CHAPTER 88: ONE HOUR TOO LONG

Merlina was in bed, but her body hadn’t moved on, covers tangled around her legs as she tossed again, restless and burning.

Beneath the sheets felt warm and too heavy. Her skin still craved his touch, every nerve lit with memory. She pressed her thighs together and groaned into her pillow.

God, what was wrong with her?

She hadn’t even tried to stop it. Not once. It had been his voice, his restraint, his maddening calm that ended it. Not her.

She turned over again, reaching instinctively for the other side of the bed. Empty. Still cold. It didn’t even look slept in.

That’s right—he had only flown in today. He probably hadn’t even gotten a chance to lay on the bed. She bit her lip, breath shallow.

How the hell had she gone from annoyed to desperate in one evening?

She buried her face in the pillow again. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his lips against hers, the way he looked at her like she was already his.

All it took was one flight to Spain, one unexpected appearance at the festival, a string of bold texts, and one reckless act of kindness during the snowstorm...and he was pulling loose every thread she thought she’d tied tight.

She hadn’t once thought about Louis. Or Megan. Or what would happen if this got out.

She’d never been this swept up in someone before. She never really thought it was possible to want somebody that much.

Downstairs, as if feeling the same pull from across the house, Craig stood at the window of the guesthouse, a half-glass of red wine in his hand, long since forgotten. He hadn’t touched it in minutes.

She was right above him, close enough to reach if he took ten steps, opened one door.

He dragged a hand through his hair, jaw clenched. He hated that he had to stop. He could’ve had her. Right there. He could still go to her now.

But he didn’t.

Because he knew Merlina. Knew the way her mind worked, how quick she was to backpedal, how regret lived on the edge of her choices. With her siblings next door, she’d overthink. She’d spiral.

And God, he didn’t want it to be a regret. Not after everything.

So he stayed downstairs, drinking wine he didn’t really want, body tense, jaw tighter, willing the memory of her moan to stop playing on repeat in his head.

By 5:03 a.m., Merlina was wide awake.

Not that she’d really slept. Her body never fully gave in, no matter how hard she tried. She stared at the ceiling, then checked her phone again. The snowstorm had cleared. The roads were slowly being reopened.

Good.

She couldn’t stay here another second. Throwing on her jacket, she padded down the hall and knocked on Isabel and Melissa’s door.

After what felt like forever, Melissa finally opened it, hair wild, eyes still bleary.

"We’re leaving," Merlina whispered.

Melissa blinked. "Now?"

"Yes, the snow’s cleared."

Melissa turned and walked back to bed without a word and flopped down onto the mattress, like she didn’t hear a damn thing.

"Melissa."

Merlina called again, voice sharper this time. When silence answered, she reached out and switched on the lights, flooding the room with brightness.

Melissa squinted at the light, lifting her head just enough to look at her, then she grabbed her phone, "It’s 5am in the morning. Are you insane?"

Isabel stirred under the blanket. "Qué Pasa? Merlina...cinco de la mañana? Ni el dueño de esta casa se ha despertado." (What is going on ? Merlina... Five in the morning? Not even the owner of this house is awake.")

"I don’t care," Merlina said, trying not to sound like she was losing it again. "We’re leaving in one hour. One. No excuses."

Melissa groaned. "Fine. One hour."

"I mean it."

"We heard you," Isabel muttered, turning over.

Defeated, Merlina turned off the light and headed down the hall to the next room. She knocked softly on the door. Carlos cracked it open, rubbing his eyes.

"Hola," he said sleepily.

"Just checking," she whispered. "We’re leaving in an hour. Can you let Alistair know?"

Carlos nodded. "Yeah, yeah. Got it."

She stepped back and returned to her room, the hallway quiet behind her.

One hour, she told herself. No matter how much her skin still burned. No matter how much she wanted to storm down the stairs and find Craig. One hour,

and they were leaving.

She checked her phone again. She was counting down the minutes. Maybe, once they were gone... she’d finally be able to breathe.

It was finally time.

