Page 83 of Mile High Daddy

But I am.

His place is simple but lived-in—a deep brown couch, a shelf lined with books, a punching bag in the corner. No family photos. Nothing overly personal.

A space that exists, but doesn’t invite.

Like him.

“You just gonna stand there?”

His voice pulls me from my thoughts.

I blink, realizing I’ve been caught. “I, uh…” I clear my throat. “Didn’t mean to sleep that long.”

Alex glances over his shoulder. “You needed it.”

I cross my arms. “I don’t usually sleep that much.”

He turns, leaning back against the counter, his eyes scanning me. “You don’t usually let yourself.”

I swallow. He’s too perceptive.

His gaze flickers toward the coffee machine. “There’s fresh coffee. You want some?”

I hesitate for a second before nodding. “Yeah.”

He gestures to the clean mug on the counter. “Help yourself.”

I walk over, pouring myself a cup, acutely aware of his eyes on me.

Finally, Alex exhales and pushes a plate toward me. Toast. Scrambled eggs. Bacon.

I stare at it.

“What, you don’t eat?” he asks, raising a brow.

I glance at him before picking up a fork. “I just didn’t expect…” I trail off, unsure how to explain that I haven’t had a real meal cooked for me in what feels like forever.

He studies me. “It’s just food, Leah.”

But it’s not just food.

It’s the fact that he even thought to make it. That he’s paying attention.

I take a bite, and for the first time in months, I feel warmth spread through me that has nothing to do with survival.

Alex watches me for a beat before he picks up his own coffee and takes a sip.

Then—

“You wanna tell me the truth now?”

I stop mid-bite.

My stomach tightens.

He doesn’t look away. Doesn’t soften his tone. He just waits, dark eyes steady on mine.

I swallow hard. “I told you already.”

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