#pedropascalsmut

I left the office to go to a site. I didn't need to go but it was a better alternative than being stuck in that office with her. I didn't even hear the door click shut behind me over the sound of my own heartbeat. Didn't matter. What's done is done.

And for once, I was glad she shut me out. Glad she didn't try to argue or cry or ask me why. I saw that tear, yeah but I also saw the way she squared her shoulders after. The way she pretended I was just a boss, just another asshole with a title. She was quick about it, cold in that way she didn't usually let herself be. I hated it but I needed it.

We'd finished the week. She'd get her hours. and then we'd both move the hell on. That was the deal now.

By the time I got to the job site, I felt lighter. Not good, but lighter. I walked the perimeter, checked in with the foreman, barked out a few corrections on framing measurements that had been pissing me off for a week. The guys gave me space, they always did when I came in tight like this.

By the time I wrapped up and got back to the office, the sun was already slanting low. I pulled into the lot, half-expecting her car to still be there.

It wasn't.

I looked toward her desk and saw the neat stack of papers, everything in order. Final job listings, organized by deadline. A printed summary of contacts, notes from a guy we hired the week prior and a list of tasks she'd scheduled out in the project manager for the next three weeks.

Didn't say goodbye. Didn't leave a note. Just dropped everything off like she couldn't stand to be in the same room another second longer. I'm honestly surprised she left everything so neat. It felt like I deserved to come back to my office wrecked.

I sat at my desk for a while, flipping through the papers like they mattered more than they did. In reality, I didn't read a single word. I decided it was best to head home before I let my mind start to wander again.

The house was quiet when I got in. Sarah had left a note on the fridge "Out with friends. Don't wait up. Love you.". She always left me notes like this. That same casual handwriting .

I dropped my keys on the counter, peeled off my shirt, and made my way down the hall without turning on a single light. The weight of the day hadn't hit me until I stood in the bathroom, door shut behind me, the only sound was my own breath.

I turned the water on hot. Let the steam rise. Then stepped in.

It was a relief, more than anything. The kind that sinks into your bones and slows everything down. My shoulders dropped for the first time all day, the heat pulling the tension out inch by inch. I tilted my head back, let the spray hit my face.

But I couldn't stop seeing her.

She'd stood right here. Arms raised, eyes closed, water running down her chest, her stomach, her thighs. The way her hair clung to her skin. The way she used to look at me like I was the only man alive.

I used to stand here and watch her. I used to trace her with my eyes like I was memorizing every curve, every freckle, every goddamn breath she took.

I pressed a hand to the tile. Let the water beat against my back. It felt relieving. Like maybe I could scrub the memory off me if I stayed in here long enough. I knew I was lying to myself.

I got out once the mirror fogged over and the bathroom felt too warm to breathe in. Toweled off slow, dragged a hand through my hair, still half-lost in that space between numb and remembering.

I picked up my phone knowing it wasn't the best to be alone tonight.

You around tonight? Could use a visit.

Tommy replied quick.

On my way.

I tossed the phone back on the counter and grabbed a clean shirt from the laundry room.

I didn't want to be alone tonight. Not with these ghosts. Not with the feel of her still stuck somewhere in my memory.

Tommy showed up about twenty minutes after I texted, six-pack in one hand, that look on his face like he already knew I wasn't doing great. He let himself in door and shut it behind him with his boot.

"You look like hell." He said looking up at me.

I didn't bother denying it. Just cracked open a beer and leaned against the counter. "Feel it. Thanks for the warm welcome."

"You sleepin'?"

I didn't answer.

He took a sip and tilted his head. "That's a no."

We moved to the living room, quiet for a while, just the low buzz of some late-night sports show I didn't bother muting. Tommy kicked his feet up, leaned back like he had nowhere better to be.

We caught up on work and I let him know Sarah was in town. He perked up and immediately started making plans. If there was one thing Tommy and I had in common, we loved that girl. After a few beers, tommy opened up about his personal shit.

"I've been seein' someone," he said. "Sorta. I don't know. Met her at the bar near that job we had in Houston. Kinda fiery. Got that look like she knows how to hurt a man and enjoy it."

I let out a dry chuckle. "Sounds like your type."

"Yeah, well, turns out she's also real fond of her ex. Calls me his name in bed."

I raised an eyebrow. "Fuck."

"Exactly. I told her, next time she does that, I'm walkin'. She said maybe I should take it as a compliment."

We sat in silence after that, both sipping our beers, both pretending like that wasn't sad as hell.

Eventually, I ran a hand down my face.

Tommy glanced over. "Alright. Your turn."

"What?" I answered caught off guard.

"You didn't invite me here just to listen to my shit, Joel. Spill it."

I hesitated. I didn't want to tell him or anyone in the first place. It feltlike if I started, I wouldn't be able to stop. Still, I didn't look at him when I spoke.

"You remember Theo?"

"Your buddy from the old crew? From Austin?"

"Yeah. Him."

He gave a nod. "Sure. Family guy."

"Had a daughter," I said, and the minute I said it, I felt the weight shift. "Olivia."

Tommy squinted, thinking. "Wait... was she the quiet one? Used to hang around with Sarah all the time."

I gave a faint nod. "That's her."

He blinked. "She can't be more than..."

"Twenty-two."

That shut him up for a second.

"She came back this summer," I went on. "College internship. Theo reached out, asked if I could bring her on part-time, show her some of the ropes."

Tommy didn't say anything, but I could feel him watching me.

"It started out innocent. Professional. She was curious. Didn't just do the work. She asked questions, wanted to know why things worked the way they did."

I took another sip. My mouth was dry anyway.

"She got under my skin. Not in a loud way. Just... little things. The way she looked at me when she thought I wasn't payin' attention. The way she listened."

Tommy leaned forward slowly. "Dammit Joel."

"I know," I snapped. "Don't say it. Just...don't."

He backed off, held up a hand. "Alright."

"I didn't plan it," I muttered. "Didn't mean for anything to happen. But it did."

He sat there for a second, eyebrows drawn together. "Happen how?"

I gave him a hard look.

His jaw clenched. "You slept with her?"

I didn't answer, but it was enough.

Tommy stood up, started pacing. "Jesus, Joel. You realize what kind of trouble that could cause?"

"I know."

"She's your friend's daughter."

"I know."

He stopped pacing. "And she's young. Like—young young."

"I said I fuckin' know," I snapped, sharper than I meant to. Silence fell between us like a hammer.

He rubbed a hand down his face. "Alright. Okay. You didn't bring me here to yell at you. I just...shit. This is a lot."

I looked down at my hands. "You think I don't know that?"

He sat again, slower this time. "So what, you in love with her?"

"I'm not talkin' about that."

"Because you don't know, or because you do and you don't want to admit it?"

I stayed quiet.

