Page 13 of Misery In Me

I force myself to look away before she notices.

I don’t know why I’m still standing here.Why am I lingering?

It’s not like we’re a couple, and I’m going to kiss her goodbye.

Get it together, Donovan.

I take a breath and head for the door, trying to ignore the thought of her standing there with Zoe. Trying to ignore the way my chest feels tight whenever I think about her.

I’m halfwaythrough the company run when I start thinking about her again.

I know better than to get caught up in my thoughts, but it’s hard not to. She’s beautiful. She’s capable. And she’s here, living in my house, taking care of my daughter, my responsibility.

It’s the way she moves—effortless, calm. Like she was born for this. I’ve never seen a woman handle a baby the way she does.Granted, I don’t pay attention to women like that on the regular.There’s this level of care and patience I’ve never known, and it’s got me thinking—what does she see in me? What is she expecting from me?

She’s just doing her job.

Alejandra isn’t expecting anything beyond you paying her.

So how do I ignore the pull I’m feeling towards her?

She’s not like the women I’ve known. Hell, I don’t evenknowher, but every time I look at her, I can feel something stirring inside me. It’s stupid, I know that. If I let myself get close to her—if I let myself feel anything for her—it could jeopardize everything.

My career.

My daughter’s well-being.

The discipline I’ve spent my entire life building up.

This is a job.That’s it.And I can’t let anything distract me from that.

The run ends too soon and like I’m on autopilot, I’m back at the house, drenched in sweat, my muscles tight. I almost want to skip the shower so I can get out of the house as fast as possible. I don’t have time for anything other than getting back to the daily normal. There’s a whole new set of rules now—parenthood, responsibility. The stakes are higher than they’ve ever been, and I can’t afford to let anything mess that up.

I step inside, still fighting the internal tug-of-war. I can feel her presence before I even see her—the scent of her lingering in the air like a soft, unspoken promise. Begging me to explore it. I know I’ve smelled the floral scent somewhere before but I can’t place it. It’s not roses or jasmine; no, it’s something softer and so much more delicate. So light that it makes me want to lean into her neck to smell it on her skin.

Get it together, Gage. You’re just torturing yourself. Maybe you need to go out with the guys and get laid to get her out of your head.

I don’t want anyone else.

She’s standing in the kitchen, pouring formula into a glass bottle. Her hair’s still pulled back, and she’s wearing that same soft T-shirt from earlier, the one that hugs her in all the right places. Zoe isn’t in her arms, though.

Don’t engage, just head straight upstairs.

I’m rethinking that shower right about now as I try not to let the attraction get to me. I need the release. With an almost ten-month deployment plus four and a half weeks of being stateside behind me, I haven’t even touched, let alone looked at, a naked woman. My balls are screaming at me in protest and my cock is begging to find its home between the woman before me’s legs.

Fuck, I cannot get a hard-on right now.

Too late.

I could bend her over the counter or even the kitchen table and...

She catches my gaze just as I start to sprint toward the stairs, and for a second, everything inside me pauses. Her eyes are warm and knowing. And she’s not judging me for being the tired, worn-out guy standing in front of her. The guy that fucked up and had a kid with a random hookup.

She just looks... steady. Like she’s got it all figured out.

Maybe she does.

And here I am with a semi in the shortest fucking shorts a motherfucker could be wearing. Note to self: buy the longer shorts at the MCX.

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