Page 58 of The Boss

I should’ve known better. We had a plane to catch in only a matter of hours, and then we’d be back home. This moment was a fantasy, a dream too perfect to last.

And yet, for now, it was mine. Ours. Reality could wait.

26. Zac

Chris’s head rested against my shoulder, his breath slow and even, his body warm beside mine as we cruised through the darkened sky. The cabin lights were dimmed, casting everything in a soft, muted glow. Outside the window, the vast expanse of night stretched endlessly, the occasional shimmer of city lights far below reminding me that reality still existed beyond this fleeting moment.

I stared at the seat in front of me, not moving, scarcely breathing. Something had shifted. I could feel it in the weight of Chris’s body against mine, in the way my chest clenched—not with lust, not with momentary satisfaction, but with something deeper, heavier. My hand twitched against the armrest, an instinctual urge to reach for him, to tangle my fingers in his. I didn’t.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Chris sighed in his sleep, nuzzling unconsciously closer, his warmth seeping into my skin, his trust in me absolute. And it hit me with brutal, suffocating clarity—this wasn’t just about sex anymore. We’d crossed a line. And fuck, I needed to get back on the other side.

I turned my head slightly, looking down at him, at the way his lashes fanned against his cheek, at the barely-there curve of his lips, so content, so unaware of the war waging inside me. I should have felt in control. I should have been able to remind myself that this was temporary, that it was just physical, just release. But instead, all I could think about was how easy it felt. How right. How much I wanted to stay in this suspended moment, where no one was watching, where there were no expectations, no looming obligations.

Panic curled low in my stomach, tightening its grip with every breath. I felt lost. I didn’t know what to do.

* * *

The plane landed in Providence just before midnight, the wheels jolting against the tarmac. Chris stirred beside me, letting out a soft, sleepy sound as he blinked blearily up at me. Then he stretched, long and slow, like a cat shaking off the last traces of slumber.

“We’re home?” he murmured, his voice thick.

Something bitter twisted in my chest at the word.Home.I forced a nod, grabbed my bag, and led the way off the plane.

Outside, winter slapped the warmth of Florida off my skin. The Rhode Island cold seeped into my bones, creeping under my collar, and into my lungs. The scent of jet fuel and de-icer filled the air, a sharp contrast to the salt and sunscreen I could still taste on my lips. Down there it was easy to forget it was December; here, we didn’t have that luxury.

We slid into the backseat of a taxi, the heat blasting too strong, making the air feel stale. The cab smelled faintly of pine, but it was artificial and cloying, doing nothing to mask the underlying scent of worn leather and exhaust. Chris let out a quiet yawn beside me, rubbing at his face, still lost in the hazy afterglow of our time in Miami. Just a few hours ago, we’d been naked on the beach, tangled together as the sun melted into the horizon. Now the city around us rose in sharp lines and frosted panes, unyielding and distant, just like the life I was about to step back into.

I sat rigid, my hands clenching and unclenching against my thighs. My pulse thudded too hard, something restless clawing at the inside of my ribs. I felt caged, like I was already losing something I hadn’t even let myself have.

Chris shifted slightly beside me. “You okay?” His voice was low, still soft with sleep.

A sharp breath left my lips. “I’m fine.”

He paused. Then, “You sure? You seem—”

“I said I’m fine, Chris.” It came out sharper than I intended, the words cracking through the stale air.

He flinched—just a flicker of movement, but I caught it. His lips parted like he might push back, but he hesitated. Instead, his leg brushed against mine, light and fleeting, like he wanted to ground me. I barely had time to register the warmth before he pulled away.

Guilt festered instantly, rotting beneath my skin. I almost said something, my hand landing on his knee as if it had a will of its own. But I kept quiet, and the rest of the ride passed in thick, heavy silence.

When the cab finally rolled to a stop in front of his building, Chris reached for the door handle, but I was already moving. I stepped out first, grabbing his suitcase from the trunk before he could protest.

“Zac, you don’t have to—”

“Just come on,” I muttered, dragging the luggage toward his building.

“Look, I’m a grown-ass man and I’m perfectly capable—”

“I’m not leaving you here alone.”

Chris sighed but didn’t argue, walking beside me, then passing me to lead the way up the steps. The lobby was quiet at this hour, the overhead lights buzzing faintly as I followed him up the stairs. We climbed in silence, my grip tightening on the handle of his suitcase.

At his door, he fumbled with his keys, then unlocked it. “You wanna come in?” he asked, voice quieter now.

“Not tonight.”

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