Tommy sighed. "Alright. Look—I'm not saying it's right. Hell, it's messy. But if you really care about her..."

"I already let it go."

Tommy's brow furrowed. "You mean you ended it?"

I nodded once. "Had to. Told her it couldn't happen again. Told her it was over."

He looked at me for a long beat. "She take that well?"

I let out a breath. "She didn't beg. Didn't cry. Just... shut me out. Got real quiet, real fast. Packed up my work, left the office like I was a stranger."

Tommy whistled low. "Damn."

"I figured it was the right thing to do. I mean—hell, it is the right thing. She's too young. There's a hundred reasons I shouldn't have gone near her."

"But?" Tommy asked, already knowing there was one.

"But I can't stop thinkin' about her," I admitted, barely above a whisper. "Still see her face every time I close my eyes. Still hear her laugh when the house is quiet."

Tommy didn't say anything. Just listened.

"And Sarah almost caught her."

That made him sit up. "What?"

I nodded, slow. "I sent her home that morning, early. We'd spent the night. She stayed over, and I—I was stupid. Got caught up. Sarah pulled up out front and I damn near threw myself out the back door."

Tommy leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. "Man..."

"Yeah," I said. "Tell me about it."

"You ever think about tellin' her the truth? Sarah, I mean."

"No." My answer was immediate, solid. "That'd break her. I already crossed one line—draggin' her into it would burn everything down."

Tommy ran a hand through his hair. "So what now?"

I didn't answer right away. Just stared down at the floor.

"I don't know," I finally said. "I tried to end it. I really did. But she's still in my head. Still feels like she's everywhere, even when she ain't here."

Tommy nodded, slow. "You know... I give you shit, 'cause I'm your brother and it's easy. But I know you, Joel. You don't lose your head like this unless it means somethin'. And maybe this ain't what you wanted. Maybe it ain't even what makes sense. But if you keep tryin' to pretend you don't feel it? It's gonna eat you alive."

I swallowed hard. Didn't say anything. Couldn't.

Because deep down, I already knew he was right.

"And you need to figure out what the hell you want, and soon. 'Cause if you don't? You're just gonna tear both of you apart tryin' to pretend it didn't happen."

"She's probably over all of this already." I said trying to knock the idea from my head.

"You're a grown man and you're feeling this way. You think the 20 year old girl is over it?"

I chuckled, realizing maybe things could get better. I finished the beer and let the bottle rest on my knee. My voice came out low.

"She was the only thing that made me feel anything like that in a long time."

Tommy looked at me for a beat, softer now. "That's all you had to say."

I didn't reply. Just stared at the TV like it held answers I wasn't gonna get tonight.

But it felt better. Not good but lighter. And that was enough, for now.

Tommy cracked another beer, this one slower. His mood had evened out some. Mine too. The air between us had settled, heavier but clearer. Like dragging everything out into the open let us both breathe again.

We didn't say much for a while, both of us staring at the TV like the score of a game we weren't actually watching had any real meaning.

Then the sound of the front door opening cut through the quiet. Keys hit the hook on the wall. Footsteps padded in, light and familiar.

Tommy sat up straighter, already grinning. "That her?"

"Yeah," I said, just as Sarah stepped into the room, hoodie half-zipped, and her hair a little messy.

"Hey," she smiled, stopping in the doorway when she saw Tommy. "No way."

Tommy stood and opened his arms like she was still a little kid. "There's my girl."

Sarah laughed and walked right into his arms, wrapping around him like nothing had changed. Like she still remembered sitting on his shoulders at state fairs and begging him to sneak her treats when I said no.

"You didn't tell me he would be here tonight." she said to me over his shoulder.

"Didn't know he was gonna be. He just shows up sometimes."

Tommy pulled back, giving her a once-over. "Yeah right."

Sarah flopped onto the couch between us, like it was all hers. "So what're y'all doing? Solving the world's problems?"

"Somethin' like that," I said, and Tommy chuckled.

Sarah smiled, but it was softer now. Quieter. She looked between us, two men worn down by life, beer bottles on the table, the TV humming low and I swear, for a second, I saw something settle behind her eyes. Like just being here with both of us made her feel safe. Like this room still felt like home.

"You guys always look like this when you talk?" she asked. "All broody and serious?"

Tommy laughed. "Only when your dad's confessing deep emotional turmoil."

I shot him a look, but Sarah just smirked. "Sounds about right."

She leaned back into the cushions, let her head fall against my shoulder. Like when she was little and couldn't sleep unless she knew I was right there.

Tommy tilted his beer toward Sarah. "You keep this one grounded, alright? He's a mess without you."

Sarah smiled, eyes half-closed already. "Always have."

I looked down at her, at the girl who still managed to remind me who I was without ever trying. Then up at Tommy, who'd sat with me through the worst of it tonight without flinching.

It didn't fix anything. Not really. But it reminded me of who I had. Who I still was, underneath it all. And maybe that was enough to hold onto. For now.

Tommy ended up staying the night and I headed up to bed once I saw him dozing off. I actually slept well after ending off the night with both of them. The comfort of us being together again made me forget about my racing thoughts.

——————————-

Driving in felt heavier than usual. I was starting to feel like every morning for the rest of the week was gonna feel like some kind of performance. I rubbed a hand down my face, sighed, then got out and walked in.

She was already at her desk.

And of course, she was wearing a tight black skirt again. The kind that clung to her. The kind that made me wonder if I ever actually had control around her, or if I'd just been telling myself that all along.

The blouse was silk or something close to it, a low neckline and soft enough to stick to her skin like it wanted to be touched. Her legs were crossed, one heel bouncing absently while she typed something. Didn't look up when I walked in.

Christ.

I dropped my stuff and stood there, watching her a second too long. Couldn't help myself. She was doing it on purpose. She had to be.

Or maybe she had plans. Maybe she was going out after. Seeing someone. That thought put a sharp crack through my chest before I could shut it down.

I cleared my throat, voice flat. "You got a date or somethin' after work?"

She paused, slow and deliberate, like she wanted me to know I'd interrupted something more important than me. Finally looked up at me through her lashes. Eyes sharp. A smirk pulling at her mouth.

"Why?" she said. "You jealous?"

There it was. The bite.

I clenched my jaw. "Just a question."

"And I answered it."

My hands curled into fists in my pockets. "Not really."

She cocked her head, leaned back in the chair like she was getting comfortable with pissing me off. "Maybe I do. Maybe I don't. What's it to you. You're just my boss right?"

My mouth opened. Nothing came out at first.

Because she was right.

Was I pissed because some other guy might see her like this? Touch her? Or was I pissed because I wanted her, even if I'd spent the last few days acting like I didn't?

She was watching me, enjoying the way I didn't answer right away. She knew exactly what she was doing.

"Wherever you're goin'," I muttered, finally, "hope he's got the sense to keep his hands to himself."

