. “Maybe I’m a fast learner.”
Jessica snorted. “Or maybe you’re just mean.”
Alyvia finally caught her breath, swatting Charley’s good arm playfully. “You know that I scare easily,” she playfully scolded her.
Charley laughed again. She wasn’t joking. Alyvia was one big scaredy cat. She looked at Alyvia. “What are you doing here?” she asked her.
Alyvia’s expression shifted into something more sincere, her teasing fading, although Charley didn’t miss the pink returning to her cheeks.
“I brought pastries,” Alyvia said, as if that explained everything. “And I wanted to check on you.” She shrugged, but her eyes were kind. “I wanted to see you with my own eyes.”
Charley nodded, a warm ache spreading through her chest. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “That means a lot.”
Charley opened the pastry box and grabbed a strawberry Danish. She motioned toward the window. “What were you all looking at out there?” she asked, taking a big bite of her pastry.
Jessica’s grin was pure trouble. And Alyvia’s cheeks went even pinker. Hell, those babies were flaming.
