Climbing back onto the bed, I gingerly balance my weight so as not to shift the mattress. I shimmy over to the farthest edge, putting the absolute maximum space between us, bringing the covers up to my chin and watching him sleep like the total fucking creeper I am. This might be the last time I see his face at peace. Surely once he opens his eyes and sees us in the same bed, said beautiful face will be overcome with horror.

While Jack enjoys his peaceful slumber, I mentally start making a checklist of all the things I’ll need to do when he asks me to move out. Find a place to live, obviously, and it’ll have to be cheap. Ask the bar about taking on some extra shifts since I’ll never again in my life have the good fortune to pay so little in rent. Possibly see about renting a studio space as well since any apartment I can afford on my bartender salary is going to be tiny and definitely won’t have room for things like floral coolers.

I’m so lost in thought, I don’t even notice Jack’s eyes flutter open.

“Why are you so far away?” His voice is groggy with sleep, all low and rumbly and sexy as fuck.

Which is just rude, since I know he’s about to tell me to leave his perfect house and never come back.

“Sadie?” He flips over onto his back and holds out his arm. “What are you doing over there?”

“Giving you space.” I curl myself up into a little ball, wanting to be as small as possible.

“I don’t want space. Get your sexy ass over here.” He grins, but it fades quickly. “Shit. Unless you don’t want that. I can go.” He tosses the covers off, revealing his still-very-much-bare chest.

“Jack, it’s your house. I can go.” I unfurl my limbs and slip out from under the covers. “I can stay with Harley and Gem until I find a new place. Or maybe Harley will just move in with Nick and I can take her room. That’d actually be best-case scenario, even though I don’t want to push them into something they’re not ready for, obviously. But I’m that desperate for a place to live, so knowing me, I’ll push away.”

Jack stands at the foot of the bed as I start riffling through the drawers of my dresser, not even sure what I’m looking for.

“You want to move out?”

I stop riffling, but I don’t turn to look at him. “Of course I don’t want to move out. But I also don’t want you to have to feel like you have to let me stay here.”

“Why would I feel like that?”