I press a hand to my mouth, pulse racing. He couldn’t possibly know. There’s no way. No one saw me. Knox and I were careful—well, as careful as two people can be when they’re horny and losing their minds in the cab of a truck.
Still. What if someone saw the truck parked there? What if word gets around?
What if it gets back to Liam or Maren?
Holy hell.
This is bad.
I head to my room and shut the door softly behind me. The bed feels too big, too empty. I slide under the blanket, curl on my side, and close my eyes. I see Knox anyway. His hands. His mouth. The way he said my name like he was trying not to want me but failing anyway. And then today, seeing him at the meeting, looking every inch the man I should never have touched.
The new sheriff.
My stomach flips.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I squeeze my eyes shut tighter, willing sleep to come, but it doesn’t. My mind runs in circles—Liam’s sharp words, the look on his face, Knox’s voice echoing across the hall, the whole town clapping while I stood there pretending I didn’t know what his hands felt like.
Nimbus hops up beside me, purring, oblivious to the mess I’ve made of my life. I run a hand over his soft fur, the sound of his contentment a small, fragile comfort.
The house is quiet now. Liam’s door stays closed. No footsteps, no creaking floorboards, nothing but the steady rhythm of my cat’s breathing.
I stare into the dark, eyes burning.
I’m twenty years old, and I just found out that I slept with the town’s new sheriff. And if that isn’t the most spectacularly stupid thing I’ve ever done, I don’t know what is.
I roll onto my back, staring up at the ceiling again. The faintest light of dawn is creeping through the edges of the blinds. I should close my eyes, try to rest before morning, before I have to face Liam and pretend everything is fine. But sleep won’t come.
All I can think about is the way Knox looked when our eyes met tonight—the flicker of recognition, the quiet curse under his breath, the way his shoulders went rigid as if he’d been hit.
He knows it too.
We’re both in trouble.
Nimbus shifts closer, curling against my arm, and I press my face into his fur, breathing in the faint scent of soap. My chest feels tight, my heart a confused, heavy weight.
Tomorrow, I’ll deal with it. I’ll talk to Liam. I’ll figure out what to do about Knox. I’ll try to untangle this mess I built out of loneliness and bad timing.
But for now, I just lie there, wide awake, listening to the hum of the house, waiting for the morning to come and dreading every minute of it.
The thud is loud enough to make my heart slam against my ribs. I jerk upright, the early light bleeding pale through the blinds. Letting out a startled hiss, Nimbus bolts from the foot of my bed. For a second, I’m caught between dream and waking, trying to piece together where the sound came from.
Then I hear it again—the scrape of something heavy across the floor.
“Liam?” I call, my voice still thick from sleep. No answer. I throw off the blanket and stumble toward the door, bare feet hitting the cold wood.
He’s by the front door when I reach the bottom of the stairs. Jacket half on, head bowed. His duffel bag sits at his feet, zipper half open, a tangle of clothes spilling out. The sight of it freezes me in place.
“What’s going on?” My voice cracks a little.
He doesn’t look at me right away. He just finishes pulling on his jacket.
“I think,” he says finally, voice low, “our friendship’s gotten… unhealthy.”
The words hit hard. “Unhealthy?”
He exhales, glances toward the window, then back at me. “I need some space, Millie.”
