Jacques’ POVSomething felt off. It wasn’t the café, or the breeze, or even Fab going on about that trash reality show she loved to hate. It was the quiet.Carmen quiet.Not just not talking quiet. Not in the area quiet.She’d said she’d be right back just popping into the boutique. That was… what, five minutes ago? Maybe seven. But now, the shop next door looked still. Too still.I glanced at the door. No movement.Just that soft, golden light glowing from inside.“I’ll check on her,” I said, already standing.Fab barely looked up from her phone. “Tell her to hurry. I have dinner plans with my third favorite cousin.”The bell over the boutique door jingled softly as I stepped in.Instantly lavender. Wood. Paper.But no Carmen.I scanned the room, expecting her near the shelves, maybe flipping through one of those overpriced notebooks she always swore she'd actually use this time.Nothing.My brows knit together.There was a girl behind the counter, earbuds in, zoned out scrolling lik
Carmen’s POVThe morning air felt… off. Not cold. Not warm. Just heavy like something was pressing down on my chest, refusing to let me breathe right. It wasn’t the weather.It was me.Every step I took felt like dragging weight through water. I told Blake I was heading to Fab’s, but that was a lie. I couldn’t sit across from anyone right now. Not until I’d patched myself up enough to fake being okay.I just needed space. A breath. A damn second. But apparently, the universe didn’t get the memo. Because as I rounded the corner to my street, distracted and numb, I almost walked right into someone.I jerked back.He froze.Jacques.Of course it was Jacques.My heart stuttered. Everything in me paused, suspended in the silence that suddenly stretched between us.He looked just as stunned as I felt maybe more. For days, he’d been distant. Ice-cold. Like I didn’t exist. And I’d stopped waiting for that to change.But here he was. Staring right at me.And worse… seeing me.The tiredness beh
Blake’s POVShe smiled.Not the real kind, not the one that reached her eyes and made the whole damn room tilt. This one was practiced. Polite. Like she was trying not to break something fragile between us.And maybe she was. I handed her the coffee, brushing her fingers with mine.“Come eat,” I said, pretending not to notice the tightness in her voice. “Waffles are getting cold.”She followed me back to the kitchen, silent except for the sound of her sipping coffee. I loaded her plate, added extra strawberries the way she liked, and waited for her to meet my eyes.She didn’t.“You sure everything’s okay?” I asked.She nodded. “Yeah. Just didn’t sleep great.”Lie.I knew her too well for that. The way her jaw tensed when she was overthinking. Something was wrong. Or someone.But I didn’t push. Not yet.Instead, I leaned back in my chair and watched her pick at her waffles.Carmen never picks at food.“I was thinking we could drive out to the cliffs later,” I offered. “Catch the sunset
Carmen’s POVWarmth.That was the first thing I felt before I even opened my eyes. A kind of stillness, wrapped in tangled sheets and sunlight sneaking through linen curtains.Then I felt him.Blake’s arm, heavy around my waist. His chest rising slowly against my back. His face tucked into the curve of my neck like he never wanted to let go.My heart fluttered, then stumbled.“Are you awake?” he murmured against my skin.Damn it. He always knew.“Unfortunately,” I whispered, my voice still thick with sleep.He shifted, his lips brushing my shoulder. “You good?”I finally turned to face him. His hair was messy, his eyes soft and too open. Vulnerable. Not Blake Lockwood the CEO. Just Blake. Mine.He kissed me slow and soft. None of last night’s fire. Just something real.Then I sat up, wrapping the sheet around me. “I need coffee.”He chuckled. “We’ve got espresso pods. And I’m told I make excellent waffles.”“Waffles might be a start,” I mumbled as I padded toward the kitchen.But the
His hands stayed on my waist, thumbs moving in slow, agonizing circles like he was trying to memorize the feel of me.“Carmen…” he murmured, like my name was some kind of fragile secret. His voice was hoarse. Barely there.I pressed my forehead to his and exhaled shakily. “Don’t say anything. Just… don’t.”Because if he spoke, if I let myself think too hard about this about us I might break.He didn’t argue. His lips found mine again, but this time the kiss was deeper. Not rushed. Not reckless. Just intense. His fingers slid up under my sweatshirt, slow and deliberate, skimming the bare skin of my back until I shivered. He waited for a beat like he was asking permission without words before tugging it over my head. I let him. The fabric hit the floor, forgotten.Then my hands were in his hair, pulling him closer as I straddled his lap. I could feel every rise of his chest against mine, every tremor in his breath.“I missed you,” he whispered into my neck. “Even when I didn’t deserve t
Blake picked me up just after sunset.His car was spotless, like always. The engine purred low, and the music playing was barely audible some moody instrumental thing that felt like it didn’t want to intrude. Or maybe he didn’t know if we were supposed to talk, or just pretend none of this was strange.We didn’t say much on the drive.I stared out the window, Caleb’s note folded in my jacket pocket like a second heartbeat. Each word still echoing. Start with the incident… don’t wait… don’t trust too easily.The sky outside turned that dusty, in between blue the kind that never makes up its mind if it’s still day or night.“You’ve never been to the beach house, right?” Blake’s voice broke the silence, low and cautious.I shook my head. “You never invited me.”He glanced sideways, jaw clenched like he’d been expecting that. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I didn’t think I deserved to.”That shut us up again.The silence stretched until the tires crunched over gravel. The salt-sweet breeze roll