Page 14 of Oathbreaker

But he’s not here.

And my life—and my love life—has gotten a lot more complicated.

So much more complicated.

“Do you want to sleep at my house?” he says. “Come over whenever you’re done?”

God, no.

I can’t have West and his strong arms and broad chest—not to mention his truly impressive kissing skills—muddle my head further.

I need to think.

I need to plan.

I need?—

“It doesn’t matter how late you’d be,” he murmurs. “I’d just be happy to wake up next to you.”

Because we haven’t done that yet.

Because we haven’t done it yet.

“I’m really tired,” I reply back, my tone soft. “I should probably finish up and head home.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “Okay, sweetheart.” Then before I can respond, he says, “I’ll let you get back to it so you can get it done and get home.”

Another lash of guilt.

“Thanks, West,” I whisper.

“Text me when you get home.”

“I will,” I say, and I hate that it’s another lie. I’ll text him, of course I will.

But it’ll be another lie because I’m going to set an alarm to text at a suitably late hour and pretend to just be arriving home and sliding into bed.

Ugh.

I shove that down and ignore the guilt battering at my insides as we say our goodbyes and hang up.

I set that alarm.

Pretype the text so I can just hit send later.

Then I gird my loins.

Because Colt is here.

He’s alive.

And I need to talk to him about something important.

About something even more important than his reappearance from the other side.

Something that doesn’t just affect me.

Exhaling, I head downstairs, turn the corner, and push into the guest room to find?—