Alistair, Melissa, Carlos, and Isabel were still dragging their feet, yawning and stretching like they had all the time in the world. Merlina stood by the base of the stairs, jacket on, bag in hand, resisting the urge to start honking a nonexistent horn.

She rifled through her bag, found a pen and a scrap of paper, and scribbled a quick note:

’We’re heading out’

She moved toward the kitchen to leave it on the counter, but as she turned the corner, she nearly collided with Craig.

He was already there. Maybe he’d heard her footsteps. Maybe he’d been awake.

"Hey," he said, voice low.

"Hey." She gently curled the paper tighter in her hand, as if hiding it from him might also hide the tinge rising to her face.

The air between them pulsed with everything they didn’t do, the heat of a kiss that hadn’t gone far enough, the ache of wanting and stopping and still wanting.

"I was gonna tell you, we’re leaving," Merlina managed, her voice low but steady.

Craig blinked, caught off guard. "Now? I thought you’d at least stay for breakfast." He hesitated, then added, "There’s a chef that comes in around seven..."

Merlina exhaled, almost laughed, but it came out brittle. "I’m not gonna let you feed my family now, Craig."

He nodded, jaw tight, eyes flickering with something unspoken. "Right. Of course."

The silence pressed in, not awkward but it was heavy. Flooding with memories of what almost happened upstairs. What still lingered between them, soft, aching and close.

He looked at her, eyes a little too intense, voice low and rough. "Did you sleep well?"

She blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

"I didn’t," he said simply. "Did you?"

"Why?" she asked at once, concern slipping into her voice before she could stop it. "Was the room uncomfortable?"

He gave her a long look, like the answer was already between them. "You know why."

Her stomach knotted, breath catching as a flush spread over her chest and neck. She looked away, too fast, like she couldn’t risk holding his gaze.

"Right," she said, low and strained, then pressed her lips together and turned sharply toward the stairs. Her chest tightened. She needed to move, to do anything but look at him again. "God...what’s taking them so long?"

Craig didn’t respond, he just watched her, steady and silent like he could see straight through her composure.

Like he knew the reason she was in such a rush to leave had less to do with the snow or the hour... and everything to do with the way her voice had just trembled. With the flush still warming her skin.

She wasn’t just eager to go.

She was running.

And he felt it, in the pit of his stomach, in the quiet, aching part of him that still wanted her to stay.

Merlina could feel his eyes on her, like a touch she wasn’t ready for. Her skin still buzzed, still couldn’t breathe easy around him. She couldn’t even looked at him again, without everything inside her cracking open.

"Oh my God. I forgot my phone."

Her voice was too sharp, too sudden but it was safer than silence. Safer than letting him see just how much she didn’t want to look back.

"I’m heading up anyway," Craig said. "I’ll let Melissa know to bring it."

She nodded. "Thanks."

A few moments later, the others finally appeared, backpacks slung over shoulders, jackets only half-zipped. Quick goodbyes were exchanged, polite thank yous for the night.

Then they were piling into the car, the cold biting at their cheeks as Merlina started the engine, cause Carlos was too groggy to drive.

In the backseat, Alistair grumbled, "Wow, Merlina. You couldn’t even let us stay for breakfast?"

"Yeah and he was offering," Melissa added, resting her head on the back seat window.

"Seriously," Isabel added, dramatic sigh and all. "Rushed us out like we were squatters or something."

Merlina didn’t even respond. She just kept driving. After a few turns, a couple of traffic lights, and one too-long silence that no one bothered to fill, the house came into view.

Their father met them at the door, Grandma behind him in her slippers and shawl, arms already crossed like she’d been waiting. There were short greetings, mild scoldings, a little fuss over the hour and the cold but nothing too dramatic.

Merlina offered a tired smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Her body ached for rest, but her mind wouldn’t stop replaying the night—every look, every kiss, every inch of skin that still felt scorched.

She headed straight for her room, too drained to engage in any back-and-forth. All she wanted was to crash into sleep.

She kicked off her shoes, collapsed onto the edge of the bed and she froze.

"My phone..."

She’d forgotten it.

In Craig’s house.

In his room.

Of course she had, because leaving him cleanly was never going to be easy.