His deep voice reverberates through me. I’m practically levitating, lifting my hips to meet his thrusts as we both grip each other a little tighter, losing ourselves in this insane, fucked up moment.

I’m too distracted by biting back my own screams to feel him come. But when my vision starts to clear and my heart slows down to a normal pace, there is only silence and our desperate breathing.

When he finally rests his weight on me, I run my fingers along the beads of sweat gathering on his back. Clarity slowly returns, but I shove it away, just trying to enjoy the sweet silence after such a passionate explosion. I know it’s returning for him too. He’s avoiding my gaze and letting his lips graze my neck and shoulders.

The reality of what looms outside those doors can’t stay locked out for long, but at least we’re safe in here.

There is no light coming through the window curtains when I finally open my eyes. Savannah is breathing quietly next to me, turned away and curled up in a way that looks like she’s defending herself. I want to uncurl her body, pull her into my arms, and ignore everything else.

But there are footsteps down the hallway. And my throat burns like I swallowed nails today. The only thing I want more than Savannah’s body against mine is water and only because I need it to survive.

I roll away, leaving the warmth of the bed and pull on a pair of boxers that were left on the floor. Taking one last glance at the girl in my bed, I replay the events of last night. The feel of her full hips in my hands, the scent of her shampoo, the way she shuddered when I trailed kisses across her stomach.

I need to walk away before I say, ‘fuck the water,’ and climb back in between her legs.

The house is silent. Too silent.

I can’t help it, but when I pass her room for the bathroom, I pause in front of Hazel’s closed bedroom door. It feels like she’s still in there, sleeping and peaceful. I did the same thing when Theo died. We were roommates when Rafe found him on the floor. After that day, I never passed his bedroom without seeing him in there.

It never goes away.

The sound of glass being set on the counter draws my attention to the kitchen.

Ryder is standing in the dimly lit great room, looking like he hadn’t slept a wink. Seeing this aged version of him still throws me. He was always so vibrant. He was the kid who took almost nothing seriously, did his best to get on everyone's nerves, and caused trouble wherever and whenever he could.

Back then, I despised him.