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And I feel it.

Everywhere.

“Breakfast?” he asks, holding up a plate like he does this every day.

I shake my head. “I’m not hungry.”

He nods and sets the plate down as my girls get back to their pancakes.

Then he approaches me, slowly, deliberately, and my stomach flips.

He lowers his voice. “Did you talk to your sister?”

I nod. “I did it over text. Just in case he has my phone tapped.”

“Smart,” he says, and the compliment surprises me. “Once the girls are safe with her, I’ll have my friend make the call letting him know you’re ‘gone.’”

I nod, watching the way his lips move, the sharp angle of his jaw, the perfectly trimmed goatee, and the way his black t-shirt clings to the outline of his broad chest. He smells like the soap in the guest bath, but there’s also a faint trace of his cologne. Something woody, but slightly sweet. The smell makes something curl deep in my belly and I hate myself for it.

He takes a few steps back, thank God, but I make the mistake of locking eyes with him. There’s a jolt of familiarity, of connection, and I force myself to look away. I have to.

Without another word, I leave the kitchen to put my clothes on, and I feel his eyes on me.

I hate that I like it.

While King loads the girls’ luggage into the trunk of my car, I oversee them buckling themselves in.

“Auntie is so happy y’all are coming over,” I say with forced cheerfulness.

“What about school?” Kelice asks, fairly. “I have a spelling test today.”

“I know, baby. You’ll be able to make it up.” I blow out a sigh. “Henry’s happy to see y’all, too.”

That little deflection did what it was supposed to. The girls jump and squeal in their seats. Brett wouldn’t let them get a dog, so Ebony’s golden doodle Henry is their furry best friend. I still don’t know why she gave him a name that makes him sound like he has a nine-to-five and a mortgage, but he’s adorable.

The drive over to Ebony’s is quiet, but my thoughts are anything but.

Every few minutes, I give King a sideways glance, wondering how we got here. Less than twenty-four hours ago, he was a stranger. A stranger with a gun and a plan. And now? He’s…something else.

And this situation is extremely difficult to reconcile, as is the fact that I lowkey feel safe with this man. For now.

And that’s the other thing. I’m living in the moment for the first time in as long as I can remember. No clear plan, no clear destination. It’s scary, but there’s also this other feeling, a feeling I hate. And that’s the pulse of something I haven’t felt in years.

I feelalive.

As soon as we pull into Ebony’s driveway, Rae’s little feet start moving a mile a minute against the back of my seat. Even from the car, I see the worry on Ebony’s face as soon as she opens the door.

“I’ll be right back,” I say to King as I exit and follow the girls up the driveway.

They give their auntie a hug, but they really want Henry, so they disappear into the house and head toward his room—yes, he has his own room.

“What’s going on?” she asks, her eyes scanning the driveway and landing on King behind the wheel. “Who is th—“

“You promised you wouldn’t ask questions,” I remind her, trying to keep my voice calm. “Just…watch the girls for me. That’s all I need.”

Her lower lip trembles. “Sable…”

Tears well up in my eyes. I hate lying to my sister. I hate making her worry. But this is literally life and death, so I wrap my arms around myself, bracing for the next part.