A Perfect Chance by Becca Lee

forty-eight hours had left me tired but crazily wired. From me and Mace forming our relationship—after wild, hot monkey sex—to my meeting some of his family, to then discovering my brother approved, while the ghosts of Mace's past had come knocking on the door, it was no wonder my mind was buzzing.
    I didn't really have girlfriends I could text or call to vent to. It was something I missed. My uni friends had moved on, going forward with their own lives after I left. A few had tried to stay in touch, but that first year after the attack was especially hard. I'd been in a dark place, and nobody was really able to reach me. Not even Diesel. It had been hard on him.
    Lying in my bed, I thumbed through my Kindle for something easy to read. The knowledge of how badly Diesel had taken my attack always hit me hard when I thought about it. I really did need to take full control of my life, for his sanity as well as my own. I needed to get out from under his feet and out of his house. If he guessed that I was even thinking such a thing, I knew he'd hit the roof. He'd never admit to me how much he hurt, how lost and alone he really was. Sadness hit me, quickly followed by renewed determination.
    I would get there. Come hell or high water, we'd both find our happy place.
    I picked up my phone, deciding I should really make an effort to get to know some of the women at the club better. I was friendly with a few, Janie included, but we weren't quite at the stage of pick up the phone and talk shit yet. One day, though, it would be good to make that happen.
    Instead, I texted Mace. After the news of Nox, he wouldn't be in a place where he needed to talk. I got that, respected it even. It didn't mean that I couldn't let him know I was thinking about him.
    Me: Don't stay up too late. I don't want you falling asleep on me tomorrow. :]
    I realised I was waiting, staring at my goddamn phone, waiting for him to text me. After just two days I'd apparently become needy. I snorted in derision, shook my head at myself, and placed my phone and Kindle on my bedside table. I flicked off the light and lay back, pulling the sheet over me.
    I’d closed my eyes for barely five seconds before I released an annoyed huff. I turned to my side and stared at my phone, just seeing its outline in the darkness, helped by the light spilling in from the moon. I grabbed the phone and reopened my text.
    Me: Miss you.
    It was what I'd really wanted to let him know the first time, so why fool myself or attempt to play games? Life was too damn short for bullshit. Satisfied, I placed the phone back and snuggled down.
    He didn't need to text me back. My message was enough for both of us.
    I yawned, turning over, my bed creaking lightly. I placed my palm on my cheek and forced my breathing to slow. It was amazing that even when truly bolloxed, it could be difficult to fall asleep. It was one of those damn nights. I wasn't quite sure how long I’d been lying in the darkness debating counting sheep when I heard the faint rumble of a motorbike. It moved closer until it suddenly stopped. I held my breath in anticipation. There were occasionally times when someone would come by to speak to Diesel in an emergency if he'd called them over. But I didn't hear any movement coming from the back of the house or the hallway.
    I released my breath and breathed shallowly, remaining quiet so I could listen. My breathing and my heartbeat were the only sounds registering. Then crunching gravel. Soft footfalls. I sat up and climbed out of bed, making my way to the window. We lived in a two-storey house, which meant I'd be able to get a good view of the yard and driveway.
    The security light flicked on, making me jump, lighting up my room. A quiet curse followed. I nudged the blinds aside to peer through my window, my heart speeding up and my stomach doing backflips when I saw him. Mace.
    He stood below my bedroom window, his phone in hand. Pushing the blinds aside fully, I opened the