“I’m inviting,” I correct. “Only if you want it.”
Her hand tightens briefly on my arm. “And if I do?”
I lean in again, close enough that my words brush her mouth. “Then come by later. When it’s quieter. When you don’t have an audience or an aunt watching your every move.”
That earns a breathless laugh.
“You’re very sure,” she murmurs.
“I’m careful,” I say. “There’s a difference.”
She studies my face for a long second, searching for more. Pressure, expectation, ownership.
She doesn’t find it.
Instead, she smiles.
“Later,” she says.
I nod once. “Later.”
I let her go then. Not because I want to, but because restraint is part of what makes this work. She slips back toward the door, glancing over her shoulder once before disappearing inside.
I stay where I am, heart steady, blood warm, knowing exactly one thing:
This isn’t going to cool down.
It’s just getting started.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Abilene
Monday
This is a terrible idea.
Not objectively terrible. Just… situationally unhinged.
I stand in the hallway outside the guest room, barefoot, holding my boots as contraband, listening to my aunt’s very steady, very asleep breathing through the door.
There’s a floral throw pillow under her arm. She stole it from my couch like a raccoon claiming territory.
If she wakes up and catches me sneaking out in the middle of the night, I will simply pass away on the spot. Like I’m a teenager, and not a grown woman with my own damn life.
Because right now, I might as well be a naughty child.
I glance down at myself. Jeans. Sweater. Hair brushed but not styled, because I’m too wound up.
Okay. Focus.
I tiptoe past the guest room, avoiding the creaky floorboard near the bathroom. It betrayed me once, and I never forgave it. I freeze halfway down the hall, holding my breath.
Nothing.
She snores softly.
I live.
