She sips it. Starts peeling the label off like it would keep her hands from shaking. Her eyes scan the room, lips caught between her teeth. Then she turns to me.
“Do you have my phone?” she asks.
I pull it from the inside of my cut and silently hand it to her.
“Thank you,” she says, and her voice — God, the tremble in it hits me like a bullet straight through the chest.
“No problem,” I manage, even though everything in me is screaming.
She turns away and types something quick. I can see her screen. It’s just three words: ‘I love you.’
She sends it to her sister, locks the phone, and hands it back. I tuck it away with hands that don’t feel steady anymore.
Before she looks away, her eyes lock on mine — just a fraction of a second — and that’s when I break.
Fuck.
I can’t do this. Not tonight. Not like this. I need more of her.
What would my world look like without her? I’m not ready to find out, and I’m afraid I’ll never be.
Ineedanother night.
Before I even realize it, I pull her out of her chair and into my lap. She lets me, and leans into me, soft and trusting. She shouldn’t fucking trust me.
I rest my chin on her shoulder, breathe her in, and feel the chaos inside me begin to settle.
“Let’s go upstairs,” I whisper. “Have our own party. This one’s dead.”
She laughs softly, a spark in her voice.
“Take me to your room, Dominic.”
Just like that, my soul finds peace again.
We have one more night, and I know it deep inside of me — if I take her back home with me tomorrow, she might survive me forever.
On the way to the stairs, I glance over my shoulder. Lock eyes with Bones. He looks like he’s on the verge of putting a bulletin my skull. Angry, staring in almost horrified disbelief. But he doesn’t stop me. He’s giving me tonight.
Tomorrow? Tomorrow will be war.
Ever since I dragged Adora back into my world, I’ve only had that one nightmare. The one at the motel.
It used to be monthly, like clockwork. Sometimes more if I couldn’t sleep at home, where I had space, big windows, air.
But not with her.
Even in that suffocating shoebox of a motel room, she kept the darkness out, just by being close. By letting me hold her when we slept. Normally, I wouldn’t have been able to sleep in that room at all.
With her, there were no nightmares. No claws at my throat. No cold sweats.
Until now. Until I step out of the bathroom and into a nightmare worse than all the rest.
“Bowie.”
It’s just a whisper. Barely a breath. But I hear it, and it feels like an earthquake.
That name from her lips. In my bed.In my fucking bed.
