Page 79 of Harbor (The Wanderers 3)

Chapter 29

Voices penetrated Maya’s mind as she slowly regained consciousness. She groaned as she rolled onto her back, aware she was alone in the bed. She was sore in all the right places, the ache in her muscles welcome and delicious, reminding her of the night of amazing sex.

The door to the room was slightly ajar, and she frowned when she realized there was an extra voice in the living room.

Stuart?

She sat up fast, too fast. She felt slightly dizzy from the rushed movement. But what was Stuart doing back? She hadn’t expected him.

As soon as she found her wits, she eased to the edge of the bed, slid to her feet, and glanced around. Luckily, she found some of her own clothes. She didn’t much care if Stuart knew she’d been fucked ten ways to Sunday, but she didn’t want to walk out into the living room wearing nothing but one of the men’s shirts.

Finally decent, she eased the door open and stepped into the main room.

Everyone turned to face her.

Dario reached out a hand toward her. “We tried not to wake you.”

“You didn’t.” She felt awkward as she stepped closer on bare feet. “Stuart? What are you doing here?”

Stuart’s eyes widened as his gaze roamed up and down her frame, and then he winced. “I came back with the van so you could return to the compound, but…” He looked chagrined. “I may have overstepped.”

She shook her head as she lifted her hand to run her fingers through her hair. Why hadn’t she thought about her hair until now? Jesus. It must be completely tussled, and her cheeks were hot. She had to look well-fucked.

It shouldn’t have embarrassed her, but it did. This was Stuart. The man who knew better than anyone that Maya wasn’t the sort to let men get close to her. She certainly didn’t sleep with anyone. Let alone three.

Even though he’d encouraged her to follow her heart when he’d left here, he couldn’t have expected her to take that advice to heart. It wasn’t like her at all.

Maya swallowed as she glanced around, spotted a hair tie, and snagged it off the dining room table. “You’re right. It was thoughtful of you to bring the van. How soon can we leave?” She jerked her gaze to her pack still near the exit. “I can be ready any time.”

She didn’t look at any of the other men. Her heart was racing. The walls were closing in on her. Stuart was here offering her exactly what she’d wanted. The timing couldn’t be more perfect. She’d had the night of her life, and now instead of tiptoeing awkwardly around these three men for days on end, she had a way out.

“We don’t have to leave immediately,” Stuart offered. “Not even today if you aren’t ready. Or I could come back…”

She shook her head as she braided her hair. “Nope. We should go. Ariel will be worried if you stay too long. And I need to touch base with the council. I haven’t checked in with them in a long time.”

“They understand, Maya,” Stuart pointed out. “I told them what happened.”

She shrugged. “Good. Thanks. But I need to get out of here anyway. You know how much I hate closed spaces.” She chuckled awkwardly.

The tension in the air was so thick it was hard to breathe. She had no idea why she was acting so absurdly. The words kept tumbling out. It felt like fate had stepped in, bringing Stuart here this morning. The timing was perfect.

She’d made it perfectly clear she would be leaving the moment an opportunity presented itself. That had always been the plan. She’d never once alluded otherwise. She’d even reinforced the point before inviting these men into her body.

“Let me grab a shower.” Maya rushed across the room and into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her and then leaning against it.

She was breathing heavily and tears threatened to fall down her cheeks. Why the fuck was she crying? This was the plan. Go back to the compound. Return to her regularly scheduled life. Strengthen her leg and return to helping people find refuge with The Wanderers.

Taking a deep breath, she shoved off the door and turned on the shower. The tears kept falling. They wouldn’t stop. They were unwelcome and strange. She stripped off the clothes she’d put on minutes ago and stepped under the water.

Still, the tears fell. At least in here, she couldn’t see them, but she knew they were there and she was struggling not to add sobs to the mix. Noisy sobs that everyone would hear.

She squeezed her eyes shut as the water ran down her body. She hadn’t meant to get her hair wet, but it was unavoidable. The messy braid she’d attempted was soaked as she let the water continue to wash away her tears.

What was wrong with her? She had to get out of this cramped space. She wasn’t meant to remain in such a small bunker. It wasn’t her style. Nor was setting up house with three men.

Fuck.

Luckily, no one came to her. No one opened the bathroom door to check on her. If they had, she might have slid to the shower floor, a giant ball of emotional madness.

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