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I knew better than to trust anyone.
I wordlessly pull away from his touch and slip out from under the sheets. My feet hit the cold floor, and I'm moving, gathering my scattered clothes in trembling hands. "No worries, Officer. I get it. Lines and rules and all that jazz."
"Lori—" His voice cracks, loaded with things unsaid, promises unmade.
"Save it," I cut him off, my tone lighter than I feel. "Wouldn't want to make your job harder than it already is."
I dress quickly, ignoring the sting behind my eyes and the hollow feeling in my chest. When I'm decent, I throw him a mock salute and force a smile. "Thanks for the service, officer. I'll see myself out."
And then I run. Out of his bedroom, out of his apartment, out of the possibility of us. Because I can't stay and watch Doug pick his conscience over me—not when it costs me my heart.
CHAPTER FIVE
Doug
My feet pound the pavement, each step a sharp echo in the cacophony of New York's relentless buzz. I shove my way through clumps of tourists, my heart thumping wilder than the beat of street musicians drumming on upturned buckets.
"Sorry," I grunt as I shoulder past a hotdog vendor, his yell drowned out by the squeal of taxi brakes and the relentless hum of city life.
Must find Lori. Must find Lori.
My brain is a damn broken record stuck on that one track. The need to see her, to explain, to make things right with her, it's like a fire under my ass, propelling me forward.
"Watch it, buddy!" someone snaps as I sidestep a couple locked in a selfie session. They're oblivious to my urgency, to the storm of regret brewing inside me.
My breaths are labored, and I’m internally cursing myself with every stride. What the hell was I thinking? Letting my guard down, letting desire lead me into murky waters when I should've been the anchor. I didn’t want Lori to think I was taking advantage of her. But the ran she ran from me…it’s clear she thought something else.
She thinks I regret it.
And that kills me. How can she think that? She’s mine, dammit. Mine! She’s everything to me. Tonight, holding her finally, was the best moment of my entire life.
I duck around a stroller, narrowly avoiding a collision with a toddler's ice cream cone. The kid's wail fades as I leave chaos in my wake. The weight of my mistake feels like I'm dragging an anchor now, but there's no time to wallow in self-pity. I grit my teeth, the taste of desperation bitter on my tongue. Got to find Lori. I have to tell her...
"Excuse me! Police business!" I shout, not sure if the badge I'm not currently wearing offers any weight to my plea. But it parts the sea of people enough for me to surge ahead.
"Sorry" and "excuse me" are becoming my new mantra, but they feel empty compared to the pounding guilt. My own stupidity, it's like a punch to the gut, a reminder that I crossed lines I never should've even eyed from a distance.
"Where are you, Lori?" I whisper to no one, scanning faces that blur into an indistinct mass of humanity. Her green eyes, like some damn beacon, I'm searching for them in an ocean of strangers.
A gust of wind whips past, carrying with it the smells of street food and exhaust, and for a second, just a split second, I imagine it's her scent. That mix of floral shampoo and something uniquely Lori. It's enough to fuel another block, another mile, however much further I have to go.
With each intersection, I push harder, ignoring the stitch in my side and the burn in my lungs. The city's a labyrinth, but I'm driven by something primal, something that doesn't give a damn about odds or logic.
And so, I run. Through the crowded streets of New York, chasing after a girl who's become my sudden, unexpected everything.
* * *
I trudge back through the door of my apartment, slamming it shut behind me. The silence that greets me is a stark contrast to the cacophony of the city I've just left. My chest heaves as I lean back against the cold wood, letting out a ragged breath. "Damn it!" I curse as I rake a hand through my hair. I should've been on my guard, should've seen the signs in those guarded green eyes.
The thought of Lori out there somewhere, alone and probably scared, twists my guts into knots. I pace the room like a caged animal, the image of her walking away burning on the back of my eyelids.
Over the next few days, I hit the pavement with a vengeance. Every fiber of my being is laser-focused on finding Lori. I visit all her usual haunts, those little nooks of New York that she lit up just by stepping into them. The soup kitchen, the alleys she loiters in, the coffee shop she likes to slip into just because she likes to smell the coffee even though she can’t afford a cup.
My heart constricts. Never again, I vow. Never again will she want for anything when I find her.
"Seen this girl around?" I ask again and again, thrusting my phone with her picture at anyone who'll give me the time of day. Some shrug, others shake their heads, a few offer a vague, "Maybe." It's never enough, but I keep asking, driven by a cocktail of love and pure, relentless hope.
I practically wear a groove in the sidewalk from my constant back-and-forth. I'm a man possessed, every rejection only stoking the fire. I can't eat, can't think straight. All I can do is search for Lori, chase after that connection that felt so damn right and yet so complicated.
