Page 76 of Hearts Storm

“Rey.”

The sound of my nickname falling from his lips for the first time ignites a tiny spark of joy, bringing a wide smile to my lips.

“Promise.”

All he gives me in response is a quick wink and a nod before turning on his heel and heading back to his truck.

thirty-two

Stomach giddy with butterflies, I step inside and rest my forehead against the closed front door, listening to the rumble of Brex’s truck as it fades away.

Kicking off my shoes, I drop my bag on the floor in the entryway and make a beeline for my bedroom.

The room is cool and dim, curtains still drawn from when I closed them the night before.

With a heavy sigh, I sink onto the edge of my bed.

What the hell was I thinking agreeing to go to the gala as his date? My mind reels as images of what happened between us in Portland and in the woods—not to mention the kiss he just landed—ping-pong in my head.

My fingers drift to my lips, still tingling from the pressure of his mouth. I can still taste him. Smell the warm, spicy scent of his skin.

And Logan... what will he think when he sees us walk in together?

The thought sends a flutter of anxiety into the center of my throat. He’s made it clear he wants nothing to do with me, but the way he acted during my orientation and how he was looking at me back at the station despite his sister being all up in his face, tells a much different story.

I flop back onto the mattress, with a groan. This is getting way too complicated.

Logan and Brex. Brex and Logan.

Dark and Broody. Hot and Smirky.

Gah!

With a groan, I push myself up and head into my walk-in closet to change into something more comfortable.

I rummage around until I find my favorite pair of black joggers and an oversized sweatshirt. Big enough that it hangs past my fingertips, it’s soft, the scent of laundry detergent filling my nose.

Grabbing my favorite fuzzy blanket and a pillow off the bed, I head into the living room.

Late afternoon light streams through the windows, casting warm patterns across the hardwood floor. I toss my makeshift nest onto the couch and make my way into the kitchen.

The pantry offers plenty in the way of comfort food—microwave popcorn, a bag of chocolate-covered pretzels, and a large bag of salty chips. Perfect.

Grabbing an ice-cold can of Coke from the fridge, I spread my snacks out on the coffee table, grab the remote and settle in. A horror movie sounds like just the ticket I need to keep my mind off the chaos that is my love life right now.

As I’m scrolling through streaming options, my phone buzzes with a text.

LIZZY

Girls’ night at your place in 20. Bringing wine and takeout.

I smile despite myself. Leave it to Lizzy to know exactly when I need my friends.

Fine. But only because you’re bringing food.

LIZZY

Tacos or Chinese?