But memory is cruel. And it rushes back all at once. My eyes fly open. The other side of the bed is empty. The sheet is undisturbed. The pillow uncreased. No indentation of a body that stayed.
He left. Of course he did. Men like Dean Ross are allergic to the sunrise.
I press the heels of my hands to my eyes, willing the ache behind them to settle. It doesn’t. It blooms, sharp and humiliating. I’m not new to hookups or exits or bad decisions, but something about last night… God, it felt different. It felt like he wanted me, not just my body, and I let myself believe it for a second.
Stupid.
I swing my legs off the bed and nearly curse when my feet hit the cool floor. Everything hurts in that very specific way that says you were a little too honest with your body last night and look how that turned out.
I take a quick shower and avoid looking in the bathroom mirror entirely. I don’t need to see “disappointment” reflected back at me. I pull my hair into a knot and throw on shorts, a tank, and there’s a knock at the door.
“Sadie? Hey,” Lily’s voice calls softly. “You up?”
I pause. My heart squeezes. If anyone on this tour is safe to talk to, it’s Lily. She’s softness wrapped around steel, all empathy and zero judgment.
I open the door. She takes one look at me and gently pushes inside. “You okay? You look like you lost a fight with… feelings.”
I laugh weakly. “I wish it were that simple.”
Her brows lift. “Oh.”
Oh. She knows. She doesn’t know knows, but she knows. I sit on the bed, knees pulled up, fingers twisting the hem of my shirt. “Lily, promise you’ll keep this between us?”
She sits beside me instantly. “Of course.”
I take a breath that tastes like regret. “I slept with Dean.”
Her eyes widen, not in shock, but more in a holy-shit-are-you-okay way. “Last night?”
I nod.
“And… this morning?” she asks gently.
“He was gone before I woke up.”
A soft curse leaves her lips. “I’m sorry, Sadie.”
“Don’t be,” I whisper, looking down at my hands. “I know exactly who he is. I knew what he was capable of. I knew it would be a mistake. It’s just, he wasn’t cold. Not last night.”
Lily’s expression softens. “He isn’t always cold. Sometimes he just shuts down before he gets hurt.”
“Well,” I scoff, “he’s doing a great job making sure no one ever gets close enough to try.”
Lily puts a warm hand over mine. “Just be careful with your heart, okay? He’s not a bad man. He’s just a man who thinks he can’t afford to feel anything.”
I nod, swallowing hard. “Yeah. I’m learning that the hard way.”
She squeezes my hand. “Come find me later if you need air. If tonight’s show is chaotic backstage, I can pull you into a safe corner.”
I almost cry at the kindness. “Thanks, Lil.”
She leaves with one more worried glance, and I force myself to head downstairs, camera slung across my chest like armor. It’s too bright out here. Too busy. Crew members are rolling cases down the carpet, techs with walkies pass by, housekeeping carts squeak around corners.
It’s all normal tour noise. And yet I feel like someone peeled my skin back. The second I hit the lobby; I see him.
Dean. Leaning against a marble pillar like the universe hired him to ruin my day. His hair is still damp from a shower; his shirt is clinging to the kind of muscles I have no business remembering; his jaw is shadowed like he didn’t sleep, which honestly? Good. His eyes lift. Lock on me instantly. And I hate, hate the way my pulse jumps. I force my feet to keep moving toward the group.
Mikey is sprawled across two chairs, eating a muffin like it personally offended him. Hayden is sipping coffee and scrolling something on his phone. Dean is halfway apart from them, like a warning sign carved into stone.