She smiled at that. Fake. "Doubt it."

Then she turned back to her computer, like that was the end of the conversation. Like she hadn't just lit a fire in my chest and walked away from it.

"Drop the attitude," I said, low.

She let out a short, humorless laugh. "You don't get to ask me that."

"I'm askin' anyway."

Another pause. I watched the tension move through her shoulders, the way her jaw tightened like she was trying to keep it together.

Then, softer, she said, "You fucked me over, Joel."

My chest pulled tight.

"I know," I said.

She glanced at me again, and this time there wasn't fire in her eyes. Just something duller.

"Well," she said, sitting up a little straighter, "doesn't matter much now, does it?"

Silence stretched out between us again, heavy and uncomfortable.

Then she exhaled. "But, fine. I'll drop it." She looked at me again, softer now. "I don't want to spend the next couple days pretending like we don't know each other. That's worse."

I nodded, a little too quickly. "Yeah. I appreciate that."

She gave a little shrug like it wasn't a big deal, but it was. I knew it was.

"I'll be good," she added, tapping her keyboard again. "Friendly. If you can handle that."

"Reckon I can," I said, but my voice was rough. I sat down at my desk, finally ready to start the day.

I sat down and leaned back in my chair. The awkwardness had lifted, even if just slightly. Felt like I could breathe again.

She was still typing, a rhythm I'd come to recognize over the past couple weeks. The silence between us wasn't uncomfortable anymore, and I was just starting to get into the mindset to work when I saw her stand up.

I glanced up, confused. "You heading out?"

She hovered for a second, arms crossed over her chest like she was bracing for something. "No. Just..." Her lips pressed together. She looked anywhere but at me. "Can I... can I have a hug?"

That pulled me back. "A hug?"

Her shoulders dropped. "Yeah. I've had a rough couple of days, and I think you owe me one."

I blinked, caught between being thrown off and feeling something in my chest crack a little. "Thought I was just your boss."

She gave me a look, unimpressed. "Shut up."

I stood slowly, meeting her in the space between our desks. There was hesitation in her eyes, the kind that made my hands feel like they didn't belong anywhere until she stepped closer. She didn't say anything else, just slipped her arms around my waist, face pressing lightly into my chest.

I froze for half a second then let my arms fold around her. Careful.

She felt warm and familiar. My throat tightened.

Her fingers curled lightly into the back of my shirt. "This doesn't mean anything," she mumbled, voice low against me. "Didn't say it did."

Fuck, it did.

I felt her take a breath, slow and shaky, and suddenly I wasn't thinking about work, or Sarah, or the million reasons I should've stepped away from this.

She didn't step away but instead she looked up at me. We looked at each other for a second and we both started moving in. Letting everything we just said go to shit. I was just thinking about her and I wasn't sure who would be the first to move.

The door opened.

Olivia stepped back so fast it felt like she vanished. I turned, pulse already hammering in my ears and there she was.

Sarah.

Holding her keys, dressed casual, a little confused, blinking between the two of us like her brain was still catching up.

"Hey," she said slowly. "Am I... interrupting something?"

Olivia straightened, gave this awkward, too-sweet smile. "Hi. Wow. Sarah, it's nice to see you again."

Sarah's brows shot up. "Wait. Olivia?"

Olivia nodded, her voice a little more careful now. "Yeah. I didn't know you'd be here."

Sarah turned to me next, eyes narrowing. Not angry, just surprised, like she was trying to fit pieces together that didn't make sense. "You said you didn't know her."

Shit.

I rubbed a hand across my jaw, avoiding both their eyes. "Didn't realize who she was. Not at first."

Olivia looked at me, a crease forming in her brow, but she didn't say anything.

Sarah gave a dry laugh, shaking her head. "You saw her Instagram. You said you didn't recognize her, and now she's in your office?"

"I wasn't lying," I said, too firm. "She started interning here for school."

"Right." She knew I was lying.

Olivia cleared her throat, stepping in, voice soft. "I should've said something. It's just been a long time, and I didn't want to make it weird."

Sarah let out a breath. "This is... a little weird."

"Yeah," Olivia said, nodding. "It is."

Sarah's gaze slid between us again, still reading the room, slower this time. "I just came by to grab my shoes out of your truck, left them there on Saturday "

"They're in the back," I said, already moving. "I'll go with you."

"No, it's fine. I can—"

"I said I'll go with you."

She paused, watching me for a second. "Okay. Um, nice to see you Olivia."

We walked out in silence.

The heat hit me the second we stepped outside, but it didn't do a damn thing to break the chill creeping up the back of my neck. Sarah kept pace beside me, quiet, but I could feel the weight of her stare like she was digging through every second she'd just witnessed.

My keys jingled too loud in my hand as I unlocked the truck and popped the back open. Her shoes were right there, shoved into the corner of the seat. I leaned in to grab them, kept my back to her longer than I needed to.

"You're gonna tell me what's going on?" she asked, voice calm. Too calm.

I handed her the shoes. "Ain't nothin' goin' on."

She blinked, gave me a flat look. "Right. So you're just hugging a girl you 'don't know,' who happens to be my childhood friend, who also happens to be working with you." I scoffed, and started to shut the door.

"I'm not stupid, Dad."

That stopped me.

She didn't say it cruel. Just honest. The way she always did when she knew she was right.

"It was already... complicated." I said, jaw tight.

Her eyes narrowed. "Complicated how?"

I looked away. "She's workin' with me. I'm supposed to be her mentor. Her dad trusted me with that. It ain't supposed to be anything else."

"But it is."

I didn't answer. I didn't have to.

She shook her head, one arm crossed over her stomach, clutching her shoes like she wasn't sure what to do with them. "Jesus, Dad."

"I didn't plan it, alright? It just happened."

"That doesn't make it better."

I exhaled through my nose. "I know."

There was silence for a few seconds, the kind that scraped at the inside of my skull. Then she said, more quietly, "Are you like dating her?"

"I stared down at the gravel. "Yea, well...not anymore."

Sarah didn't say anything for a long moment. Then finally "She's, like, twenty."

"Twenty-two."

She blinked. "Oh. Well, that makes it so much better."

I let out a bitter laugh. "I know how it looks."

"Do you?" she snapped, and for a second her voice cracked. "Because I really don't think you do. You lied to me. I showed you her picture and you looked me in the eye and said you didn't know her. But you did. And now she's working here, and you're hugging her in your office like—"

"I didn't mean for you to find out like this."

"No?" she said. "Then how were you gonna tell me? Or were you just hoping I'd never figure it out?"

"You know, I don't care if you're seeing someone," she said after a moment. Her voice wasn't angry.

I looked at her. That stopped me more than if she'd yelled.

"I mean it," she said. "It's not about her. It's just the way you lied. That's what feels weird. You could've told me. You didn't have to make it a secret. That makes it look worse than it probably is."

