Seattle,it’s good to be back.
As soon as we step off the plane and into the cloudy, early-Saturday afternoon, exhaustion hits me even more. I didn’t sleep a wink during the flight, unlike Oliver and Grey, who were out cold the entire time, snoring softly in their seats. Misha and I tried to keep each other entertained with movies, but it only made me more tired, my eyes growing heavier as the hours ticked by, but sleep still evaded me.
Leaving London behind wasn’t hard, aside from doing it without saying goodbye to August. I sent Abigail a quick text before takeoff, letting her know I’d be there for her if she needed help when or if she moved to the States.
It’s the least I can do, given that I’ve left her alone with that now.
Getting a cab home feels strangely normal after being driven around in a Bentley for the last two weeks.
Something in me settles as we weave through the Seattle traffic. The constant city noise—the blaring sirens, the ceaseless hum of engines—wraps around me like a familiar blanket. Home.
The life I choose to live.
We arrive at our building, take the elevator up to the fourteenth floor, and finally reach my apartment. I open the door with my smartwatch, the soft beep welcomes me home, and I step inside, finding it’s exactly as I left it.
Maybe even a little tidier.
I have to get Morgan something nice.
The plants look like they’ve been watered, their leaves perky and green, there’s no dust anywhere, and the fish are happily swimming in the aquarium, darting back and forth. I kick off my shoes, set down my bag with a soft thud, and walk over to the tetras, my feet padding on the hardwood floor.
“Did you miss me, little ones?” I ask, crouching down to look at them, my finger tracing their movements through the glass. “I hope you weren’t too lonely without me.”
What a plot twist.
Rescued to keep me company, only to be left behind.
“Are your babies well?” Misha asks as he and the guys step farther into the room, his voice tinged with amusement.
I stand straight and smile at him. “Looks like Morgan did a good job.”
Walking past him, I notice the note I left on the table, my own handwriting staring back at me.
Have fun watching the fish.
I freeze and look up at the cameras around the room, my gaze lingering on each one, and a weird feeling settles inside me, like a stone in my stomach. Turning away from the table, I catch my reflection in the mirror on the wall behind it.
I’m wearing sweatpants, one of Misha’s hoodies, and have my hair in a messy bun and glasses back on my nose.
Finally, the girl in the mirror looks familiar again.
Yet somehow different.
I’m back to being myself.
And back to the place I fled.
It had been so bad that I chose to fly back to London rather than stay here.
A lot has happened since then, but somehow, I can’t shake this weird feeling. My hackles rise, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
Fucking hell.
The guys are standing in front of me, all their gazes fixed on me with varying degrees of concern.
They watched me.
Yet it’s not their eyes that make my skin crawl right now.
