“Midnight.”
No smile, no nod. Just a final piercing look before he pivots away and heads downstairs, collecting his shoes and Toaster’s leash.
Meanwhile, I collect what’s left of myself.
My composure. The pieces of my disjointed mind.
The fragments of my shame.
***
An hour later, I crawl into bed.
Not the stiff, lumpy bed in Tag’s guest room—my bed.
It’s cool and familiar, the silken gray sheets welcoming me home. Alex sprawls out on the right side of the mattress, his designated side. Moonglow highlights his bronzed skin and coal-black hair. He stirs beside me, one knee lifting beneath the covers.
And then he reaches.
An arm loops around my waist, tucking me to his chest. “Knew you’d come back.”
My eyes water as I nestle closer. “You never returned my texts.”
“Didn’t need to,” he mumbles, voice rough with sleep. “You know where you belong.”
Alex presses a kiss to the top of my head.
Soon his grip slackens, his breathing shallows, and he drifts back to sleep.
The loneliness dissipates, but I can’t tell what replaces it. Something still feels hollow. There’s an empty cavity in my chest aching to be filled. Maybe I expected more. A celebration, an emotional reunion. Confetti and violins. But all I hear are the swift beats of my heart and the whir of the ceiling fan from above.
I close my eyes.
This is where I’m supposed to be.
That sudden pull toward Chase was just a test. A crack in the glass, not proof it should shatter. Love isn’t about butterflies or stolen glances. It’s about staying when things get heavy.
It’s about loyalty.
Chase is a distraction, a temptation that tricks you into thinking it’s salvation. But I don’t need saving. I need to be strong, to prove to myself that I don’t give up when it’s hard.
I’m not settling.
I’m embracing what is meant for me.
Chapter 17Annalise
“I’m not sure if this is the best or worst idea you’ve ever had.” Kenna takes a final drag from her vape pen, then stuffs it in her purse. “Kind of like when you cut your own bangs. Or when you signed us up for that underground poker tournament because, and I quote, ‘How hard can it be?’”
I cringe, fluffing the skirt of my pleated baby-blue dress. “Both fall under the worst category.”
“The lines are blurry. That’s my point.” She yanks open the door to the karaoke bar and hauls me inside. “Your track record is impressive.”
“You said ‘concerning’ wrong.”
“Again, blurry.”
Alex saunters up behind us, clamping a firm hand around the nape of my neck. He squeezes. “How long are we staying?” His voice rumbles with irritation. “If this dude is anything like your brother, I’ll either be here until closing because I’m too drunk to stand, or I give it five minutes.”