I leaned back against the truck, arms crossed, eyes on the ground. "I didn't know what the hell I was doin'. Still don't, if I'm honest."

She gave a small laugh. "Well... she's cute and smart. So I get it."

I glanced at her, brow raised. "Don't say that."

"What? She is. I remember even in high school all the guys were obsessed with her." She grinned a little. "You've got taste."

I shook my head. "Jesus."

"But seriously," she said, voice softening again. "You don't have to keep things from me. I'm not a kid. And if she makes you happy, even if it's weird and complicated, just be honest about it."

I looked at her, chest tight. "You're not mad?"

"No," she said. "I'm just surprised. And maybe a little weirded out."

"That makes two of us."

She gave me a little smile. "So. Are you gonna tell her you obviously still want her or just keep awkwardly hugging her in your office when you think no one's watching?"

I groaned. "Alright. Enough."

She laughed to herself and patted me on the shoulder walking to the car. "I'll see you at home."

I stood there a while after she left.

Just me, the heat, and the sound of the wind rattling through the parking lot.

Sarah wasn't mad. That should've been a relief. Hell, it was a relief. But it didn't make this any easier.

But maybe hiding it wasn't working anymore.

Maybe it was time to stop pretending this was just a job. That I could keep her close and hold everything else at arm's length.

I looked back toward the building, jaw tight.

She was in there and if I walked back in and pretended like that conversation hadn't happened, like Sarah hadn't seen what she saw, like Olivia and I were still playing it safe.

I'd lose her for good.

I knew that now.

The air felt different now.

Like something had shifted. Like maybe, for the first time in weeks, this could actually go somewhere. I wasn't ready to call it hope, but it was close.

Sarah hadn't been mad. She just wanted honesty. And maybe Olivia would feel the same. Maybe I'd been holding on too tight to my doubts. Letting the fear of it all falling apart keep me from seeing what was right in front of me.

I could do this. I could be with her.

But when I rounded the corner and saw her desk, that feeling dropped out from under me. She was standing, bag open, things already half-packed.

"What are you doing?" I said, keeping my distance.

She didn't look at me. Just kept packing. "I'm going home. Gonna finish my work there."

Something twisted in my chest. "Why?"

"Because I'm uncomfortable, Joel," she snapped. "What do you think?"

"I didn't know Sarah was gonna show up."

"That's not the point," she said, finally looking at me, eyes sharp and shining. "She showed up, and you looked like you'd seen a ghost. I shouldn't have even touched you"

I stepped closer, my voice drier. "Don't say that."

She laughed. "No? 'Didn't know her,' right? That's what you told her."

"I didn't mean it like that."

"Then how did you mean it?" she asked, arms crossed tight across her chest. "Because from where I was standing, it felt like I'm something that only belongs behind closed doors."

"I was trying to protect you," I said. "Protect us."

"No," she said, stepping back, "you're trying to protect your family."

I froze.

Her voice cracked when she continued. "And I get it. I do. You have Sarah. You've got this whole life, this world that I don't fit into."

"Don't say that."

She shook her head. "Why not? It's true, Joel. We don't live in the same world. You've got a house, a daughter, responsibilities I'll never understand. And I'm... what? A phase? A distraction?"

"No," I said, sharper than I meant to. "You're not—God, you're not just some distraction ."

"I fell for you," she said suddenly, voice low. "That day you took me to the creek? That's when it hit. That's when I started seeing you not as some complicated, off-limits man, but as someone I wanted."

I didn't speak. Couldn't.

"But I'm not just trying to play house with you," she went on, and now she was shaking. "I'm not pretending we're something we're not. I don't need some fantasy. I needed you. And today just proved I could never be part of your life to begin with."

"I want this. I want you." I said desperately.

"Then why didn't you at least tell her I was interning? You're lying to everyone including yourself." Her voice cracked again.

"I didn't think it through," I said, barely above a whisper. "I thought... keepin' it quiet meant I was keepin' it safe. But maybe you're right. Maybe I was just lying to myself. Scared of ruining this"

"It's already ruined, Joel." She finally grabs her things in one motion and heads for the door. I don't know what to do, how to stop her. I said more than I thought I ever could.

"Liv, come on."

She stopped at the door, her hand on the handle, and for a second I thought maybe she'd turn around. That maybe I'd said just enough.

She looked over her shoulder, jaw tight, eyes rimmed red. "Don't fucking call me that."

The door clicked shut behind her, the sound final in a way that hit harder than I expected.

I stood there, watching the empty space she'd left behind, my arms limp at my sides. The air that just minutes ago felt hopeful, heavy with maybe, was gone. Dropped right out from under me.

I let out a breath and sank into the chair nearest me, elbows to knees, hands dragging down my face. Embarrassed at my effort and my confession.

She was right. Every damn word of it.

I thought I was doing the right thing. That I was shielding her from the mess I've made of my life. But that wasn't protection. That was fear, fear of what would happen if anyone knew how badly I wanted her. How badly I still do.

I didn't protect her. I hurt her. And worse, I made her feel like she didn't belong. Made her feel like she was just some play pretend.

In the movies, this is the part where the guy chases her down the hallway, says something that flips the whole thing around, makes it right again. But this wasn't a movie. This was me, sitting in a cold, quiet office, realizing I'd never let myself want something this much. And I'd pushed it away.

I'm not the type to force things. Never have been. If something wasn't mine, I let it go. That's just how I was built. But this time felt different. She felt different.

I stood up before I even knew what I was doing, grabbing my keys off the desk with a quiet curse. I should've called, should've waited, should've given her space but I couldn't. Not this time. Not when she still thought she was just some phase.

By the time I hit the road, my hands were tight on the wheel, knuckles pale with nerves. I drove like I was on autopilot through streets I barely registered, heart thudding loud in my chest the whole way.

But when I turned onto her street, it hit me. That wave of doubt, thick and sharp.

What the fuck am I doing. Showin up only makes things worse. She said it herself, she's done. I slowed, my foot hovering over the brake, tempted to back out.

Then I saw her. She was just getting out of her car, bag slung over one shoulder, her hair tied back, head down like the day had already wrung her out completely.

I pulled over without thinking, killed the engine, and stepped out.

She looked up at the sound of my door closing—and froze.

Her brows pulled together, voice cautious. "What are you doing here?"

I opened my mouth, but the words got caught somewhere halfway up my throat. All that certainty I had behind the wheel, all the conviction, it cracked when I saw her.

"I... I don't know," I said, hands loose at my sides. "Swear to God, I feel like I blacked out or somethin'. I just couldn't let you leave like that."

She stared at me, jaw clenched, saying nothing. I couldn't tell if she was pissed or just stunned.

