Page 56 of Afterburn
“Then we won’t.” I tug her a little closer, her shoulder brushing mine as we start walking toward the side entrance. “But I’m not letting you carry that alone, Phoenix. You don’t have to.”
Her grip on my hand tightens, and though she says nothing, the way she exhales—like she has been holding her breath since that sidewalk—is all the answer I need.
I glance sideways at her with a crooked grin. “Besides, next time Preston shows his face, I’m fully prepared to let Knox throw the first punch.”
She actually laughs at that—low and soft—but it’s real. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Good,” I say and lead her toward the elevators. “Because I wasn’t kidding.”
Knox may be one of her best friends, and he knows the history, but I am going to be the one to erase that dick bag from her thoughts.
We make our way to her hotel room, and the door shuts behind us with a soft click, but the tension still hangs thick in the air around Amelia. She said little on the walk back—just theoccasional nod or hum—but I could feel it, that heavy, unsettled energy radiating off her like static. She held it together out there, the way she always does, but now? In here, behind closed doors? She doesn’t have to.
I toss my wallet and hotel key onto the table and glance over at her. She is standing by the window, arms crossed, staring out at the Miami skyline like it has the answers she needs. Her reflection in the glass appears tired—more than she’ll ever admit.
I don’t say anything. Instead, I head for the bathroom, flipping on the light and turning on the faucet. The deep tub starts filling, and steam curls into the air as the warm water cascades down. I find one of those little hotel bath salts packets—probably overpriced, probably worth it—and tear it open, letting it swirl into the water, the soft scent of lavender and something citrusy rising.
The sound of the water must’ve caught her attention because a minute later, she is leaning against the doorway, watching me with those guarded eyes.
“Ash…” Her voice is softer now, the edges worn down. “You didn’t have to?—”
“I know,” I cut in, turning off the faucet as the tub fills to the brim. I stand and wipe my damp hands on a towel before meeting her gaze. “But you don’t need to spend all night stuck in your head, replaying that crap.”
She hesitates, her jaw tightening like she wants to argue—but then it eases. “You’re really something, you know that?”
“Yeah, I’ve heard that before,” I tease, the corner of my mouth lifting.
She actually smiles—small but real.
“C’mon,” I murmur, walking toward her. I slip my fingers beneath hers and guide her into the bathroom. “Just… let it go for tonight.”
Her eyes flick to the tub, then back to me. “You’re not bad at this whole ‘emotional support’ thing.”
I shrug. “I have my moments.”
She doesn’t argue. Instead, she toes off her boots, peels away the layers she was carrying—literal and otherwise—and eases into the bath, a soft sigh escaping her lips as the water surrounds her. Her head falls back against the edge, and her eyes flutter shut.
I sit on the edge of the tub and reach over to tuck a damp strand of hair behind her ear. “Preston? The what-ifs? The could’ve-beens?” I meet her gaze when she opens her eyes again. “Leave all that in the damn water.”
She doesn’t speak for a second, like she is weighing the truth of it. But then she whispers, “Trying.”
“That’s all I’m asking.”
And for the first time tonight, the tension in her shoulders finally eases, her hand finding mine under the rising steam.
Isink deeper into the warm water and let it pull the weight from my limbs, the soft scent of lavender thick in the air, grounding me. The tension I was gripping so tightly in my shoulders loosens, and I sink beneath the surface as the water laps against my collarbone. The steady hum of the hotel outside fades until it’s just me, the water, and the low thrum of my heartbeat finally slowing down.
But even in the quiet, there is a hollow space—an ache I can’t shake.
Ash sits on the edge of the tub, close enough that his knee brushes my arm every so often. His hand lazily trails through the water, his fingertips grazing the surface like he is giving me space but is still tethered to me. Always tethered.
I watch him for a beat—his jaw set, the small crease between his brows like he is still half ready to hunt Preston down and finish what Knox didn’t start.
“Hey,” I murmur, my voice softer now, like the heat burned out the sharp edges.
He glances down at me, that worry still lingering in his eyes. “You good?”
I hesitate. Am I? I don’t really know. But I know one thing—I don’t want distance between us. Not now.
