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“Staying,” I admit, shrugging with a grin.

She hands me the receipt with a knowing smile. “Well, welcome back.”

Back at home, I unpack the groceries and get to work on the cookies. The kitchen fills with the smell of melting butter and sugar, and for the first time in a while, I feel okay.

Being here feels right.

I slide the first batch into the oven and set a timer. While they bake, I clean up the counters and think about Dad.

Maybe I’ll surprise him. Bring some cookies to his office and drag him out for lunch. The thought makes me smile.

By noon, I’ve got two dozen cookies cooling on a wire rack. I grab a container and pile a dozen inside, covering them with foil.

Grabbing my bag and the cookies, I head to the high school.

Chapter 3

“Baby, just take it off already,” I say, trying to keep my voice low even though the frustration’s creeping in. I’m staring at Maya on my laptop screen, desperate to see some of her skin. “I’ve been waiting all day for this.”

Maya giggles, leaning closer to the camera. The strap of her tank top slides off her shoulder, and I swear, my mouth goes dry.

“You’re so thirsty,” she teases, her voice soft.

“Yeah? So, juice me.”

She rolls her eyes but tugs the strap down a little more, giving me the tiniest hint of her bra. It’s black lace, her favorite. My favorite too.

“You miss me?” she asks, tilting her head.

“Miss you? Baby, I miss every goddamn inch of you. Your tits, your ass — hell, even the way you steal my fries when we’re out.”

She laughs, biting her lip. “Anything else?”

“That pussy, baby,” I shoot back, grinning.

Her hand dips out of view, and I know exactly what she’s doing. My body’s already reacting, my pants pressing against my hard on.

“Show me,” I say, leaning closer to the screen. “C’mon, baby, let me see you.”

She hesitates for a second, then slides her tank top down, revealing—

The screen freezes.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I groan, slamming my hand against the desk. “Maya? Maya!”

Nothing. Just her frozen, pixelated image, stuck in mid-motion.

I run a hand through my hair, trying not to lose my shit. This is the third time this week. Third. Time.

After about ten seconds, the call drops entirely.

I stare at the blank screen, jaw clenched.

“Great. Just fucking great.”

I slam the laptop shut, shoving it to the side. This long-distance thing is not working. I know it. She knows it. Hell, even the damn internet seems to know it.

But I’m not ready to give up. Not yet.