"I know I fucked it up," I went on, stepping closer, slower now. "And I'm not here to make excuses. I just — I need you to hear me out."

There was a long beat where she didn't say a word. She just looked at me like she was trying to figure out if this was real, if I was really standing on her driveway. After everything I said, everything I didn't.

Then finally, her shoulders dropped a little. She glanced toward the house, then back at me.

"Fine," she muttered. "Come inside."

I followed her in, quiet, the tension so thick I could barely breathe. She didn't look at me as she kicked off her shoes, didn't wait for me to catch up as she walked down the hall. I followed anyway.

We ended up in the living room, the silence between us heavy. She stayed standing near the arm of the couch, arms crossed again, like it was her armor. Like letting me in meant she had to guard herself harder.

"Okay," she said. "Five minutes."

I nodded, taking a breath that felt like it scraped down my chest. "I panicked. I looked at Sarah and I panicked, and instead of owning it, I said the most cowardly thing I could've said. And the second I did... I wanted to take it back."

Her face didn't change. She didn't interrupt. Just listened. I pressed on.

"I didn't mean it. You know that, right? I didn't mean you, I meant the situation. I thought if I could just keep it separate, maybe it wouldn't fall apart. But I see now... I was never protecting you. And that's on me."

I watched her jaw twitch, saw the way she blinked a few times, fast. But she still didn't say anything.

"I'm not good at this," I said. "At wantin' things. At takin' 'em when they're right in front of me. Always figured if I kept my head down, did my job, kept things clean, I wouldn't risk screwin' it all up."

"But you did," she said finally, voice quiet.

"I know," I said. "I know I did."

A pause.

"I don't want to be a secret," she said. "I don't want to feel like I'm just someone you fuck behind locked doors."

"You're not," I said, firmer now. "I want you," I said, stepping closer. "Not just for a weekend. Not just when things are easy. I want to figure it out, even if it's messy at first. Even if your dad wants to kill me. Even if we have to slow it down."

Her arms uncrossed slowly. I could see her soften—just a little, just enough. She ran a hand over her face like she was trying to wipe away the last few hours.

She exhaled slowly, bracing her palms in her lap. "When I was younger... middle school, even high school, it always felt like if a boy liked me, he had to pretend he didn't."

I didn't interrupt. I just watched her, listened.

"I wasn't the prettiest. I was awkward. Quiet. I had braces forever, wore the wrong jeans." She smiled faintly but it didn't reach her eyes. "The boys would joke around with me when no one was looking. Text me late at night. But in public? It was like I didn't exist."

My hands balled into fists slowly, instinctively.

"And then in college, I met someone who felt different," she went on. "He was older too. Charming and kind. Said all the right things. We weren't serious, but he made me feel like we could be. Behind closed doors, at least."

I could feel my jaw tighten. Her confession felt all too familiar.

"But when his friends were around?" she said, shaking her head. "We'd go to parties and he'd barely talk to me. Wouldn't sit next to me. He'd find me later, alone, say he just didn't want people in our business. That we were better when it was just us. And I let it slide," she said. "Because he made me feel important in private. Because I thought that was better than nothing."

Her voice broke a little.

"But when I saw your face today, when Sarah walked in, I knew that feeling. And I know the situation is different, I know this is your family. But it was that same gut-punch. That same invisible ache." Her head fell, she looked down at the floor scanning around nervously.

"Liv," I said, stepping closer, my voice rough with guilt. I reached out, tilting her chin up gently, forcing her to look at me. "You shouldn't ever feel like that with anyone, especially me. I hate that someone made you feel that way before. Hate myself more for makin' you feel it again."

She didn't pull away, just held my gaze, her eyes searching mine like she was waiting for me to prove it. "I know you didn't mean to," she said softly. "But it doesn't make it hurt less."

"I know," I said, my thumb brushing her cheek, "You're everything I've been too scared to admit I wanted. You could be in a crowd, and I'd still want to reach for you, want everyone to know you're mine. Fuck, I'd shout it if you asked."

Her breath hitched, a flicker of something softening in her expression, like the ice was starting to crack. "Don't say that unless you mean it," she said, her voice shaky but firm.

"I do," I said, no hesitation, "Every fucking word."

The air between us shifted, heavy with everything we'd laid bare. I leaned in, slow, giving her time to pull back, my heart pounding like I was a kid again. She didn't move, just watched me, her lips parting slightly, and that was all the permission I needed. I kissed her, a soft press of my lips to hers, trying to show her I wanted her. I really wanted her. My hand cupped her face, the other resting on her waist, and I felt her tense for a moment, like she was still guarding herself.

Then she kissed me back, hesitant, her lips moving softly against mine, testing me. The warmth of her, the faint taste of mint on her breath, it pulled me in, and I deepened the kiss, my fingers threading into her hair, my body pressing closer. I wanted her to feel it, to know I wasn't hiding anymore. Her hands found my chest, fingers curling into my shirt, and the kiss grew hungrier, more desperate, like we were both letting go of the doubt.

I pulled back just enough to look at her, my forehead resting against hers, our breaths mingling. "I'm sorry," I murmured.

She nodded, her eyes glassy but softer now, and kissed me again, harder this time, her hands sliding up to my shoulders. The couch was right behind her, and I guided her back, gentle but firm, laying her over the arm so she was half-reclined, her body open to me. I followed, bracing myself above her, one hand on the couch, the other cupping her face as I kissed her deeper, my tongue brushing hers, slow and deliberate. Her legs parted slightly, and I settled between them, feeling the heat of her, the way she arched into me, her breath hitching.

The kiss turned molten, all heat and need, her hands tugging at my shirt like she couldn't get close enough. I groaned into her mouth, my hand sliding down her side, tracing the curve of her hip, pulling her tighter against me. I whispered against her lips, my voice thick, "Take me to your room."

She froze for a second, her eyes searching mine, and I saw the flicker of hesitation, the question of whether this was real. But then she nodded, her lips brushing mine in a quick, soft kiss before she slid out from under me, standing on shaky legs. "Okay," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, and she took my hand, leading me up the stairs.

Her room was small, a time capsule of her, untouched since she'd been back for the break. The walls were a faded lavender, covered with posters of indie bands and a corkboard pinned with polaroids, concert tickets, and notes in her loopy handwriting. A shelf held a jumble of well-loved books—classics like Pride and Prejudice next to battered sci-fi novels—and a collection of sea shells. The bed was a mess of colorful blankets, a worn stuffed bear half-buried in the pillows, and soft glow of lights strung over the headboard. A small desk in the corner was cluttered with a half-burned candle. The air carried a faint vanilla scent, warm and familiar, like her. Every detail screamed Olivia. It made my chest ache, seeing how she'd never tried to be anything but who she was, while I'd spent so long hiding how much she meant to me.

