And another for 6:00.
Only after the third alarm did I let myself look at the message again.
My office. Tomorrow. 7am.
I knew I should be scared of what came next.
I was.
I also knew I would be early.
Chapter 14
Chapter 14
DECLAN
At 6:52, Jace Holloway was already sitting outside my office.
For a few seconds, I stood at the far end of the hallway and let myself take that in.
He was early.
Not barely on time. Not skidding in with an excuse already loaded on his tongue. Early. In team sweats, one knee bouncing so hard the heel of his sneaker tapped against the floor in a rapid, uneven beat. His hair was damp, either from a shower or from dragging his hands through it until it gave up. A coffee cup sat untouched on the chair beside him. His phone was facedown on his thigh, one thumb hooked beneath the edge of the case, bending it back over and over like his hands needed a task or the rest of him would come apart.
He had done what I told him to do.
That should have been simple.
It was not.
My body remembered him before the disciplined part of me could get a word in. His mouth against mine. His fists twisted in my jacket. The sudden quiet in him when my hand closed around the back of his neck. I had spent most of the night awake, staring at the ceiling while Tiny snored like a broken engine beside my bed, trying to decide which line I had crossed first.
Not whether I had crossed one.
That part was settled.
Jace looked up.
For one unguarded second, his face changed.
No smile. No performance. Just relief, raw and quick, before he shoved it down and dragged something more familiar into place.
“Morning.”
“You’re early.”
“Yeah.” His thumb worried the phone case harder. “Three alarms. Also didn’t sleep much, so it was either come here or stare at my kitchen wall until I lost my mind.”
I unlocked my office. “Come in.”
He stood too fast, grabbed the coffee, nearly walked off without his bag, then swore under his breath and hooked it over his shoulder. His movements had that scattered edge to them, every action half a second ahead of the thought that was supposed to guide it.
I pushed the door open and flicked on the lights.
The office was empty. Quiet. No enormous bull mastiff sprawled across the rug today, no hundred-and-sixty-pound obstacle pretending he belonged at the rink. Tiny was at home, probably sulking at the front window because I’d left before his second breakfast.
Jace noticed the absence immediately. His gaze went to the rug, then the corner near the bookshelf. “No Tiny?”
