Page 186 of Ruin My Life

I stare at the dent in the pillow where her head rested, the imprint of her body still lingering like a ghost.

I knew this might happen. Hell, shetoldme she wasn’t sure she’d ever stop running. But she also told me I was the one person she regretted running from.

She let me lose myself in her. Body and soul. Only to vanish again—and take my fucking heart with her.

I sit up slowly, dragging both hands over my face before squinting into the light bleeding through the window.

The morning is too bright. Too still. And I wonder how far she’s gone this time. How long it’ll take me to find her. If this is just how it’s going to be from now on—me forever chasing a woman who cant bring herself to stay.

Then the doorknob twists.

The bedroom door creaks open.

Brie nudges it with her hip, balancing two steaming mugs in her hands. Her hair’s still a mess, sleep-tangled and wild. She’s wearing the same T-shirt from last night, and my sweatpants, rolled at the waist—just like she did that first time we met.

When she looks up and sees me, she smiles.

And I swear I feel it in my fucking chest, like a defibrillator shocking me back to life.

“You’re awake,” she says, kicking the door closed with her foot. “Your mom was making coffee, and I couldn’t resist. I wasn’t sure how you take it, so if it’s wrong, you can blame her.”

She hands me a mug and climbs back into bed beside me, long legs folded under her, sipping from her own cup.

I stare at her for a moment, not touching the coffee. Just watching her. Processing.

“You’re still here.”

She blinks, turning her head.

Then a small frown forms between her brows.

“You thought I left…”

“The bed was empty—”

“Again,” she finishes softly. “Shit. I’m sorry. I should’ve woken you before I got up. But you were sleeping so soundly, and I thought maybe… maybe you deserved a few extra minutes.”

I don’t wait for her to say more.

I reach for her, wrap an arm around her waist, and pull her between my legs until her back presses into my chest. She gasps, careful not to spill her coffee, and I run my nose along the curve of her neck.

Her skin still smells like sex, like sweat and need—but underneath it all, that same soft rose scent lingers. As if it’s built into her blood. Coded into her DNA.

“It’s okay,” I murmur, lips brushing her throat. “I’m just happy you’re here.”

She smiles, leaning into me, her body relaxing like she’s finally safe.

She tilts her chin, offering me her mouth, and I meet her halfway. Her lips taste like everything I’ve ever wanted—so much better than coffee.

“I’m happy I’m here too,” she whispers.

I look down at the mugs in our hands—matching in shape, but not in contents. Whatever’s in hers is lighter than pure cream, while mine’s dark as sin.

“What are you drinking?” I ask.

“Coffee,” she says like it’s obvious.

I raise a brow. “That looks like a cup of milk.”