Page 224 of Kentrell

Eyes still closed, body still warm and lazy from sleep, my hand stretched across the bed like it had muscle memory of where he should be. But all I found was cool, empty sheets.

My brows pulled together as I cracked my eyes open, the soft morning light bleeding through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The drapes had been pulled back just enough for sunlight to spill across the floors, making everything glow in shades of gold and cream.

Caldwell Manor was beautiful like that. Effortlessly.

Every room had its own mood. Its own weight. Like the house carried its own heartbeat.

I turned onto my back, letting my gaze drift along the tray ceiling, the crown molding, the dark wood beams that stretched across like art. Everything was curated without feeling cold. Warm but grand. Expensive but lived-in. The kind of place built by someone who wanted to protect what mattered to him.

Someone like Kentrell.

My chest squeezed tight at the thought of him.

He hadn’t just poured money into this house. He’d poured himself into it. I felt him in every detail. The way he left extra water bottles on my side of the bed. The plush throw he draped over me when I dozed off in the media room. The playlists that always matched my mood before I even knew I had one.

God.

I buried my face in the pillow and smiled before I could stop myself.

The man was attentive in ways I didn’t even have language for.

And me?

I was out here fighting a losing battle.

My stomach gave a sudden, sharp twist, flipping my whole body into high alert.

I bolted upright, dizzy, already scrambling for the bathroom like my life depended on it.

Feet barely touching the floor. Heart racing.

I made it just in time, dropping to my knees as everything I had left in me threatened to come up at once. The cool porcelain, the burn at the back of my throat, the tears pricking the corners of my eyes—none of it made sense.

What was this?

A stomach bug? Food poisoning? Stress?

When it was finally over, I stayed there for a minute, too drained to move, the heated bathroom tile warming my legs through the thin material of Kentrell’s T-shirt—the same one I’d slept in the night before.

I pulled my knees to my chest and rested my head against them, letting my breathing slow.

And just like that… there he was again.

In my mind. In my heart.

Him.

The way he looked at me like I mattered. Like I wasn’t something temporary or breakable.

I closed my eyes, picturing the way he traced lazy circles along my bare thigh when he thought I was asleep. The way he studied my face like every expression was worth memorizing. The way he listened—not just with his ears, but with his full attention—making space for every rambling story, every tired complaint, every little thing I said without realizing how much it mattered to me until I saw the way he tucked it away for later.

Kentrell had a way of giving without making it feel transactional. Like liking me was just…natural for him. Effortless.

And somewhere along the way, all my good sense, all my walls, all my carefully built distance…

It crumbled.

I was in love with him.

---