Page 13

I pull out my phone and open the ride share app, and groan when I see that the little cluster of cars that indicate available drivers are all at least ten miles away. The soonest someone could come to me here is fifteen minutes from now.

Behind me, I can hear Ares and his friends having a similar conversation, and I look back at the janitor. “How far is the inn from here?”

“Less than a mile,” he says, pointing down the road. “Probably ten minutes on foot, if you wanna walk.”

I take a few seconds to debate the merits of walking in an unfamiliar town carrying my bags, versus waiting for a ride. But then I hear Callan suggest just walking, and that makes the decision for me.

“Thanks,” I say to the janitor and start tugging my suitcase in the direction he pointed.

The worst part of the walk is the wind, biting cold and whipping against my cheeks and every exposed bit of skin. Luckily I always wear my comfortable walking shoes to the airport, because the Atlanta airport is a marathon in and of itself. So my feet don’t hurt, at the very least.

I can hear Ares and his friends behind me, talking in quiet voices as their suitcases roll over the ground along with mine. I tell myself that it doesn’t matter if they’re talking about me.

Nothing they say matters. I just have to make it to this inn.

We arrive at basically the same time, the warm light spilling from the glass doors a welcome sight. I rush forward, but Ares does as well, trying to push past me with his bags. He gets tangled with mine, and we’re both stuck in the door for a minute.

“Move,” I snap, trying to get away from him.

“You move,” he fires back. “I was here first.”

“You were not.”

He’s close enough to me that I can smell him, and it hits me that he still smells the same after all these years. That mix of cedar and spice that used to follow him everywhere when we were together. It used to be comforting then, and for a split second I feel that same rush of fondness and warmth, but it’s quickly doused by the reminder of where we are and how bad things are between us.

I manage to wriggle out of the doorway, using my bag to bump Ares out of the way. He curses under his breath, but it gives me a split second head start to make it to the desk first.

The clerk watches us with a mixture of confusion and exhaustion on his face.

“I need a room,” I begin, only for Ares to talk over me with the same request.

The guy looks between us for a second and then shrugs. “We only have one room left,” he says.

Ares and I look at each other, and I can tell from the look in his eyes that he’s spoiling for a fight about it.

Clearly Tate can too, because he steps up before either of us can say anything. “We should share the room,” he says.

I whip my head around to glare at him. “No, we should not.”

“Yeah, we’re not doing that,” Ares replies.

“Look,” Tate says. “It’s not like we have a lot of options. It’s going to be dark soon, and none of us know anything about this town. All the other hotels are full, and we’re all stuck here in the same position. We’re not flying out tonight or even tomorrow, so we may as well take what we can get.”

I grimace, acknowledging that he has a point. But I don’t have to like it. Today went from a great day to a terrible one so fast my head is still spinning about it. Tate is right though. It’s not like I’m going to take my chances trying to find somewhere else to stay now.

“Fine,” I sigh. “But only for tonight. Tomorrow we try to figure out how to get out of here and go our separate ways.”

“Whatever,” Ares mutters. “It’s a room. We’ll just take it.”

Tate looks over at Callan, who has been quiet since we got here. When I glance at him as well, I find him looking right back at me. There’s a deep intensity in his eyes, and it’s unnerving. He’s massive, towering over me. He’s taller than Tate, but not Ares, even though his build makes him look bigger than them both. His arms are folded, making his muscles stand out even more. But it’s his gaze that’s the most striking. It’s like he’s seeing right through me, looking at things that shouldn’t be obvious to the naked eye.

He’s super attractive, that much I can admit. Dark hair and light eyes, a small scar through one eyebrow. I can see a glint of silver under the hair that flops into his face, and I wonder if it’s a piercing. He has several in his ears, so it would track. He looks good in head to toe black, intimidating, but alluring in a way I can’t put my finger on. Whenever I glance at him, he’s watching me, and I have to wonder what it is he’s looking for. Something about all that intensity makes my stomach flip, and I have no idea if it’s a good thing or not.

Probably not.

Callan doesn’t look thrilled about any of this, but he finally nods, agreeing to the plan. “Whatever gets us into a room sooner,” he says, deep voice a quiet rumble.

“Then we’re agreed,” Tate says. “We’ll take the room.”