Page 113 of The Girlfriend Zone

HOMECOMING

Miles

My muscles ache. My bones are tired. This is how I usually feel after a long road trip that starts in Montreal and ends in Denver in the afternoon.

The difference this time? My mind won’t settle. Normally, when I come home, my thoughts calm, ready to crash right along with my body. But tonight, when I punch in the code and hear the soft click of the lock, something inside me both settles and speeds up.

It’s a surprising feeling—contentment and excitement mixed into one intoxicating cocktail.

And anticipation. Will she be here? Did she leave already, like we’d planned? Even if she did, I know where I’d be. I’d get in my car and find her. I’d bang on her door until she let me up, curl up beside her, and beg her to tell me about the last several days.

That certainty powers me forward as I slowly, quietly push open the door to my house.

The room is cloaked in that in-between glow of twilight, where the edges of objects blur into the quiet. Only a few lights are on, their dim glow casting soft, golden pools onto the hardwood. Shadows stretch lazily across the walls, unthreatening, folding the room in calm.

I step inside, careful not to break the spell of the stillness or disturb whatever traces of her linger. The scent of vanilla and brown sugar is a warm, sweet tether to her. Her things are here: a couple of books on the table, her phone too, but also her duffel bag—and that feels all wrong.

I tense at the sight of it, but it also awakens something in me. Something urgent.

I toe off my shoes. Cindy’s the first to notice me. She pops her head out from under a soft, gray fleece on the couch and bounds toward me, her tiny body wiggling with joy. I scoop her up, nuzzling her warm little face, but when I glance back at the couch, I see why the others haven’t followed.

Leighton is there.

She’s asleep, curled up in the corner of the couch, her face serene in the dim light. A blanket tangles around her legs, and a photography book rests on her chest, her fingers still loosely curled around it. Bippity meets my gaze but lies pressed against her side, tail thumping lazily as she refuses to budge.

I know the feeling, girl.

For a moment, I just stand there, utterly charmed by how seamlessly Leighton fits into my life. She looks like she’s been a part of this house—of my life—for years.

My steps are quiet but my heart thunders as I close the distance. I kneel, brushing a stray hair from her cheek, and Bippity’s tail picks up its tempo. Still, Leighton doesn’tstir. Her steady breaths fill the room, a soft cadence against the hush of the home.

I start to step back, not wanting to wake her, but her eyes flutter open. They’re unfocused at first, heavy with sleep, but then they meet mine.

“Hey,” I say, my chest squeezing.

She sighs softly, her lips curling into a faint, dreamy smile. “Hi,” she whispers, her voice rough and warm with sleep.

My chest tightens. It’s the most perfect moment I’ve experienced in ages—more perfect than a goal, more than a hat trick—and I don’t want it to end.

“Don’t go,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

Her smile deepens, and she nestles back into the blanket. “I won’t,” she murmurs, her words wrapping around me like the night itself.

And just like that, everything feels right.

Yes, there are reasons to hold back, beyond the obvious. She could leave me, like Joanne did. She could decide she’d rather not cause any complications with her father. She could also figure she’d rather not try something brand new with a hockey player whose body has already been broken—someone who’s been injured and could be again. Someone who, by his own admission, was deeply unhappy when he wasn’t playing.

She could choose all that and not choose me.

But none of that stops me from wanting her. From wanting to open up to her. From wanting to know her more, better, again and again.

“How did it go?” I ask softly, tipping my chin toward the pack.

She yawns, stretching lazily, and murmurs, “They’re kind of into me.”

Her gaze drops to the dogs snuggled against her, Bippity tucked into her side and Cindy now curled at her feet.

“I get it,” I say, meeting her eyes so she knows just how much I mean it.

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