Beck POV
For three days, I did what I had promised myself.
I kept my distance. I stayed out of her yard. I didn't walk her home. When she clocked out, I locked the door behind her, and I stood there with my forehead against the wood and listened to her boots go up Main Street until I couldn't hear them anymore.
Then I went upstairs and didn't sleep.
It was torture. I'm not going to dress it up. She walked a mile in the dark on Wednesday, and Thursday, and at two in the morning on Friday. I lay on top of the covers every one of those nights with no idea whether she had made it to her door.
I breathed again every afternoon at a quarter to four, when she came through mine.
Then she would tie that apron around her waist, and I would spend the next eight hours thinking about untying it.
