I roll my eyes, but an uncomfortable ache twists in my stomach because, the truth is, I can’t imagine going back to my life without him. Now who’s unhinged? We’ve known each other for a week—ifyou count our time in Nashville and now. Because all those months in between don’t count, right? Admittedly, I spent a good part of them wondering what he was doing, whether he ever thought about me.
If those two nights meant anything to him.
Now I know they did. He couldn’t forget me any more than I could forget him. But that doesn’t change the ending I’ve already written in my head.
“I should go,” I say, forcing brightness into my voice, and a bigger, faker smile onto my face. “I need to shower before I face Kristen.”
“You’ve got this,” Sadie tells me. “And we’re here if you need us.”
“Love you guys.”
“Love you more,” Piper says, and then the screen goes dark.
I sit there for a moment, staring at the phone in my lap. What would I be doing right now if I were a romance novel heroine? Probably having some kind of emotional revelation, a moment of clarity where everything suddenly makes sense.
Instead I just feel uncertain and a little bit scared, and way too attached to a man I’m supposed to be letting go of.
Leaving my phone on the nightstand, I shower and get dressed, grateful to past me for starting a load of laundry when we got here yesterday.
I’m halfway down the stairs when Jensen looks up and sees me, and the smile that breaks across his face is a sledgehammer to my heart. He looks so genuinely happy, like my appearance is the best part of his morning, and I have to grip the railing to steady myself before I melt into a puddle of goo on the landing.
“Good morning.” That deep, rumbly voice wraps around me like a warm blanket.
“Morning.”
Movement in my peripheral vision draws my attention, and I turn to see Cody emerging from his room on the main floor, wearing nothing but boxer briefs. He’s objectively attractive, all lean muscle and strategically placed tattoos, with the kind of raw sex appeal that likely sells records before he opens his mouth.
It does absolutely nothing for me.
“Put some clothes on,” Jensen says, his jaw tightening.
Cody grins and stretches, completely unrepentant. “Don’t get your panties in a twist, old man. Sloane ain’t complaining.” He flexes a little, clearly enjoying himself. “Are you complaining, Sloane?”
I roll my eyes. “I’ve seen better.”
Jensen makes a sound that might be a laugh quickly cloaked in a cough, and Cody clutches his chest in mock devastation.
“Harsh,” he says. “That’s hot.”
“Get dressed or no donuts,” Jensen tells him, holding up a bakery bag I hadn’t noticed.
Cody’s eyes light up, and he sounds more like a twelve-year-old kid than a country music heartbreaker. “Did you get jelly-filled?”
“You’ll never find out if you keep standing there.”
“Did you know,” Cody asks me as he backs away, “that hisofficial nickname in Nashville is Captain Buzzkill? It’s true. Ask anyone.”
“I didn’t know that,” I say, fighting a smile.
He disappears down the hallway, and a moment later, I hear a door close.
Jensen shakes his head, but there’s fondness underneath the exasperation. “He’s a lot.”
“He’s sweet.”
“He’s a menace.” He sets the bakery bag on the counter. “Coffee?”
“Please.”
