Page 23 of Lost to the Woods

“Gosh! Have you seen my—”

Before she finished, I pointed toward the nightstand where her purse was.

She immediately went to fish out her phone. “It’s dead. Do you have a—”

I nodded toward the opposite side where my charger was.

“Thank you.” As she waited for her phone to charge, her eyes never left mine. Finally, she asked, her voice quiet, “So… why the mask? I mean, it must have been off when we made out.”

I stared at her for a second. “I don’t know…” I said, my tone deliberately light, almost lazy. “I wasn’t sure how you were gonna react. Figured you wouldn’t remember a thing anyway.”

“I wish I did,” she muttered, more to herself. “You’re not gonna let me see you?” Her eyes flicked up. Curious. Hopeful. Maybe even a little hurt.

Her phone rang before I could respond.

Fucking timing.

She jumped, startled, then glanced at the screen. “Sorry. It’s Kendra—I better take this.”

I just nodded, and she picked up. I could hear her best friend freaking out through the speaker after Nate’s panic blast. Bunny’s voice dropped lower as she mentioned my name, and I could hear even more squeals on the other end of the line, which made her blush in embarrassment.

I chuckled.

“Um, it’s getting late,” she said once she hung up. “I should go. I’ve got a plane to catch in a few hours.”

The thought of her leaving made something cold ripple through me. But I grabbed a pair of fresh boxer briefs and one of my softest black t-shirts—oversized, worn thin, something she’d drown in—and tossed them her way. “Put these on. I’ll get you an Uber. Where are you staying?”

She caught them with a sheepish smile. “Thanks…” Then she gave me her hotel address, and I ordered her a ride.

Once she was dressed, she lingered near the door, fingers fidgeting, shoulders hunched like she was waiting for a reason to stay. She glanced back at me, as though she was hoping I would stop her.

I stepped forward and pulled her into a hug—one hand on her lower back, the other cradling her nape.

Close. Tight. Intimate.

She melted into it, her forehead resting against my chest.

“You’re welcome to stay, you know,” I murmured against her hair. “We can make a day out of it. I’ll extend the room, and I’m sure we can switch your flight for tomorrow.”

I felt the hesitation in her body before I even saw it in her face. She didn’t want to leave.

But she would.

Because she wasn’t ready to admit it yet. Not to herself. Not to me.

“We’ll… stay in touch?” she asked, voice small but hopeful.

“We better.”

She smiled then. Bright and open and all mine.

Hook. Line. Sinker.

She didn’t know it yet, but she’d already sealed her fate.

And we did stay in touch—obviously. I wouldn’t let her slip away. It started with a ‘Did you make it home safe?’ and spiraled from there…

In the weeks that followed, we’d talked nonstop.

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