He didn't flinch. Just touched his cheek. Smiled wider.
I turned. Walked away.
Door to the bedroom slammed behind me.
Eli looked up from his pasta. "Hadley?"
I forced a smile. "It's okay, bud. Grown-up stuff."
But nothing was okay.
Nothing at all.
Chapter 14
Hadley
The hotel lobby smelled like fresh lilies and money I'd never touch. Zariah stood in front of me, arms wrapped tight around my shoulders, her face buried in my neck. We were both crying, quiet, messy tears that soaked into each other's shirts. Eli clung to my leg like a limpet, small hands fisted in my jeans, already rocking side to side because the lobby was too bright, too echoey, too full of strangers staring.
Zariah pulled back just enough to look at me. Her mascara was streaked, eyes red. "Call me every day," she whispered. "Every single day, Had. Promise."
"I promise." My voice cracked. "And you come visit. Soon."
"I will. Work's insane right now but next month, max. I'll fly out. I swear."
She knelt down to Eli's level, brushed his bangs back. "Hey, little man. You be good for your sister, okay? I'll bring you that new train book when I come. The one with the bullet trains in Japan."
Eli nodded fast, eyes wide. "Shinkansen."
Zariah laughed through tears. "Exactly. Shinkansen."
She hugged him quick, gentle, careful not to squeeze too hard, then stood again. Looked at me hard.
"Don't let Syd win," she whispered. "She's poison. You're stronger than her, than all of them."
I nodded. Couldn't speak.
She kissed my cheek. "Love you."
"Love you more."
She walked backward toward the exit, waving until she disappeared around the corner. I stood there until Eli tugged my hand.
"Hadley? Where's Zariah going?"
"Home. But she'll come back."
He looked up at me. "Are we going home too?"
I swallowed. "We're going... somewhere new. For a while."
He didn't answer. Just pressed closer.
Packing had been hell earlier that morning. I folded Eli's shirts into his little suitcase, tiny trains on the fabric, while my mind screamed. Leaving Vegas meant leaving everything that was mine. The club where I knew every shift, every tip, every escape route. The apartment with the wobbly card table and the star projector that helped Eli sleep. The routine that kept us breathing, cleaning houses, dancing nights, coming home to him. That was independence. Crappy, exhausting, but mine.
LA? That was Cal's world. Syd's playground. Big houses, big egos, big everything. I didn't know how to breathe there. Didn't know if Eli could. New school. New noises. New people staring at us like we were the scandal of the week.
I zipped the suitcase. Hand on my stomach. Flat still. But not for long.
