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I blinked. "The slammer?"
"Technically, it's just a holding cell, ma'am," a man's voice came through in the background. "And I told you that you could try to call him again later if we didn't get through."
"Shit, Wanda, what happened?" My heart raced with a mix of irritation and concern. This wasn't the first time Wanda had gotten herself arrested for her hijinks. And then I remembered her plan. "The motorcycle."
"Daisy's here, too. We may need bail," Wanda said. "Harold wants to press charges. Imagine! That bastard thinks—" The phone went dead, and I wondered if she'd hung up, or if the officer had cut her off because he could tell she was winding up for a rant. Poor guy had probably already heard her Harold rant 25 times.
"Motherfucker," I grumbled, grabbing my jacket. I had to get there fast, but I couldn't leave without reassuring Mira. I kissed her forehead, causing her to stir slightly.
"Hey, babe," she murmured, eyes fluttering open, bleary and confused. "What's up?"
"There's an emergency." I kept the details vague, not wanting to worry her too much. "Wanda has gotten herself in some trouble, but everything is fine. I'll be back soon."
"Okay," she mumbled, giving me a drowsy smile before drifting back to sleep.
I hopped in my truck, the cold leather biting into my skin as I quickly stashed the toys from the night before under the seat. The remnants of last night's debauchery with Mira hidden, I slammed the door shut and sped off to the police station.
"Fuckin' ridiculous," I muttered as I barreled down the road, thoughts of Wanda's latest antics swirling in my head. Usually, she and Daisy got into harmless fun, and though they both had an arrest record, nothing was ever enough to result in a real court case. But if Harold didn't drop these charges, that might be something different.
The police station was eerily quiet when I arrived, but I supposed there wasn't much going on at 4 am in Hazy Cove. The fluorescent lights cast harsh shadows on the linoleum floor. I strode up to the front desk, where a sleepy-looking clerk was sipping coffee.
"I'm here for my grandmother, Wanda Malloy." I kept my voice firm, eyes locked on the officer behind the counter. "And her friend, Daisy."
"Ah, Mr. Malloy, we've been waiting. She's in the holding cells with Daisy," he replied, clearly unphased by my demeanor. "Apparently, they stole a motorcycle together."
Mira
The sheets were coldbeside me, his scent lingering, but his warmth long gone. My eyelids fluttered open, heavy with the remnants of sleep. Gunnar's side of the bed was empty, the indent of his body a ghost in the tangled linens. I had asked him, no, pleaded with him to stay the entire night, to wake up cocooned in his arms. His absence left an ache that pulsed through me, not just from the physical absence, but from the unspoken promise that had evaporated with the dawn.
I shifted, wincing as the movement reminded me of what we'd done the night before. The delicious soreness between my asswas a testament to the intensity we'd shared; the raw, primal connection I had with him. Could he have slipped away because of the fierceness that claimed us? He'd said he would stay when I'd asked, hadn't he? Or perhaps he'd hedged around an answer and confused me.
Our talk the night before had given me so much more confidence, had it all been bullshit?
My phone glared up at me with its clinical light, anchoring me back to the reality I had momentarily cast aside. Reluctantly, I reached for it, fingers brushing over the screen to reveal the letter that dictated my future. Med school—the path I had carved with unwavering determination since I was old enough to understand my father's failures.
The decision loomed over me. If I didn't choose soon, I'd lose my spot. I'd have to reapply, maybe find a different school, if their next class was full. One year, maybe more, would be wasted if I decided to wait and see and Hazy Cove didn't work out.
I stood, feeling grumpy, and looked for my clothes. Were they still in his truck? I went to his closet, pulling one of Gunnar's oversized hoodies over my head. It swallowed me, but it was warm and cozy and smelled like him. It was absurd how much I craved his presence. I needed to get out of the house. I found a pair of basketball shorts in a drawer and tugged those on. They were practically pants, it was fine. I wasn't going to wait for him or call him, I'd just slip out and walk home. My Airbnb was only a few blocks away, anyway.
Outside, the crisp morning air bit at my cheeks as I made the few blocks walk back to my apartment, where I dressed for work. I needed Colby's comforting presence, to knock me out of this Gunnar-induced funk. And I needed to tell Colby about the letter and let him know I would only be able to stay at the bookstore until the current semester ended at my school. That thought made my chest feel tight.
The bell above the door chimed as I entered Tangled Pages, the familiar scent of new books and freshly brewed coffee enveloping me. This place, with its cozy nooks and teetering stacks, had swiftly become more than a job. It had started to feel like a second home, a refuge. I loved it.
Colby looked up from a pile of books, his hazel eyes lighting up at the sight of me. "Morning, Mira," he called out, his voice warm and welcoming.
"Morning." I cleared my throat, trying to think of how I'd break the news about med school.
I approached Colby, each step an effort, my mind reeling with the news that would change everything. How could I explain that my life's plan was shifting beneath me, that the ground I thought solid was nothing but quicksand? And how could I reveal that the man who had unlocked my deepest desires couldn't offer me the future I was supposed to have?
"Colby, I need to talk to you about something," I began, my voice faltering. But as I looked into his expectant gaze, I hesitated. Could I really walk away from this place that had awakeneda part of me I didn't know existed? Could I leave behind the chance to be part of something that felt so much like a dream come true?
"Is everything okay?" Colby asked, concern etching his features.
"Everything's… complicated," I admitted, feeling the weight of the decision pressing down on me like a physical force.
"Oh! That reminds me," he said, his voice bubbling with barely contained excitement. "I've got something you need to read. Maybe it'll cheer you up." He turned and sorted through the pile of stuff he kept behind the counter — the one thing I'd yet to convince him to organize, and came out with a stack of papers.
"Colby—" I started, trying to get to the point.
