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"He grabbed my ass and my tit," I'd retorted, swaying slightly on my feet, the adrenaline of the moment mixing dangerously with the cocktail of substances in my system.

The bouncer had sighed, clearly used to dealing with New Year's Eve drama. "Both of you, out. Now."

"But she?—"

"I don't care who started it. Out."

I'd been escorted to the door, the bouncer's hand firm but not unkind on my elbow. "You okay to get home?" he'd asked as we'd reached the street, genuine concern in his voice.

"Fine," I'd mumbled, though the world had been spinning alarmingly around me, the cold night air doing nothing to clear my head.

"Maybe call a friend," he'd suggested before turning back to the club, leaving me alone on the sidewalk, the sounds of celebration continuing unabated behind the closed doors.

I'd fumbled for my phone, squinting at the screen that seemed to blur and double before my eyes. I needed to get home, but where was home? The address escaped me, my mind a jumble of disconnected thoughts and sensations.

I'd managed to flag down a passing taxi, and slide into the back seat.

"Address?" the driver had asked, eyeing me warily in the rearview mirror.

I'd stared at him blankly, panic rising as I'd realized I couldn't remember where I lived. The drugs, the alcohol, the adrenaline crash—all of it had combined to wipe my mind clean of such basic information.

"I... I don't know," I'd admitted, my voice small and frightened in a way I hadn't heard since I was a child.

The driver had sighed heavily. "Look, lady, I can't just drive around all night. You need to give me an address."

Desperation had clawed at me, tears threatening to spill over. Who could I call? Alex? No, we'd barely spoken in weeks. Louise? She'd made it clear she was done with my shit after I'd cut Kelly out. James? The thought had been laughable—he'd be asleep, and even if he wasn't, I couldn't bear the thought of him seeing me like this.

Con.

The name had surfaced from the depths of my mind, unbidden but undeniable. Con would help. Con always helped, even when I didn't deserve it.

With shaking fingers, I'd scrolled through my contacts, finding his name and hitting call before I could second-guess myself.

He'd answered on the third ring, his voice thick with sleep. "Geri? It's 1 in the morning."

"Con," I'd choked out, tears finally spilling over. "I need help. I don't know where I am. I don't know where I live. I'm in a taxi and I can't remember my address."

There had been a pause, and I'd held my breath, terrified he'd hang up, that he'd finally had enough of my chaos.

"Put the driver on," he'd said instead, his voice calm and steady.

I'd handed my phone to the driver, who'd had a brief conversation with Con before handing it back to me.

"He's taking you to my place," Con had said. "I'll be waiting outside. Just stay in the car until you get here, okay?"

"Okay," I'd whispered, relief washing over me in a wave so powerful it had left me dizzy.

"And, Geri? It's going to be okay."

I'd wanted to believe him, but the darkness had been closing in, my consciousness slipping away despite my best efforts to stay awake. The last thing I'd remembered was the gentle sway of the car as it had turned a corner, and then nothing.

Consciousness had returned slowly,painfully, like swimming up from the bottom of a murky lake. My head had felt like it was being split open with an axe, my mouth dry as sandpaper, my stomach rolling with nausea. I'd become aware of softnessbeneath me—a bed, not my own—and the gentle sound of breathing nearby.

I'd forced my eyes open, wincing at the light streaming through unfamiliar curtains. The room had come into focus gradually—minimalist decor, neutral colours, a bookshelf filled with titles I couldn't make out from the bed. And there, in an armchair pulled up beside the bed, Con.

He'd been asleep, his head tilted at an uncomfortable angle, dark circles under his eyes suggesting he'd been there for hours. He'd looked thinner than I remembered, his cheekbones more pronounced, but still undeniably Con—the man I'd run from, the man I'd called in my darkest hour.

I'd shifted slightly, trying to sit up, and realized with a jolt of panic that I was naked beneath the sheets. My clothes were nowhere to be seen, and my memory of the previous night ended abruptly at the Taxi ride.