Justin's POV
She left on Sunday evening.
I stood by the door longer than I should have after she walked out, the faint trace of her scent still hanging in the air—lavender and something warm, like home. Her footsteps echoed faintly in the hallway as she left, each one sounding like a goodbye I wasn't ready for.
Was it wrong to want her to stay? To want to wake up to her tucked into the same blankets with me, her hair a tangled mess on my pillow, her breath soft and steady beside mine?
For someone who used to be alone—no, for someone who preferred to be alone—I was becoming attached to June way too fast. Too much. Too deeply. And I didn't know what the hell to do about it.
And it wasn't just about the sex — though that had been mind-numbing in the best kind of way. It was about her presence. The quiet moments. The way she filled up a space, not with noise, but with this soft, aching calm that seemed to settle over my chaos.
