Darkness swallows me whole.
I guess that’s the thing about love stories.
The best ones hurt.
Chapter 45Annalise
Hours later, I’m pacing my hotel room, a throb between my legs, an ache between my ribs. It’s almost midnight. Everyone shot straight to the bar when we got back, except for me and Chase. He tried to pull me aside to talk, to explain, his eyes wrecked and bloodshot, tone desperate.
But I ran.
Told him I was too tired to talk tonight.
I drag my hands through my hair, still wearing my performance clothes. His scent clings to the leather and lace, and I’m not ready to let that go yet.
“I love you so fucking much.”
I can’t unhear those words. Can’t erase the rawness in his voice as the confession spilled out mid-thrust and he clutched me so hard I couldn’t tell if he was breaking me apart or fusing me back together. Either way, I’m changed. Reshaped in every way.
And then he shut down again. Rejected my yearning for confirmation, my need to know if those words were real or just a side effect of lust and adrenaline.
I need Kenna.
She’ll know what to say, how to navigate this pinwheel of broken thoughts.
Only problem is I left my phone in her room before the show.
I blow out a breath.
My eyes swing to the three keycards tossed onto the nightstand, all identified by a single letter drawn in Sharpie.
TheCcard calls to me, glowing and alive.
Courage. Clarification. Comfort.
Catastrophe.
Launching forward, I grab the one with aK.
Kenna’s room is two floors below mine, and the elevator ride is long and torturous. I chew on my thumbnail. Tap my foot. Stare at the glowing numbers until the one I’m looking for lights up and the doors pull apart.
My heart dashes along with my feet as I prepare myself for a night of ugly crying over the cheap Moscato we picked up at a local convenience store this afternoon.
Her door approaches, and I lift the card, hovering it over the sensor until I hear the click.
I rush inside. “Ken—”
Then I freeze. Slap a hand over my mouth.
My eyes bulge out of my head.
There, on the bed, is my best friend riding my brother like a female buckaroo at her last rodeo as she bounces so hard I’m half expecting a judge to pop out and hold up a scorecard.
The headboard smacks the wall.
Tag moans, latching onto her hips.
My brain turns to goo. My eyes melt out of their sockets.
