The elevator ride is quiet, but not uncomfortable. Matt’s face is buried in his phone, texting Jensen back, I’m sure. I close my eyes, resting my head against the wall, exhausted and eager to crawl into bed.
The doors slide open, and Matt slips his hand into mine like it’s second nature, leading me down the hallway.
He enters the code for the lock. It whirs and clicks before he pushes the door open and gestures for me to go first. I flip on the light and head for the kitchen, the sound of my heels echoing through the stillness.
“So… Thursday then?” I ask.
He gives a slight nod. “Thursday.”
I assume that’s it, so I start toward my room, but he stops me.
His hand wraps gently around my arm. “Hey. Come here.” He pulls me toward him and wraps his arms around me, then completely relaxes against me. “Get some sleep,” he murmurs, voice low, his hand rubbing my back.
“You too.”
He leans in and presses a kiss to my temple, brief, familiar, careful.
Not romantic.
Not platonic either.
Just us.
Except not. Because theusI’ve always known would already be all over each other—mouths, hands, bodies. We’d be stripping each other’s clothes off. The heat of his body would warm mine.
An ache pulses in my core, soft and quiet, but there, all the same.
My lips press tight, and I close my eyes for a moment. Then I take a slow breath through my nose and step back.
“Night, Matt.”
“Night, babe.”
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t head for the hallway. Doesn’tnotlook at me.
I turn and walk to my room, closing the door slowly behind me.
I slip off his jacket and bring it to my nose. It stillsmells like him. I breathe it in. The faint trace of his cologne wraps around me in a familiar way, waking old memories I thought I’d put to rest, stirring something inside me I don’t want to name. The warmth and comfort, it settles so deep in my body it feels like it reaches my soul.
And that feels like a problem.
Chapter Seventeen
JORDAN
I gatherup my cosmetics and toss them into my travel makeup bag, glancing at my watch as I zip it closed.
Dammit.I’m running behind.
I run my fingers through my freshly curled hair, breaking it into loose waves, then give it a light spritz of hairspray. My Uber’s scheduled to arrive in twenty minutes, and I still haven’t had my tea.
I rush to my suitcase with my bathroom caddy, dumping everything out so I can repack around it. It’s going to be tight. I roll my clothes and stuff them in, start to zip, then remember my shoes.
“Shit.”
I jog to the closet and grab the three pairs I brought.Four,if you count the ones already on my feet.
I stare down at the suitcase, my brain stalling as I try to figure out how to make it all fit. Ithasto. It did before.
