Lucy
Evening light filters through Gabriel's kitchen window as I sit cross-legged on the hardwood floor beside Tyson, my good hand buried in his thick fur.
The Rottweiler's dark eyes watch me with that uncanny intelligence dogs possess, like he can read every conflicted thought racing through my head.
"I'm in deep shit, big guy," I whisper, scratching behind his ears.
Tyson's tail thumps once against the floor, and I take it as encouragement to continue this completely one-sided conversation with the only being in my life who can't judge me for the epic mess I'm making.
"Three men, Tyson. Three." My voice cracks on the number like I'm confessing to a crime. "And I want them all. What kind of girl does that make me?"
The memory of Colt's kiss this afternoon burns through me. The way his calloused hands had cupped my face, thetaste of him, the raw hunger in his voice when he'd said my name like it was ripped from his chest.
I'd wanted to melt into him completely, forget everything except the way he made me feel alive and desired and absolutely precious.
But then there's Gabriel. Steady, controlled Gabriel who took me in without question, who looks at me like I'm something worth protecting instead of something broken that needs fixing. The way his blue eyes track my movements when he thinks I'm not looking, the careful way he touches my shoulder when he checks on me.
And Beau. God, Beau with his quiet intensity and the way he calls me sunshine like it's a prayer. The almost-kiss in the barn that still haunts my dreams, the gentle way he'd held my face, the promise in those gray eyes that he'd burn down the world to keep me safe.
"I can't have them," I tell Tyson, who tilts his massive head like he's questioning my logic. "I can't have any of them. It would be selfish and stupid and completely unfair."
Because the truth sits in my chest like a lead weight. I'm leaving. In a few weeks, I'll turn twenty-one and everything changes. I'll file that petition, challenge the guardianship, and pray uncle Richard doesn't find me before I can disappear again. These men don't deserve to be dragged into that nightmare. They don't deserve the danger that follows me or the inevitable heartbreak when I have to run.
"The plan is simple," I continue, trying to convince myself as much as Tyson. "Keep my distance. Be polite but nottoo friendly. Definitely no more kissing anyone, no matter how much my body wants to. Stay invisible, get my legal shit sorted, then maybe... maybe figure out if there's a future here."
It is a good plan. A smart plan. A plan that completely ignores the way my heart does gymnastics whenever any of them walk into a room.
Tyson huffs out a breath that sounds suspiciously like disagreement.
"Don't look at me like that," I scold gently. "I'm being realistic. I refuse to be the reason they destroy each other. Did you know Colt and Beau used to be best friends? That they shared someone before and it ended in disaster? I won't be the woman who finishes what's left of their friendship."
The sound of gravel crunching outside makes my pulse jump. I scramble to my feet, suddenly self-conscious about the way I've been fussing over dinner, like it matters. Like I haven't already crossed every line I swore I wouldn't.
The front door opens, and Gabriel fills the doorway in his sheriff's uniform, all broad shoulders and quiet authority. His blue eyes scan the room automatically landing on me before moving to the obviously empty space where Colt should be.
"Where's Colt?" he asks, setting his keys on the side table with practiced precision.
Heat floods my cheeks as this afternoon crashes over me again. Colt's mouth on mine, his hands tangling in my hair, the way he'd whispered my name like a benediction. "He, um..." I clear my throat, trying to find words that don't involve confessing to making out with him. "He left about twenty minutes ago. Said you were almost home and he had some kind of emergency at the clinic. Tyson kept me company."
Gabriel's eyes narrow slightly, and I have the uncomfortable feeling he can read every guilty thought written across my face. Sheriffs are probably trained for that, and I've never been good at poker.
"Everything all right?" His voice is careful, neutral, but there's something underneath that makes my skin prickle with awareness.
"Fine," I say too quickly, like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar. "Everything's fine. I made dinner. As a thank you. For letting me crash here."
"You didn't need to do that." He moves closer. "But thank you."
There's something in the way he looks at me, a heat that makes my mouth go dry and my carefully constructed plan start crumbling around the edges.
"I should shower," he says finally, his voice rougher than before. "Change out of the uniform."
I nod, not trusting my voice, and watch him disappear down the hallway. The moment he's gone, I press my palms against my burning cheeks.
Get it together, Lucy. He's being nice. That's what decent people do.
While Gabriel showers, I busy myself setting the table and checking on the simple carbonara I've prepared.
Nothing fancy, just something to show appreciation without looking like I'm trying too hard. But my hands shake as I work, and the sound of running water down the hall makes me think of things I shouldn't.
