“Stop coming here, Zane,” I say, standing in the doorway with my arms crossed. “I meant what I said. That night was it. One night. That’s all you get.”
It’s been three days since I let him in. Three days since he stood in my kitchen with bandaged hands and made me breakfast like it meant something. Three days of trying to forget how his eyes softened when he said he wanted to take care of me.
And now here he is again, standing on my porch like he has every right to be here, holding a toolbox like he belongs.
“Your gutters are clogged,” he says, pointing up. “I saw it the other day. With all this rain, you might get water damage.”
I sigh hard. “I can hire someone.”
That’s a lie. I tried to fix them myself yesterday. Almost fell off the damn ladder. Ever since I bought this place, it’s
