Cole
I feel like I just had a personality transplant. I’m cheerful and happy. Optimistic about the possibilities the future might hold for once. We get up and I work on erasing the evidence of our presence in the cabin—changing the sheets on the bed, and throwing this set in the washing machine. I can come back and put them in the dryer later. Or stay. I guess Bailey can and should drive herself home. Alone.
I don’t want to be separated from her, though.
I walk her out to her car, my fingers laced loosely through hers. “I don’t want to let you go home. I want to tie you to that bed and keep you here forever.” Bailey’s gaze shines with wonder. I stroke the backs of my fingers across her cheek.
I want to give her something that means something to match what she just gave to me, but I hav
