Something deep and instinctive reacting to the way he says it.
The certainty.
The finality.
The decision.
“Now come on,” he adds, tightening his grip on my hand. “We’ve got an appointment to keep.”
And just like that—I know.
Whatever happens next?
It’s not small.
It’s not simple.
And it’s definitely not safe.
But neither is loving him.
And that never stopped me before.
Chapter 22-Benji
Vegas is loud.
Not just the noise—the engines, the music, the shouting—but the everything of it.
The way the lights scream at you from every direction like they’ve got something to prove.
Neon bleeding into neon, flashing reds and electric blues, gold chasing white in patterns that don’t make a damn bit of sense.
It’s flashy.
Vulgar.
Over the top in a way that feels almost aggressive.
Like the whole damn city is trying to seduce you.
Or swallow you whole.
Crowds move in waves along the sidewalks—tourists in cheap glitter dresses and wrinkled button-downs, drunk men laughing too loud, women in heels that look like they’re about to break an ankle, performers in costumes that don’t leave much to the imagination.
Everything is too bright.
Too fast.
Too noisy.
And I don’t give a single fuck about any of it.
Because all I see—all I feel—is her.
My hand tightens around Esme’s as we move through the crowd, my body angling just enough to shield her from the worst of it without making a show of it.
Old habits.
