Page 73 of Where the Blacktop Ends

“Just back from the city?” James asks, always calm and polite, not noticing the clear tension that’s crackling between both of us.

Troy nods. “Yeah. Had some business to take care of.”

Cryptic, of course.

I feel that familiar sting of being left out. Out of his plans, out of his world. I’m just the nanny still, after all. He’s never alluded to making me anything more despite our hooking up and his promises. But maybe that’s all they’ve been.

Words, with no action.

“Alright then, I’ll leave you two to it,” Troy says, his voice cool and measured. But I don’t miss the flicker in his eyes. Something darker.

Disappointment?

Anger?

Or worse—indifference.

He turns without another glance, heading up the stairs, his footsteps echoing loudly. The air feels heavier when he’s gone, pressing down on my chest.

“Okay… that was weird,” James mumbles beside me, hitting play on the remote, but I barely register it. Because all I can feel is the ache in my chest. A hollow space where Troy’s warmth used to be.

Troy might be weird at times, but he’s starting to feel likemyweird guy.

The rest of our night together is marred by my lingering thoughts on where Troy was and whether I was doing the right thing by inviting James over for a pizza and movie night after our steamy hook-up in the bathroom.

Sometime after midnight, I drift off, curled up under a warm, fuzzy blanket. But then Ifeelit. A shift. Strong arms slide under me, lifting me effortlessly, and the scent of woodsy cologne wraps around me like a familiar ache.Him.Even without opening my eyes, Iknowit’s Troy.

My body reacts instinctively, my fingers curling into his shirt, pulling myself closer, seeking the comfort of his warmth.Maybe this is a dream.But if it is, I don’t want to wake up. Because even if he keeps disappearing…He always comes back.

And that’s enough for now.

Chapter 28 – Troy

My hand tightens around the doorframe as I listen for the sound of James’s footsteps fading away. When I finally hear the front door close behind him, it feels like I can breathe again.

Finally.

At least he had the decency to make sure Georgia was comfortable—tucked under a blanket, her body curled up like she belonged there—before heading out. He didn’t overstay his welcome or crash here for the night, which Iappreciate, but he still stayed too damn long for my comfort.

Too close.

Too familiar.

And the way they sat huddled together?

My hands fist at my side in frustration. Yeah. That didn’t look likejust friends.

I try to tell myself I’m overreacting, that I’m just projecting my own shit onto them. Maybe I’m reading into things. But it doesn’t matter how much I try to talk myself out of it—there’sthis gnawing thing in my gut. And the longer I stand here, the harder it is to push back the jealousy that’s clawing at me.

Because the truth is?

I hate that anyone else gets to be this close to her.

I drag a hand through my hair, exhaling slowly, trying to shake it off, but it doesn’t work. Not when she’s right there—soft and warm and feeling a lot like mine. Slipping my hands beneath her, I lift her easily, her body melts into me like she belongs in my arms. And God, she does. Her scent hits me—wildflowers and red wine—soft, sweet, and completely intoxicating. It wraps around me, seeping into my skin, making it impossible to think straight.

Her strawberry-blonde hair is a mess, curls sticking to her neck and face from deep sleep, but even like this—disheveled and completely unaware—she’sbreathtaking. Too damn beautiful for her own good.

My thumb grazes her cheek, brushing a stray curl away as I hold her close. Her breath is warm against my neck, her body pliant and trusting, and for a moment, I let myselffeelit. The weight of her. The way she fits so perfectly against me. Like she’s always meant to be here. But the ache that settles in my chest is a reminder—thisisn’t forever unless I can convince her to be mine.

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