Page 152 of Triple Play
And there she is.
Elise stands on our front step in jeans and a Crestmont sweatshirt—Wyatt’s, I’d recognize it anywhere—her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, no makeup, looking confused and beautiful, and so damn perfect that my chest actually hurts.
It’s been two weeks since I last saw her in person. Fourteen days. And I forgot—I always forget between visits—how the sight of her just hits differently. It’s like my lungs remember how to work properly.
“Hi.”
“Hi.” Her eyes are already moving past me, trying to figure out what’s happening. “What—”
I don’t let her finish. I reach for her, pull her into me, and bury my face in her neck.
She smells like her coconut shampoo and coffee and something that’s just her, and I’m breathing it in like I’ve been underwater for two weeks and she’s the air I need.
“Grant.” Her arms come around me automatically. “You’re being weird.”
“Missed you.”
“It’s been two weeks.”
“I know.” I pull back just enough to look at her and cup her face. “Still missed you.”
Before she can respond, Jordie’s there, literally pulling her out of my arms and spinning her.
“Jordie—” She’s laughing. “Put me down.”
“Nope. My turn.” He sets her down but doesn’t let go; he just holds her face and kisses her forehead, her nose, and her cheeks. “Hi.”
“Hi yourself.” She’s grinning now. “You saw me two days ago.”
“Your point?”
Wyatt’s more controlled. He waits his turn. But when Jordie finally releases her, he steps in and just holds her. One hand in her hair, the other around her waist, and she melts into him the way she always does.
“Hey,” he says quietly.
“Hey.”
They stay like that for a few seconds—long enough that Jordie stage-whispers, “Should we leave them alone or—”
Elise pulls back, swatting at him. Then her eyes finally take in the space around us: the empty living room, the hardwood floors, and the kitchen visible through the doorway.
Her expression shifts from confusion to something else—something that makes my heart rate quicken.
“What’s going on?”
“Come in,” I say. “Please.”
“Grant—”
“Just—come all the way in. Please.”
She does. She steps inside and looks around, turning slowly as if trying to piece together a puzzle.
“Is this—did you guys rent a house?”
“Not exactly,” Jordie says.
“Then what—” She stops, her eyes going wide. “Oh my God. You didn’t.”