She stopped in the middle of the room, her arms braced across her chest, that hesitation creeping back. I could see it in the way her shoulders tensed, the way her eyes flicked to the floor, like she was still guarding herself, still unsure if she could trust.

"Come here," I said, my voice low, soft, stepping closer but keeping enough space so she didn't feel cornered. I held out my hand, letting her choose.

She looked at me, her eyes searching, and after a beat, she stepped forward, taking my hand. I pulled her gently against me, my hands settling on her waist, and kissed her again, slow and deep, pouring everything into it. I wanted her to feel safe. Her hands slid up my chest, and she melted into the kiss, her body softening, the tension easing again.

I guided her back to the bed, but instead of laying her down, I sat on the edge, my hands on her hips, giving her space to step back if she needed it. I looked up at her, my eyes steady, letting her see I wasn't forcing this. But she didn't step back. Her gaze locked on mine, and she climbed onto my lap, straddling me, her thighs bracketing my hips. The weight of her, the heat of her against me, sent a jolt through me, and I groaned softly, my hands tightening on her waist.

I kissed her again, my lips trailing to her jaw, her neck, feeling her pulse under my mouth. My hands sliding under her shirt, rough palms grazing her skin. "Every time I'm with you, it's like I'm seein' you for the first time." I pulled her shirt over her head, tossing it aside, my eyes raking over her, taking in the soft curve of her shoulders, the black bra that hugged her perfectly. "I don't deserve you, but I'm gonna try to," I said, unhooking her bra, letting it fall, my hands cupping her breasts, thumbs brushing her nipples, drawing a soft moan from her.

I kissed her chest, slow and deliberate, my lips tracing the curve of her breast, my tongue flicking over her nipple, making her gasp. "You're everything." I murmured against her skin, my hands sliding down her sides, pulling her closer. I moved lower, kissing her stomach, my hands working her pants off, leaving her in just her panties. I looked up at her, her hair falling loose, her eyes half-lidded. I lifted her gently, laying her back on the bed, the colorful blankets soft beneath her.

I slid her panties down, tossing them aside, and settled between her thighs, my hands spreading her open, my lips brushing the inside of her thigh. " Wanna take my time with you," I said, my voice low, kissing her skin, slow and deliberate, working my way closer. My tongue traced her, slow and gentle at first, tasting her, feeling her tremble under me. I took my time, savoring every gasp, every hitch in her breath, my hands gripping her hips to keep her steady. "Always taste so fuckin' good," I murmured, my lips against her, my tongue circling her clit, slow and precise, drawing out a moan that made my blood run hot.

"Keep talking to me." she gasped, her hands tangling in my hair, her hips bucking, and I smiled against her, my tongue working her, deeper now, my lips closing around her, sucking gently. " 'Could stay here forever, just makin' you feel good." I dove back in, my tongue teasing her entrance, then flicking her clit, faster now, but still controlled, watching her reactions, learning what made her moan louder, what made her tremble.

Her moans grew desperate, her body arching, and I kept going, my hands sliding up to cup her breasts, pinching her nipples gently, making her cry out. "That's it, babygirl" I murmured, my lips brushing her, "let me hear you." I felt her getting close, her thighs trembling, her breaths coming faster, and I slowed down, drawing it out, wanting her to feel every second of it.

She came undone, her body shaking, her moan breaking into a cry as her orgasm hit, her hands gripping my hair, pulling me closer. I didn't stop, licking her through it, gentle now, drawing out every shudder, every pulse, until she was panting, her body limp beneath me. I kissed my way up her body, slow and tender, my lips lingering on her stomach, her chest, her neck, until I reached her lips, kissing her deep, letting her taste herself on me.

I pulled back, grabbing the blanket at the foot of the bed, draping it over us as I settled above her in missionary, wanting to feel closer, to wrap us in this moment. I kicked off my jeans and boxers, my shirt already gone, and positioned myself, my eyes locked on hers. "Am I the first one to fuck you on this bed?" I asked, my voice low, rough, my lips brushing her ear as I teased her entrance, slow and deliberate.

She nodded, her breath shaky. "Yeah," she whispered, her eyes locked on mine, a mix of vulnerability and want. "Just you."

A growl rumbled in my chest, the thought of being the only one. "Did you touch yourself here, thinkin' about me?" I asked, my hand sliding down her thigh, lifting her leg to wrap around me, feeling her heat against me.

"Yes," she gasped, her hips arching into me, her voice trembling with want. "Fuck, Joel, all the time." The thought of her in this bed, touching herself, thinking of me, made my chest tighten with a possessive kind of need. I kissed her hard, my tongue teasing hers, my thrusts slow and deep, savoring the way she clenched around me and the way her moans tasted.

"What'd you think about?" I asked, my voice low and rough, my lips brushing her ear as I held her gaze, my eyes locked on hers. "Tell me, angel. wanna hear you." I wanted every detail, wanted to know how she saw me in those moments, how I filled her mind when I wasn't here. My hands gripped her hips, guiding her into each thrust, deliberate, making her feel every inch of me.

She smiled, a soft, delicate sound that broke the intensity for a moment, her cheeks flushing as she looked at me, her eyes bright under the lights. The sound was so "God, Joel," she said, her voice light but shaky, her hands sliding up my arms, fingers tracing the muscles there. "The first time you fucked me —mhm—Your arms, The way you look at me, like you couldn't get enough."

I groaned, my thrusts slowing, deeper now, my eyes never leaving hers, drinking in every word. "Keep goin'," I murmured, my voice thick, one hand sliding up to cup her face, my thumb brushing her lips.

Her breath hitched, her eyes fluttering but holding mine, a mix of shy and bold. "Fuck—The way you fit in me," she whispered, her voice breaking into a moan as I thrust harder, just right, like she was describing. "thinking about how you stretched me, how you made me shake." She moaned again, softer, her cheeks pink, and it was the sweetest damn thing.

"Jesus—" I growled, my lips crashing into hers, trying to stop myself from finishing right there. The bed creaking under us, the blanket slipping slightly. "You're killin' me," I said against her mouth, my hand sliding between us, fingers circling her clit, wanting her to feel it all over again. "Think about you too, every damn night, how you feel, how you sound." Her moans grew louder, her body trembling, and I held her gaze, letting her see how much she meant.

She gasped, her hands clutching my shoulders, her nails digging in, and I set a steady rhythm, each thrust deliberate, hitting that spot that made her moan. "so fuckin' good," I murmured, my lips against her neck, the blanket cocooning us, "Joel," she moaned, her legs tightening around me, pulling me deeper, her voice desperate.

"Don't stop," she gasped, her nails raking my back, her body trembling beneath me. "Please, Joel." She cried out, her body shaking as her second orgasm hit, her walls gripping me tight, pulling me deeper. "Oh my fucking god." she gasped, her voice breaking, and I groaned, thrusting through her release, the feel of her pushing me over the edge. "Fuck," I growled, my hips stuttering as I spilled inside her, my body trembling, my lips finding hers in a messy, desperate kiss.

