Silence. Heavy.
Gabriel shifts beside me, stiff and stunned, his mouth half open—but no sound comes out.
I can’t breathe. Not because of what she said. But because part of me still remembers the way the door clicked shut behind him. The hush. His cologne. Her eyes on mine—focused. Ready. Waiting.
My right arm twitches at my side. Fingers flex. Contract. Spasm. Panic rockets through my system, zapping every nerve like I’ve been struck by lightning. I shake out my arm—once, twice—but it’s no use. It’s numb. I’m numb. My mouth opens to speak, but nothing comes out but drool. Whispers of air squeeze through my lips in a feeble attempt to say something…anything.
Nothing.
“Alex,” I manage to wheeze, the name rasping off my tongue like it weighs a thousand pounds.
I lock eyes with Gabriel—pleading, shaking,silent. I need him to understand. I’m trying to warn him. And reach him. Beg him to find Alex. To get the fuck out of here. To still look at me just the same. To not trust her. To not hurt her—my sister.
Please don’t hurt America.
I part my lips one last time, searching for breath—just one more shot at words—but it doesn’t come.
Nothing comes.
The world tilts, and I fall?—
Hard.
Everything goes black before I even hit the floor.
25
ALEX
Elijah slips out of me,tossing a towel over my jizz.
“That was… that was… was?—”
“Amazing,” he finishes, and I grin lazily up at him. I am so in love with this guy. Everything in me glows—soft, stupid, hopeless. Like my whole body is humming his name.
His fingers drag lazily across the tattoos on my back, slow and absentmindedly. “I want this forever, Alex.” He breathes against my neck. “Can you give me forever?”
It takes too much effort to form actual words, so I hum instead, a rush of love and joy surging up through me so fast it steals whatever answer I was going to give.
“Yeah?” he asks, smiling into my skin.
“I love you,” I mumble into my pillow.
Buzz.
I peel one eye open at the sound of his phone and glance at the clock—2:55 a.m.
Buzz, buzz.
Elijah’s phone rattles again on the bedside table, vibrating like a jackhammer. Groaning, he rolls over and grabs it.
“I don’t recognize the caller,” he mutters, already half asleep, and tosses it back down like it offended him. “Probably a wrong number.”
I scoot in closer, throwing a leg over his thigh, craving warmth.
Buzz, buzz, buzz.
“Damn it!” he huffs out, sitting up and flicking on the bedside lamp.
