BooksBarbecue
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Chapters (48)
  1. Foreword
  2. Preface
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. 40
  43. 41
  44. About the Author
  45. About the Author
  46. Also by S.L Gray
  47. Off the Record
  48. Book 2 in Co-op Corrupted Duet

Carter doesn’t say anything else, he doesn’t need to. His arms just tighten around me, pulling me closer, holding me like he’s afraid to let go, like if he does, I might slip through his fingers, might change my mind, might leave before either of us is ready for it. But I can’t change my mind. Not about him, not about Tate and not about any of this.

I let my body sink into his, let the warmth of him press into every aching muscle, every sore spot, every bruised and wrecked part of me, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt this kind of exhaustion before. Not just the kind that settles into my limbs, but the kind that makes my mind slow down, that makes my thoughts finally quiet, that makes it impossible to focus on anything but him.

In the morning, I have to leave. I have to go back to my world, back to my apartment, my routines, my carefully constructed independence. Back to pretending this thing between us is just a moment, not something that’s been burrowing under my skin since the first time Carter messaged me. Back to acting like the weight of his eyes on me doesn’t make me feel seen in a way that terrifies me.

Carter buries his face against my hair, his lips brushing over my temple, his voice low and wrecked as he whispers, “Sleep, Haven,” I know that, at least for tonight I don’t have to think about anything else. So I let my eyes close, let my body melt into his, let myself stop fighting against whatever this thing is between us.

38

Carter

The morning light filters in through the blinds, casting long streaks of gold and pale blue across my room, soft and quiet, the kind of light that makes everything feel suspended in time, like the world hasn’t quite woken up yet.

But I have, and so has the weight of everything Haven said last night. I glance down at her, still tangled up in my sheets, my shirt swallowing her frame, her hair a dark mess against my pillow, her breathing slow and steady, completely fucking exhausted from everything that’s happened over the last few days.

She’s leaving today. The realization almost burying an ache in me.

All I know in this moment is that I can’t let her go without talking to Tate first. I carefully ease myself out of bed, making sure not to jostle her, my muscles aching as I push myself to my feet, still feeling the lingering soreness.

I move quietly through the hall, avoiding the creaky floorboard near the end, feet cold against the hardwood as I pause outside Tate’s door.