Nesta: It is way too early for you to be in crisis mode.
Me: You wouldn't be saying that if you would have stayed with me last night.
Nesta: OMG! What happened?
Me: HE happened… AGAIN!
Nesta: (eye roll emoji)
Me: Nesta, I’m serious. I am going down a dangerous road.
Nesta: Seems like a fun road to me. If he's anything like Noah, you had a fun ride.
Me: You are not helping.
Nesta: The difference between us is I can detach. You evidently can not.
Me: I can’t start catching feelings; that will just make things worse.
Nesta: Then you better just back away right now.
Me: (face-palm emoji)
I toss my phone onto the couch with a sigh, Nesta’s last message still lingering in my head.Then you better just back away right now.
Careful, right? That’s never been my strong suit with pilots, and that's why I put the boundaries in place with Ash. I'm not about to get my heart broken again.
Shaking off the weight of the conversation, I roll my shoulders back and refocus. Work. That’s what I need to be thinking about. Not Ash. When I think about last night, my pulse still stutters in a way that’s not normal. Not the dangerous feeling that’s been creeping in despite every damn wall I’ve tried to keep in place.
I take a deep breath, letting the cool air steady me. Then I grab my laptop, flip it open, and get to it.
Emails first. Then the report I’ve been putting off. Then, if I’m feeling ambitious, I’ll deal with the disaster that is my inbox. Anything to keep my mind busy. Anything to remind myself that I have other things—important things—to focus on.
My fingers fly over the keyboard, and for a while, it works. The numbers, the words, the structure of it all—it’s safe. It makes sense. It’s not complicated.
Unlike everything else.
Unlike him.
The weekend seems to drag on. Maybe if Friday night’s events weren’t playing over in my head on a loop, it would have gone faster. But damn, if being with Amelia wasn't the hottest thing I have experienced. The woman knows just what she wants and takes it, but in the same breath, she can also be submissive.
Why did she have to put rules in place? We could be great, but she keeps shutting me out.
I rake a hand through my hair and drop onto the couch, staring blankly at the TV that I never actually turned on. The apartment is quiet—too damn quiet—but I don’t bother fixing that either.
I should do something. Hit the gym, meet up with the guys, anything other than sitting here thinking about her. But no matter what I do, Amelia’s still in my head.
I knew what I was walking into with her. She made it clear from the start—rules, boundaries, no strings. And I agreed because that’s what I do. I don’t get attached. I don’t do relationships. And yet, here I am, breaking my damn rules just by thinking about her this much.
She’s not built for something casual, not really. She acts like she is—like she can keep her heart locked up tight behind all those lines she’s drawn between us. But I see the cracks. I see the way she hesitates, the way she pulls back just a little too late, already deeper than she means to be.
And maybe that should make me back off. Maybe that should be my cue to walk away before this turns into something neither of us is ready for.
But here’s the problem—I don’t want to.
And that? That’s exactly why this can’t happen.
A few hours later, I’m just scrolling through the channels, trying to find something to watch, when a loud bang comes from my front door, and I know just who it probably is.
