The first thing I register when I wake up is the warmth, the lingering heat of Carter’s body still clinging to the sheets, the faint scent of him wrapped around me like a second skin. The second thing is the sound of something happening downstairs, the clatter of pans and the unmistakable low noise of Carter and Tate talking.

I blink, my mind still foggy, my body still aching, sore in a way that makes these last few days feel all the more real, all the more impossible, like I somehow stepped into a reality I never could’ve imagined, and I’m still trying to convince myself that it actually happened. Who am I kidding, holy fuck, it happened.

I pull myself up, my muscles protesting, a dull ache settling deep in my bones as I rub the sleep from my eyes.

I glance toward the corner of the room, my eyes landing on my bag—still half-packed. Still exactly where I dropped it after the first night, before I got swallowed whole by everything that is Carter and Tate.

I never even went back to that stupid Airbnb. Didn’t touch half the clothes I brought, didn’t need anything except… them.

That scares me a little. I didn’t think I’d end up here, this deep, this tangled up in two people who shouldn’t make sense, who shouldn’t be so good at pulling me apart in completely different ways. But they did.

Now, the version of myself that existed before I walked into Carter’s arms, before I heard Tate’s voice in the dark, before they touched me like I was the only thing keeping them breathing? She doesn’t exist anymore, and I don’t want to go back to pretending she does.

But I have to leave today. I have to go back to my life, my town, my apartment. Back to Cassie, she’d never forgive me. I don’t want to. God, I don’t fucking want to.

I pull on my jeans, a fresh hoodie, sliding my feet into my shoes, taking a final glance around Carter’s room, then I sling my bag over my shoulder, square my shoulders, and head downstairs.

The moment I step into the kitchen, I know something is off. Not in a bad way, which is already suspicious enough but in a way that makes my steps slow, my eyes narrow, my stomach twist with something both warm and wary.