Page 21 of Hearts Storm

Grabbing my purse, I’m ready to walk out the door, but...

I sigh to myself.

One last look won’t hurt. Right?

He looks so peaceful. The hard edges of his face are softened by whiskers he hasn’t bothered to shave all weekend. Dark hair tousled, his lips are slightly parted. Sheets tangle around his waist, exposing the muscular planes of his back and the tattoo curving over his shoulder blade and down his arm.

My throat tightens. I should be angry—and I am—but there’s something else. Something that feels dangerously close to hurt.

So I push it down deep. Down to the place I’ve buried all the other feelings I can’t afford to let take over.

Backing away, I throw my purse over my shoulder and slip into my shoes.

Closing the door behind me with a soft click, I make my way down the hall to the elevator.

The ride down to the lobby is a blur. It’s quiet, with just a few early risers sipping coffee in the lounge. No one spares me a glance as I hurry past.

Head held high, I step outside onto the sidewalk, raising my hand for cab.

This is one walk of shame I’ll never forget.

eleven

I wake up to an empty bed.

Aside from the rumpled bedding, the indentation of Reyna’s body is already gone, sheets cool to the touch.

Rolling over, I stare up at the ceiling, arms butterflied behind my head, trying to come to terms with how the hell I feel about it.

Relief. Definitely relief. I don’t do the whole, “So… what happens now?” conversation that inevitably follows up a weekend like this. I’ve perfected the art of a clean exit, and apparently, so has she.

But there’s something else clawing at my chest. A tightness that doesn’t sit right. Disappointment, maybe? Which is stupid. I don’t get disappointed in these situations. That’s the whole fucking point. Typically, I’m ecstatic when I wake up and whoever I was with is long gone.

I sit up, scrubbing my hands over my face. The room still smells like her. Sweet and warm, lingering on the pillows and the sheets. The same sheets where I’ve spent the last two days making her come so hard, she screamed my name so loud, and so many times, her voice was raspy after only a few hours in.

And she just... left.

Hope blooms in my chest. Maybe she left a note.

Heart pounding, I swing my legs over the side of the bed and scan both nightstands. Nothing. Just my phone, wallet, and a few empty condom wrappers.

“Damn.”

Eyes darting, I take a look around. The coffee table in the sitting room is still covered with remnants from our last meal—a couple of plates with half-eaten cheeseburgers and an empty bottle of red wine. But no note.

I check the bathroom next. Nothing.

My stomach sinks and I surprise myself when the sudden need to punch something takes over.

The search doesn’t take long. And still I find nothing.

Feeling somewhat dejected, I grab my phone off the nightstand.

A text from Jenna and another from Maddie mock me from the screen. Two women who have always been down to hook up. No strings. No bullshit.

Just the thought of calling either of them again makes my stomach turn, so I delete both threads and block their numbers.

Not going there anymore.