Page 4 of Hooked on Love

I pull on my robe, tying it firmly at the waist, then take another breath before unlocking the door. Voices drift from the living room, low and tense. I catch snippets as I pad down the hallway on bare feet.

“—didn’t think you’d be back for another month—”

“—engine died, boat is a wreck, I had nowhere else to go—”

“—can’t just kick her out, she has a sublease—”

I round the corner into the living room and all three of them turn to stare at me.

Jake’s pulled on a shirt—unfortunately, because my traitorous brain had definitely noticed the muscles—and he’s standing by the couch with his arms crossed. Luke and Molly are near the door, ready to leave at the drop of a hat.

“I’m really sorry about this,” Luke starts, but I hold up a hand.

“Where is he supposed to sleep?” I ask, because despite everything, I’m not heartless. The man clearly had a rough day. There’s exhaustion written in every line of his face, and that grease isn’t decorative.

“He can stay with us,” Molly offers immediately. “Our couch—”

“Is a loveseat,” Jake mutters.

Molly bites her lip. “I have an air mattress, but Mitch borrowed it a while ago. I can call him and see…” she trails off, glancing at the clock on the stove. It’s too late to be hunting down an air mattress.

“Fuckin’ great,” Jake grumbles, and Molly’s shoulders fall.

“Watch your tone. You’re the one who should’ve called ahead,” Luke shoots back.

They’re going to argue. I can see it building. And I’m too tired for this. Too raw. Too aware that I’m standing here in a bathrobe in front of strangers while my heart still hasn’t returned to its normal rhythm.

“He can stay here,” I hear myself say.

Everyone stares at me.

“Really?” Jake’s eyebrows shoot up.

“You can stay here,” I repeat, because apparently, I’ve lost my mind. “On the couch. Just for tonight. Tomorrow we’ll figure out something else.”

“Peyton, you don’t have to—” Molly starts.

“I know.” I cross my arms, mirroring Jake’s stance. “But it’s late, everyone’s exhausted, and clearly, there’s been a misunderstanding. So, he can stay for tonight.”

Jake’s studying me now, those dark eyes—green, I realize in the better light—assessing. “You sure?”

No. “Yes.”

“Okay, then.” Luke claps his hands together, clearly relieved to escape this disaster. “We’ll let you two work out the details. Peyton, again, I’m so sorry. I should’ve told you Jake had a key. And Jake—” He points at his brother. “—don’t be an asshole.”

“When am I ever an asshole?” Jake says, deadpan.

Luke chuckles, and I get the sense I’m missing the punchline. He ushers his girlfriend out the door and he follows. The door clicks shut behind them. And suddenly, it’s just me and Jake, standing in the living room of an apartment we’re apparently sharing for the night.

For a moment, neither of us moves.

Then Jake sighs, running a hand over his face. “Look. I really am sorry about before. I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

The apology catches me off guard. He sounds sincere. Tired, frustrated, but sincere.

“I know,” I say quietly. “And I’m sorry I screamed in your face.”

“You had every right to.” A tiny smile tugs at his lips and I wait for it to break into a full-fledged grin, but it doesn’t. “I’m surprised you didn’t grab something and hit me with it.”