We stayed like that, panting, my forehead pressed to hers, the blanket warm around us, our breaths mingling. I pulled back to look at her, my hand cupping her face, my thumb brushing her cheek. "You okay?" I asked, my voice low, checking in.

She nodded, her eyes soft, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Yeah," she whispered, her hand resting on my chest, her touch warm. "I believe you."

I kissed her again, slow and tender, and rolled us so she was on top, her body draped over mine, the blankets tangling around us. We lay there for a while, not talking, just taking in each other's breaths, the blanket still tangled over our bodies. Her head rested on my chest, her fingers tracing lazy circles over my skin. I held her close, my hand resting on her hip, feeling the steady rise and fall of her breathing. The faint vanilla scent of her room lingered, making the moment feel contrasting to the morning we had.

After a while, she shifted slightly, her fingers pausing their circles, her voice soft but laced with a nervous edge. "Joel... how are we gonna tell my dad?" she asked, her eyes flicking up to mine, a mix of worry and hope in them.

I let out a slow breath, my hand squeezing her hip gently. "We'll figure it out. Together." I brushed a strand of hair from her face, giving her a small, reassuring smile.

Today was our last day together. The thought hit me like a brick. I didn't know what to do with it, with the ache it brought. We hadn't talked about what this was, what it could be. Was it just a fling? A reckless escape from reality? I didn't even know if I wanted a relationship with him. Not because I didn't care, but because it felt too complicated. He was older, tied to responsibilities I couldn't fully understand, and I was... what? A college kid, figuring out my life, caught up in this man who made me feel things I'd never felt before. The confusion swirled in my head, muddled by the tenderness of his touch, and I felt stuck, unsure how to process it.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to push the thoughts away. I didn't want to ruin today with overthinking. I just wanted to enjoy him, to soak up every second of this before it was gone. Taking a deep breath, I focused on the warmth of his body, the steady rhythm of his breathing, and tried to fall back asleep. But my mind wouldn't settle, the ache in my chest keeping me awake, my thoughts too loud to ignore.

Carefully, I shifted, easing out from under Joel's arm. He stirred slightly, his grip tightening for a moment before relaxing, his face soft in sleep. "Gonna get some water." I whispered, more to myself than to him, my voice barely audible. I slipped out of bed, my legs shaky from last night, and grabbed the throw blanket that had fallen to the floor, wrapping it around my naked body. The soft fabric brushed my skin as I tiptoed out of the room, closing the door quietly behind me.

The house was cool and quiet as I padded down the stairs, the blanket trailing slightly behind me. In the kitchen, I grabbed a glass from the cabinet and filled it with water from the fridge, the cold liquid grounding me as I took slow sips. My head was still a little foggy, but the water helped. I leaned against the counter, staring out the window at the soft morning light, trying to steady my racing thoughts.

My eyes wandered to the counter, landing on the snacks we'd left out last night chips, a half-eaten bag of M&M's, and our cans. The memories of our incident last night coming back to me. I let out a breathy laugh, shaking my head. But then—

Click.

The front door rattled.

My heart dropped.

I froze, glass still in my hand, eyes locking on the knob as it turned slowly.

No. No, no—

The door opened.

"Dad?" a voice called, familiar and far too close.

Sarah.

My blood went cold and my heart beat radiated through me. I was standing in Joel's kitchen, naked except for a throw blanket, my things upstairs, and his daughter was here.

Fuck, this is so bad.

My eyes darted around, searching for somewhere, anywhere to hide. The pantry was too far, the living room too open. The only option was the narrow space between the fridge and the counter, a cramped corner partially hidden by the kitchen island.

I scrambled over, clutching the blanket tighter, and squeezed into the gap. My back pressed against the cool metal of the fridge. The glass of water was still in my hand, and I set it down carefully on the floor, praying it wouldn't tip. My heart was pounding so loud I was sure Sarah would hear it. I held my breath, trying to stay as still as possible. The blanket slipped slightly, and I tugged it up, my hands shaking as I listened to her footsteps moving closer.

"Dad? You awake?" Sarah called again, her voice louder now, coming from the living room. I heard the rustle of a bag, the soft thud of her dropping something on the couch.

My mind raced. Joel was still upstairs, probably racing around to hide things too, and I had no idea if he'd come in time to cover for me. What if she came into the kitchen? What if she saw my shoes at the door? My stomach twisted, the weight of our secret crashing down on me.

I pressed myself deeper into the corner, the cold floor biting into my bare feet, and prayed he'd get her out of the house soon. The confusion from earlier, the sadness about our last day, was still there, but now it was drowned out by the immediate need to not get caught.

Then Joel's voice broke through, rough with sleep but steady, calling from upstairs. "I'll be right down, baby!" he shouted, and I exhaled shakily, a sliver of relief cutting through the panic. He was awake. He'd handle this. He had to. The creak of the stairs followed, quick and uneven, like he was taking them two at a time, and I pictured him throwing on clothes in a rush, trying to erase any trace of me.

I stayed frozen, my back pressed against the fridge, the blanket slipping slightly as I adjusted my grip. The glass of water sat on the floor beside me, untouched, a small anchor in the chaos. I listened as Joel's footsteps hit the living room, his voice warm and a little breathless as he spoke. "Hey kiddo," he said, followed by the soft sound of him pulling her into a hug. "God, it's good to see you."

I could hear the smile in Sarah's voice as she hugged him back. "Hey, Dad. Didn't mean to scare you." Her tone was teasing, but there was a warmth to it, the kind that made it clear how much she loved him. It made my chest ache, a reminder of the life Joel had outside of me.

"What're you doin' home?" Joel asked, his voice steady but laced with curiosity. I imagined him looking around, his eyes scanning the room for anything out of place, just like I was doing in my head.

Sarah laughed softly, her sneakers squeaking as she shifted. "I came to surprise you yesterday afternoon to stay for break, but you weren't here. Figured you were stuck at work or something, so I stayed over at Jess's place with some friends."

Joel chuckled, and I could hear the effort to keep it natural, to keep her from suspecting anything. "Shoulda called, kid. I was out late with some of the guys from the site. Didn't know you were plannin' a visit." His voice was warm, convincing, but I knew he was on high alert, probably clocking the same things I was.

"Yeah, well, surprises are more fun," Sarah said, and I heard her moving, her voice getting closer to the kitchen. My heart leapt into my throat, and I pressed myself deeper into the corner, the blanket slipping again. "Whoa, Dad, what's all this?" she said, her tone shifting to confusion laced with amusement. "Uh, a Smirnoff? Since when do you drink those?"

My stomach plummeted, a cold wave of dread washing over me. Of course she'd notice my drink. I bit my lip, waiting for Joel's response, hoping he could talk his way out of this.

