Phone call from America.
The words crash through the silence like a siren. An electric jolt surges through me, as if jumper cables were clamped to my brain. I spring off the bed, heart hammering, and somehow manage to land on my feet.
Phone call from America.
It repeats again, robotic and eerie.
“Robbie, ignore call,” Noah instructs the virtual voice.
He rises onto his elbows, looking all sorts of cute; hair mussed, lips swollen, and completely unfazed.
But it’s like a fucking bomb just went off inside my head and blew up my brain. My heart slams against my ribs like it’s trying to escape. Sweat beads across my forehead. My hands won’t stop trembling.
What the hell am I doing here?
What the hell am I doing withhim?
“Who thefuckis America?!” I shout, louder than I mean to—like he owes me something, which he doesn’t. But god, I need him to answer me.
“Erica,” he says, so calm it only fuels the wildfire already ripping through me. “My sister.”
His voice barely registers.
I rake my fingers down my face, trying to pull myself back into my skin, trying to wrestle my rage into something quieter, more manageable.
But it’s too late.
I’m coming apart.
Jesus. I need to get home. I need to call Elijah. I need?—
“You need to relax,” Noah says, slicing through the panic ripping through my skull.
“I need to leave!”I shout, barely holding it together. “This never happened. Do you understand me?” I snarl, hands shaking.
“This. Never. Happened.”
My voice fractures on the last word because I’m choking on it.
I stomp across the room, leaving him behind, silent, stunned, drowning in the wake of everything we just did.
When I reach the door, I pause, gasping for air. One breath. Another. And another.
Don’t you dare pass out in this apartment, I tell myself.
I spin around and face him.
He’s standing in the middle of the room, shirtless and shaken, those big beautiful eyes locked on me as if I might disappear.
Which is definitely my plan.
I exhale slowly, the pressure in my chest unbearable. I can’t leave without an answer though.
“What did he do to you, Noah?”
“Who?” he asks, tension creeping into his wide, startled eyes.
“Gabriel!” I snap. “I saw the roses, damn it! Did he hurt you? Did he fuckinghurtyou?”
