Page 49 of Bend

I grin. “Alright, maybe a little.”

Her expression softens then, just slightly. “He will come around.”

There’s something in the way she says it that makes me believe she’s not just talking about tonight.

I nod once. “All right.”

She lifts her hand in a little wave. “Text me when you get home. My turn to make sure you get home in one piece,”

That catches me off guard in the best way.

“Yes, ma’am.”

She laughs, shakes her head, then steps back as I open the door.

“Night, Wolfe.”

“Night, Echo.”

I step out into the humid dark, and a second later I hear the soft click of the lock behind me.

The motel walkway buzzes under that weird pink light, the air thick and damp against my skin as I head down the stairs and back toward my bike. Everything feels too still now. Like the whole night’s holding its breath with me.

I swing a leg over, sit there for a second, and stare out at the empty lot.

It’s not the sex stuck in my head. It’s the way Thorne kissed me like he’d been holding it back for a long goddamn time.

It’s the look on his face after, all bright panic and too much feeling and the fact that for a few minutes in that room, he stopped pretending.

I start the engine, the growl of it cutting through the quiet.

Because the truth is, I’m done with things that only live halfway.

And whether Thorne’s ready to admit it or not, I know he is too.

Chapter Eight

Echo

The motel mirror is brutally honest this morning.

And not even in a poetic, life-affirming, or some girl, get yourself together montage kind of way. More like a cheap rectangle bolted crooked to a wall that’s seen too many bad choices and at this point, refuses to lie for anybody.

Which, in my opinion, is really fucking rude.

I stand in front of it in black denim shorts and a fitted dark tank, mascara wand in one hand, and stare at the evidence of my life choices like they’ve personally offended me.

My hair is half-dried and currently doing whatever the hell it wants. My lips are still a little swollen and there’s a faint bite mark near my collarbone that I absolutely do not need to think about right now and yet, my mouth curves anyway.

Because yeah. Last night was intense.

It was definitely the most reckless thing I’ve done since getting to Tampa, which is truly saying something considering I rode to a stranger’s beach house and informed two men they had a secret sister.

I set the mascara down and lean closer to the mirror.

“Well,” I tell my reflection, “you’ve officially outdone yourself.”

My reflection looks smug, as she should.