Joel didn't hesitate, his voice smooth and casual, like it was no big deal. "Yeah, had some of the crew over last night. One of 'em brought that. Think it was Tommy's buddy, Mike. Guy's got a weird taste." He let out a low laugh, the kind that sounded so effortless I almost bought it, and I marveled at how quick he was.

Sarah snorted, and I could hear the grin in her voice. "Mike? Seriously? That's amazing. " She paused, and I heard the crinkle of a bag. "But candy? You're going soft, Dad."

I stayed still, my legs starting to cramp, the cold floor biting into my feet. My heart was still racing, but Joel's quick cover had bought us some time. I wasn't out of danger yet. If Sarah came into the kitchen, if she saw my shoes by the door or noticed anything else.

I listened as Sarah rummaged through the living room, her voice muffled as she talked about her friends, her classes, her plans for the break. Joel kept her engaged, his responses calm and easy, and I could tell he was trying to keep her distracted, to give me a chance to stay hidden. Today was our last day, and I'd wanted to savor it, but now I was hiding in his kitchen, naked.

The confusion from waking up, the sadness about leaving, it all swirled together with the fear of getting caught. I felt overwhelmed, unsure how to process any of it. I just wanted Sarah to leave, to give me a chance to slip back upstairs, to figure out how to face Joel and this day without everything falling apart.

Joel's voice floated back into the kitchen like a lifeline. "Hey, what d'you say we go grab some breakfast?" he said, easy and warm, but I could hear the underlying urgency. He was trying to get her out.

"Yeah, I'm starving," Sarah replied, cheerful and unsuspecting.

Joel's voice followed her. "Wait in the car for me, alright? I'll change real quick and be right out."

"Uh huh," Sarah said, teasing. "Don't take forever." Joel chuckled, the sound hollow underneath. "Yeah, yeah."

Footsteps thudded across the floor, lighter this time. Sarah heading for the door. The door opened. Slammed shut.

Silence.

"Olivia?" Joel's voice, quieter now, just above a whisper.

I exhaled, slow and shaky, then stepped out from my hiding place. My knees buckled a little as I straightened, the blanket clinging to my body, barely hanging on. Joel stood in the doorway to the kitchen, wearing the same sweatpants from last night, his hair tousled, his face drawn and tense.

He looked at me, eyes scanning quickly, like he needed to see me to believe I was okay. "You alright?" he asked. "Did she see anything?"

I shook my head. "No," I whispered, my voice tight. "I don't think so."

His shoulders dropped a fraction, a brief flicker of relief passing over his face. I bent down to pick up the glass I'd left on the floor and held it to my chest like it might shield me from the weight in the room.

"I'm sorry," I said quickly, before I could stop myself. "I shouldn't have come down. I—I didn't think—"

"Don't," he cut in gently, his voice low. He took a few steps toward me, stopping just short of touching. "You didn't do anything wrong. You couldn't've known."

I nodded, but it didn't help. I still felt awful and humiliated. There was something about being caught like that, or nearly caught.

Joel sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. "Look... it's probably best if you head out when we do," he said, voice careful. "Sarah's home now."

My heart clenched. I knew he was right, but it still hurt.

"Yeah," I said softly, looking down at the floor. "I figured."

We stood there in silence, the space between us suddenly full of everything we weren't saying. I wanted to ask him what this meant, what happened now, if he regretted it. I wanted to tell him I didn't know how to feel or what to do. But the words stayed locked in my throat, stuck behind the knot forming there.

Joel broke the silence first, "I'll be quick. You can take your time. Get your stuff ready and head home."

"Okay," I whispered.

Joel glanced toward the window that faced the front yard and motioned for me to stay close behind him. We moved quickly, careful not to be seen. We crept up together.

At the top of the stairs, he gave me a tight nod and turned toward his bedroom. I watched him disappear into the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind him. I turned to gather my things, trying to be quick but not too rushed, as if hurrying would somehow make this feel worse. I pulled my shirt over my head and stepped into my jeans, heart still thudding in my chest.

I glanced around the room; his flannel shirt still draped over the chair, our clothes laid out together on the floor, the bed still messy from where we'd slept. I didn't want to leave it like this. Honestly, I didn't wanna leave at all.

Joel reemerged a few minutes later, fully dressed now in jeans and a worn T-shirt that clung to his chest. He looked like himself again. Joel, the contractor, the dad, the man who wasn't supposed to be tangled up with me. He moved with purpose now, pulling on his boots by the edge of the bed.

"I'll text you when it's clear," he said, not quite meeting my eyes.

I nodded. "Okay."

He didn't say anything else. No kiss goodbye. No soft touch or lingering glance. Just grabbed his keys and wallet and walked out of the room like he'd already separated himself from it, from me. A part of me waited for him to stop in the doorway, to come back, say anything but he didn't.

I heard his footsteps move down the hall, then the creak of the stairs. A pause. The front door opened. Then closed.

Gone.

I sat on the edge of the bed, my fingers gripping the blanket we'd shared. The silence settled around me like dust, heavy and suffocating. I laid back, pulling the sheets up over my chest, burying my face into his pillow and breathing him in. It smelled like him. Like comfort. I'd let myself believe it might've meant more than it did.

I felt stupid. For thinking this could've gone somewhere. For letting myself want more than just a weekend. For falling so fast and so hard for someone who couldn't hold space for me once his real life came back through the door. But the weight in my chest told me that something had shifted. Joel hadn't kissed me goodbye. And it felt like a sign.

And now I had to go to work with him tomorrow. Pretend nothing happened. Pretend I didn't already miss him.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand.

I sat up too fast, heart leaping in my chest. I scrambled for it, a breath caught in my throat as I unlocked the screen. One new message.

Joel: It's clear. You can leave now.

That was it. No sorry, no I'll call you later, no thank you for staying, or even I wish things were different. Just a sentence, flat and distant. Like I was someone he barely knew. Like I hadn't just spent the night wrapped up in him.

I stared at the message until the screen dimmed. Then I opened the Uber app, blinking back the sting behind my eyes as I booked a ride. Four minutes away.

I pressed the phone to my chest and took a slow breath, but it didn't help. I moved around the room quietly, grabbing my bags. I paused by the bed, my hand brushing over the place where he'd slept.

Downstairs, the house was still. The blanket from last night was crumpled on the couch. The bag of M&M's lay open, half-eaten, the cans from our drinks scattered carelessly on the coffee table. Our laughter still seemed to echo faintly in the space, like it hadn't fully caught up to the fact that the mood had changed.

I walked to the door, slipping on my boots. Dust from the trail gravel still on them. As I turned the knob, I took a deep breath. The morning light was bright, like a flash waking me up from a dream. I closed the door behind me and the Uber was already waiting at the curb.