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Nick: I distracted myself with your brothers and Aiden and Chase dragging me onto the dance floor like idiots.

Nick: I didn’t even want to go.

Sierra: Still doesn’t explain the girl practically glued to your side.

Sierra: She seemed to be part of your distraction.

There’s a pause. Then…

Nick: You think I’d let some other girl touch me?

Nick: Come on, Ser.

Nick: Don’t do this.

Nick: I’ve missed you all night.

Nick: Are you mad?

Sierra: No.

Nick: Jealous then?

Sierra: Maybe.

Nick: Good. I can work with that.

I roll on my back, cheeks warm in spite of everything.

Sierra: You should’ve written last night.

Nick: I wanted to.

Nick: You have no idea.

Sierra: Next time I’ll send you a photo of me grinding on a stranger.

Nick: Do it and I’m on the jet in the next second.

Nick: And he’s a dead man.

Sierra: So possessive.

Nick: So very.

I toss the blanket aside and reach for the glass of water on my nightstand, careful not to wake Thalia, who’s now sleeping again, a pillow over her head.

My phone buzzes again. Another text from Nick—a photo this time.

My photo. I recognize the club—my brother’s place, where we went last night. I’m mid-movement on the dance floor, laughing at something Thalia said. I look happy.

Three dots appear immediately, then explode into a message.

Nick: Are you fucking kidding me?

Nick: Colt?

I can almost hear the growl in his voice, even through text. I roll my eyes and type.