Page 76 of Long Story Short

She doesn’t have to say anything in response to what I just admitted to her. The way she effortlessly melts into my hold tells me everything I need to know.

She’s here. She’s letting herself be here—with me.

I stare up at the ceiling for a second, my thoughts quieter now, but somehow still heavy despite the relief I feel at her melting against me. The relief in having her next to me, in my bed, getting ready to sleep next to her.

My thoughts get heavy because this isn’t just wanting her.

It’s not just the way she reacts to me, or the way I can’t seem to get enough of her, or the way I’m desperate to give her inspiration and be the first one to make her feel things.

It’s something else.

Something I didn’t plan for.

Something I don’t fully understand yet.

But there is one thing I know for sure—I don’t want this to end.

THIRTY-EIGHT

JOSIE

I wake up slowly. My eyelids drift open, and for a second, I don’t know where I am. The room is unfamiliar, the morning light softer than what I’m used to. It filters through curtains that are different than mine. I stretch underneath the blanket pulled over me, realizing the bed is different—bigger. Warmer.

Then I realize…I’m not alone.

My heart races as everything from last night comes rushing back to me. The kitchen. His hands. The way he looked at me. The things he did to me on his kitchen counter.

The way he helped clean me up and held me after.

I shift on the mattress, taking in my surroundings.

Tyson’s arm is draped loosely over my waist. It’s heavy and warm—and I love the feeling of it there. His arm must’ve settled around me sometime in the middle of the night and never left. My head is tucked against his body, the steady rhythm of his chest rising and falling beneath my cheek.

I stay still. Partly because I’m comfortable, but also because I don’t want to disturb the moment. Something about it feels fragile. Like if I move too quickly, I’ll break it, and it’ll disappear. I’m half-afraid if I move too fast, I’ll blink and be back in my own bed, wondering if any of this actually happened.

My eyes close for a moment as it settles in that it did happen.

I’m here.

In Tyson’s bed.

Wearing his clothes.

For the first time in a long time, I feel completely at peace waking up next to a man. There’s no second-guessing or unease lingering beneath the surface. There’s just the steady warmth of his body next to mine and the feeling that this is exactly where I’m meant to be. I smile at the realization, loving how right things feel this morning.

Before I can think better of it, I begin to trace small circles over his bare chest.

Tyson’s breathing changes almost instantly. His chest hitches as he lets out a long exhale. “Morning.” His voice is rough with sleep, the sound low and so close to my ear that it sends warmth through me.

I tilt my head up just enough to look at him. He stares back at me, his eyes half-lidded from sleep. I smile at the sight of his slightly disheveled hair. The way he stares back at me is softer than I’ve ever seen it—complete contentment written all over his face.

It makes my chest ache in a good way.

My smile grows. “Morning,” I respond.

A small smile pulls at the corners of his mouth before he tightens his arms around me, like he doesn’t want me to move. “You sleep okay?” he asks, his voice still raspy, sending warmth through me that makes my toes curl underneath the blanket.

I nod. “Yes. Better than expected.”