New Year's Eve arrived without fanfare, without the usual excitement that came with the hopes of a fresh start. There were no elaborate party plans, no potential midnight kisses, no celebrations. Just Reese, alone in her condo, surrounded by the remnants of a Christmas that felt like a lifetime ago.
She carefully packed away the last of the holiday decorations. The delicate string lights came down first, unwound slowly, their glow fading with each coil she wrapped into a neat bundle. They disappeared into their storage box, followed by the ornaments, each one tucked away with careful precision. The tree came last. She dismantled it methodically, the artificial branches folding into themselves before she stuffed it back into its box and dragged it into the closet.
She stared at the unwrapped gifts that sat in a corner before finally forcing herself to move them, placing them on the highest shelf of her closet where they would be out of sight. She had cleaned every inch of her condo; she had scrubbed the kitchen, polished the countertops, wiped down the glass surfaces, vacuumed twice, and laundered every soft thing in her home. It was as if cleaning the space could cleanse her mind, could sweep away the pieces of herself that still ached with uncertainty.
But it didn't.
The new year was looming, and yet nothing felt new. The only thing that had changed was that she had run out of things to do. As the clock crept toward midnight, the city outside her windows erupted with distant celebrations—laughter, fireworks, cheers from those who had someone to celebrate with.
The sound felt far away, separate from her. She stood in the dim glow of her living room, her arms crossed over her chest, staring at the darkened sky beyond her windows. The world was moving forward. She was standing still.
She needed to move.
Reese made her way to the bathroom, turning on the shower and stepping beneath the steady stream. The heat wrapped around her, chasing away the chill that had settled deep in her bones. She let the water cascade over her face, her hands running over her arms, down her torso, across her thighs.
But no matter how hard she scrubbed,she couldn't wash away the memories.
Collin's hands—warm, familiar, steady—trailing down her spine, gripping her waist. His voice in her ear, soft but certain, the way he whispered her name like it meant something.
Christian's touch—fierce, possessive, searing against her skin. The way he had taken his time, watching her unravel, his mouth tracing fire along her collarbone. The way he never asked, never hesitated, just took what he wanted. And the way she had let him.
She exhaled sharply, pressing her palms against the tile as the water pounded against her back.
She had spent days—trying to sort through the mess in her head, trying to pick apart what had led her here. The guilt. The desire. The choices she couldn't undo.
She thought that time would make the answer clearer.
It hadn't.
Reese stepped out of the shower and stood in front of her bathroom mirror, the steam from her shower clinging to the glass. She wiped a hand across the surface, watching her own reflection come into focus. Her skin was still damp, her dark curls falling over her shoulders.
She exhaled.
Then, as if something inside her had clicked into place, she made a decision.
She walked into her bedroom, moving with purpose and slipped into a delicate lace lingerie set—black, sultry, chosen with intention. The lingerie clung to her body, delicate lace that dipped in all the right places, the fabric thin and indulgent. Over it, she draped a form-fitted black petticoat, cinching the belt loosely around her waist, letting the sheer fabric fall over her curves, concealing just enough. She didn't think as she slid on her heels, didn't pause as she grabbed her keys from the dresser and walked out of her bedroom. The moment she stepped outside, the cold night air pressed against her skin, a sharp contrast to the warmth of her home.
She slid into the driver's seat of her car. Her hands gripped the steering wheel, fingers tightening as she inhaled slowly, exhaling even slower.
She wasn't sure if she was making the right choice.
Or maybe she was.
Maybe she had known the moment she walked out of her front door.
The thought unsettled her.
The war in her mind had waged silently for days, but now, as she weaved through the crowded streets, it became louder.
Every red light, every turn, every stretch of road pulled her deeper into the back-and-forth that had consumed her.
She could turn the car around. She could go home, crawl into bed, let the night pass. She could pretend this wasn't eating away at her, pretend that she hadn't spent the last week stuck in her own head, trying to find an answer she already knew.
She could make the logical choice, the safe choice, the one that wouldn't leave a mess in its wake.
Or she could keep driving.
Her foot pressed down on the accelerator.
The city blurred past her, the neon lights of downtown flickering through the windshield. The tension in her stomach twisted, coiled so tight she thought she might come undone right there in her seat.
Her phone buzzed on the passenger seat, the glow of the screen cutting through the dim interior of the car. Without taking her eyes off the road, Reese reached over, swiping the message open at the next red light.
11:47 PM Naomi: What's the plan for tomorrow? You still hiding out or are we actually going to celebrate the new year like normal people?
She exhaled, her fingers hovering over the keyboard for a moment before typing back.
11:49 PM Reese: Not hiding. Just was busy cleaning up today, getting my life together. You know, fresh start and all that.
A bubble popped up, then disappeared, then popped up again.
11:50 PM Naomi: Uh-huh. And by "fresh start" you mean locking yourself in your condo and avoiding real human interaction?
Reese smirked, shaking her head.
11:52 PM Reese: Something like that.
11:53 PM Naomi: Well, don't get too comfortable in hermit mode. We're definitely going out tomorrow night! You need it.
11:55 PM Reese: Fine.
She hit send, her grip tightening around the steering wheel as the light turned green. Her stomach twisted, but she ignored it, pulling into the dimly lit parking garage.
Her heartbeat pounded steadily, a rhythm that matched the click of her heels as she stepped out of the car and made her way toward the elevators. She pressed the button, her breath slow, steady.
The doors slid open, and as she stepped inside, she watched the numbers climb, each floor bringing her closer. Finally, the elevator dinged, and the doors parted. She stepped into the hallway, and the air grew thick around her.
Her heels clicked against the marble floors, each step deliberate, unhurried. The short hallway seemed to stretch in front of her, and for a moment, she hesitated. But only for a moment. She walked forward, her breath measured, her pulse a steady thrum beneath her skin. She reached the door, lifted her hand, and knocked.
The door opened.
"Reese," his voice was low and firm with a hint of confusion.
She untied the belt of her petticoat, letting it slip from her shoulders, dropping to the ground to pool around her heels revealing the delicate lace beneath. He took in the sight of her, his lips parting slightly, but before he could speak, she lifted a finger to his lips, silencing him.
"Don't speak, "she whispered.
A slow smirk curled at the corners of his mouth as he pushed the door closed behind her.