Mark snorts. Derek pinches the bridge of his nose like he’s trying not to laugh.
“Levi,” Derek says, voice controlled, “she’s safe. She can rest. If you want, I can bring her home when she’s steady enough.”
Silence.
Then Levi exhales. “Fine. Text me the address anyway.”
Derek rattles it off without hesitation.
“Thank you,” Levi says, and the sincerity catches me off guard. Levi has never thanked Derek Pierce for anything in his life.
He pauses, then adds, quieter, “Audra?”
“I’m here,” I whisper.
“I’m sorry I lost track of you,” he says. “I was with Shannon. She was… a mess.”
“I know,” I say. “I’m sorry too.”
“You better not be sorry,” Levi says fiercely. “You did nothing wrong.”
My throat tightens again.
“I’ll check in later,” he says. “If you don’t text me back, I’m breaking into that man heaven, steal his boxer briefs, and sell them on eBay. The women would go insane for them!.”
"I think that'd be interesting," Mark mutters loudly, leaning toward the phone. “He’ll have to hide, wear a disguise.”
Alex laughs. “He will. It'll be epic. Do it! Do it! Do it!.”
Levi’s laugh is rough but real. “Bye, Audra.”
“Bye,” I whisper, and hang up before my emotions can spill out of me like something I can’t stop.
I stare at my phone for a second, then send Shannon a quick message too: I’m okay. I’m safe. Levi’s with you? I’m sorry.
My hands shake.
I hate that they shake.
“You don’t have to answer anyone else right now,” Derek says quietly. He’s still standing, like he can’t settle while I’m unsettled. “They know you’re alive. That’s enough.”
Alive.
The word is scary and a relief.
Mark leans forward, elbows on his knees. His tone shifts—still warm, but less joking. “You want to know what happened?”
My stomach flips. Part of me wants to. Part of me wants to pretend the night never existed.
“Yes,” I say anyway. “But… slow. We might have talked about it before, but I don't remember."
Alex nods. “We can do slow.”
Derek moves to the kitchen and comes back with a glass of apple juice—half full, like earlier. He sets it in front of me without comment.
I take a cautious sip. Cold. Tart. Clean. My mouth almost cries with relief.
“Okay,” I say, voice steadier now. “Start with the bar.”
