Chapter Twelve
Vic
He woke up alone.
The other side of the bed was cold.Morning light slanted through the blinds.Vic sat up, rubbing a hand over his face, and heard movement in the kitchen.
He pulled on his jeans and padded out, grabbing his shirt along the way.
Bonnie was already dressed—jeans, fresh tank top, hair scraped away from her face into a ponytail—pouring coffee into a travel mug.She looked composed.Distant.
“Morning, Bunny,” Vic said, voice still rough with sleep.
She glanced at him, expression carefully neutral.“Morning.Coffee’s fresh if you want some.”
Vic leaned against the doorframe, studying her.The easy heat from last night was gone, replaced by every one of her walls snapping back into place.
“You kicking me out already?”he asked, half joking, half serious.
Bonnie didn’t smile.She screwed the lid on the mug and finally met his eyes.
“Look...last night was fun.Really fun.But I don’t do the morning-after thing.And I definitely don’t do repeats.”
The words hit him like a cold splash of water.
He nodded slowly, keeping his face calm even as something twisted in his chest.“Got it.”
She handed him the travel mug.“There’s a bus stop two blocks down.Or you can call an Uber.Whatever.”
Vic took a slow drink of the coffee, their gazes locked for a second.The spark was still there, but Bonnie shut it down immediately.
“Thanks for filling in last night,” she said, already moving toward the door like she had somewhere to be.“You killed it.”
Vic pulled on his boots in silence, then paused at the doorway.
“Bonnie.”
She looked back at him, guarded.
“I don’t regret it,” he said quietly.“Not even a little.”
For a fraction of a second, her expression softened.Then the walls slammed back up.
“Take care of yourself, Montrose.”
She closed the door behind him with a quiet click.
Vic stood on the porch for a long moment, coffee warm in his hand, the taste of her still lingering on his lips.
