Page 19 of What You left in Me

Back in bed, my phone is glowing on the nightstand. I didn’t take it with me to the lake, and it feels like it knows. One missed call. A text waiting.

Julian:Goodnight, love. Call me if you’re awake. I wanted to hear your voice.

The guilt builds pressure in my chest. I clutch the phone tighter, thumbs flying.

Me:Sorry, baby - missed your call. Was tired. Goodnight. I love you.

I hit send, toss the phone down, and bury myself under the covers. My body feels heavy now, the kind of exhaustion that seeps in after adrenaline fades. The shower’s heat has left me limp, my limbs boneless against the mattress, eyelids tugging down no matter how hard I fight them. I tell myself I’ll think straight in the morning, that everything will make sense after sleep.

But the last thing I see before it drags me under isn’t Julian’s name. It’s Finn’s face in the dim light.

Chapter 7 – Finn – Smoke and Mirrors

I wake up pissed.

Not tired or hungover, which is what I can deal with. Just fucking pissed. Sunlight cuts through the curtains, hot and bright, too pristine for the shit that’s in my head.

Last night.

The lake.

Ariane.

The sound she made when I touched her. That small, broken gasp. I can still feel the tremor in her skin under my hand. The way she didn’t move away. The way she leaned in, like maybe she wanted more.

And then my goddamn phone went off.

Scarlett.

Her name buzzing across the screen, her voice waiting at the other end like a hook I should’ve never taken. I let it save me. That’s what makes me sick this morning. Because I didn’t want saving. I wanted to see how far we could go.

Scarlett’s convenient. Always has been. Long legs, perfect tits, a smile attractive enough to cut glass. The kind of woman who knows exactly what I want and doesn’t bother asking for more. She fits into my life because she doesn’t ask to stay longer than she’s invited for. A glorious warm body when I want one, a ghost when I don’t. Easy.

But last night, she wasn’t easy. She was a fucking interruption.

Her name lit up my phone, and I let her pull me back from something I wasn’t ready to stop.

I roll out of bed, shove my feet against the cold floor, and stalk to the window. The circus in the yard is worse than yesterday. Workers hauling tents, floral trucks backing up the drive, Eleanor in the middle of it all like some queen bee with her clipboard. Everything’s trimmed, shiny, and staged. No trace of my mother left anywhere. Not in the paint. Not in the garden. Not in the fucking air. Just Eleanor’s version of perfect, choking the place like ivy.

I grab my phone off the nightstand. The screen immediately lights up. Missed texts from Scarlett.

Scarlett:You disappeared. Don’t play games with me.

Scarlett:Call me back. Unless you’ve moved on to something better.

I snort, low and menacing. “Yeah. Something like that.”

But I don’t text back. She’s New York noise. She doesn’t belong here or anywhere near what happened last night.

I swipe to Eric’s thread instead and fire off a message with my thumb.

Me:Don’t bother me today. Personal stuff. Back tomorrow. Flight’s already booked.

I stare at it until the little “delivered” checkmark pops up. That’s it. Decision made. I’m out of here tomorrow. Back to the city. Back to my office. Back to Scarlett, or someone like her, or no one at all.

Ariane will go back to being a memory. That’s the plan. That has to be the plan.

I walk to the bathroom and turn the shower on cold, letting the water beat down on me like punishment. My body still remembers last night. The way she looked coming out of that pool… skimpy little bikini plastered to her skin, hairdripping down her shoulders, nipples perked up and straining against a thin barrier, and those hungry eyes locked on mine like she wasn’t scared at all. She should’ve been scared. She wasn’t. And that’s the problem.