“Just some Xanax.”
My nose wrinkles. “Okay. Text me when you’re up and we can meet up with Mom and Dad.”
Nodding, Tag steps back and sends me a lazy two-finger salute. “Good night.”
“’Night.”
I watch Tag disappear down the hall, then slip into the hotel room, finding Chase already passed out in the bed.
A smile tugs. He’s sprawled diagonally across the mattress, fully clothed, boots and all, one arm thrown over his face and the other draped across his chest like he passed out mid-thought.
His chest rises in steady rhythm, lips parted slightly, hair tousled from the show. Or maybe from my lust-driven hands. There’s a fading mark along his jaw where I kissed him too hard in the bathroom.
I move quietly, slipping off his boots, unbuttoning his shirt halfway so he can breathe easier. He barely stirs.
After changing quickly, I slide into bed, careful not to jostle him. But as soon as I settle, his arm finds me like muscle memory, pulling me against his hard frame.
He exhales deeply—warm breath fanning across my shoulder—and tucks me in closer.
And just like that, I exhale too.
Letting the day go. Letting him hold me.
Letting it last.
***
My phone pings beside me on the nightstand, jarring me from sleep.
Half conscious and bleary-eyed, I reach over and search for my cell, the room still dark. The sun still down. My eyes are slits, the bright screen barely coming into focus.
But I see it. Read it.
Read it again.
A message sent to the group chat.
Kenna:HELP- room 312
It takes a second for the words to register.
Kenna.
Help.
Help.
I shoot up in bed, wide awake, heart thumping. Blinking repeatedly, I shove at Chase’s arm, dragging him from sleep. “Chase. Chase, wake up.”
“Mmm…” He stirs, rubbing a hand over his face.
Not a moment later, there’s a pounding at the door.
My eyes fly open. Pulse spikes.
“Annalise! Annalise, wake the fuck up!”
It’s Kenna.
