Page 48 of Room Twenty-Three: Tangled & Teased

You’ll get over it.

Hopefully, one day I will.

There’s a deathly silence on the plane as it maneuvers from its position in front of the private lounge and traverses down the runway, ready to fly.

I don’t look at them. I can’t.

I purposefully took the seat at the front of the plane, so I could spend my time forgetting about them. If I look, I know the tears coating my eyes will flow out and never stop.

The nose of the airplane lifts, and we’re in the air. All I can do is stare out of the window.

I’m ready to go home and not see them again.

Chapter 18

Erin

“GoodbyeErin,”Jovesays,taking me in his arms and hugging me.

“Thanks for everything,” I respond weakly and turn to Atty, who looks devastated.

I stride to him and wrap my arms around his waist, pressing my face against his chest. I’m going to miss his smell. “I’ll miss you.”

“The traffic is going to get heavy, so we need to be quick,” my father’s bodyguard, Marco, says as he takes my suitcase from Jove and places it in the car’s trunk.

“I need a hug,” Beau says, taking hold of me, before he whispers. “We’ll always be looking out for you.”

The chuckle that leaves my lips doesn’t agree.

“I wish...” Say it Erin. “I wish you all a good life.”

I feel the strength of Beau’s heartbeats against my cheek as he holds me tight.

“Erin...” he whispers, but I pull away from his hold before he fills me with good wishes or worse, with a hope that he cannot fulfill. “Remember everything.”

Marco places his hand on my back and says, “We need to go.”

I turn one last time as he leads me away, seeing Jove, Atty and Beau staring at me the entire time I get into the car.

My heart is breaking as I turn away for a moment and back to the three men.

Ask me to be yours.

But they don’t.

Five minutes later, I catch Marco staring at me through the rear-view mirror. He gives me a small smile before asking, “How was your time in America?”

“Fine,” I mumble, then turn to look out of the car, watching the landscape change as we leave the grounds of the airport.

“Where were you?”

My eyes lock on his.

The threat is over, both to me and the girls in New Orleans. I know there’s no longer a need to hide the location. “New Orleans.”

“New Orleans,” he mutters, as he hits the gas and roars down the road.

I go back to staring out of the window, but now it’s cars and trucks as we speed home.

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